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formula-nyoom · 8 months ago

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Rookie Reflections | LS2

Platonic! Logan Sargent x Rookie!Reader

Summary: Being the only new addition to the grid, it may seem intimidating to try and introduce yourself to the other drivers. Logan remembers exactly what it's like to be the new rookie and doesn't want a repeat of what happened to him to happen to anyone else.

A/N: Pronouns weren’t specified so I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible. I still haven’t decided if I want to write in 2nd or 3rd person, it really depends on the fic/request. Previous reader inserts I have written have been done in 2nd person so I defaulted to that with this fic, but do let me know which one you prefer. Logan, my favorite driver, I’m glad my first request is for him. Also I have no hate towards Daniel, it just made a lot more sense to me for the reader to take his seat.

Silly season didn’t come with a lot of shake ups like people expected it to. The only team to switch up their driver line up for the upcoming season was RB, with Daniel being replaced by the newest Formula 2 champion after not delivering the results Red Bull had wanted from him.

You had met Yuki for the first time during the car launch before pre-season testing, but with all the cameras, interviews, and excitement surrounding the new car launch, you were unable to find the time to properly get to know each other. You had hoped to get a chance to maybe sit down with Yuki and get to know your new teammate, but now in Bahrain with all the drivers in one place it seemed that all of them had already split off into their pre-established friend groups that had been built up over years of racing alongside each other, Yuki included.

That’s the thing with being the only new driver for the season: All the other drivers already knew each other well enough that you felt too intimidated to approach any of them. Going to Formula 2 where you knew almost all the drivers to Formula 1 where you knew no one, it was like being the new kid at school. And that seemed even more evident during the pre-season photoshoot.

Yuki still had some last bits of data to go over with his engineer so you arrived at the photoshoot without your teammate. While you did arrive early, most of the drivers were already there, either talking with each other or members of their team. A few gave you curious glances, maybe an awkward smile or two, but none felt the need to approach. Not wanting to risk bothering anyone, you decided to find a spot secluded from the various groups of people while you waited for either Yuki to show up or for the photoshoot to start. Maybe when the photographer started to position people for the photos, you could possibly strike up a conversation with whoever was placed near you. But for now, you felt content standing off to the side where no one would really approach you. Or so you thought.

Logan had forgotten something in the Williams garage, making him arrive at the photoshoot after Alex. And while he could have walked over to his teammate, who was currently chatting with George, he noticed you standing off to the side. You were away from everyone to where you wouldn’t get in the way as you scrolled through your phone.

Logan knows that move. He did it many times during his rookie season because of how out of place he felt. But he also wasn’t the only rookie during his season, unlike you who was the only new person to the grid. He can probably guess how nervous or out of place you may seem. Logan knows that feeling. He hates that feeling and wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to approach you. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to since Alex was busy talking to George, and Oscar was busy talking to Lando. Either way, he thought it was a good idea to introduce himself.

“Hey,” Logan said, getting your attention. “You’re the new RB driver, right?”

Logan already knew the answer to that question, but he thought that was a better question to ask than pointing out the fact that you’re the new rookie.

“Yea, I am.” You said. Guess you were wrong about people not approaching you as you looked at the man standing before you.

“I’m Logan.” He said, holding out his hand for you to shake. You already knew his name before he introduced himself. Hell, you knew all drivers names on the grid but that was another intimidating reason why you hadn’t tried to approach anyone.

“I’m (Y/N).” You said, shaking Logan’s hand.

“So, are you excited for the upcoming season?” Logan asked.

“Yea. The car seems to be a good contender with the testing we’ve done so far. Hopefully I’ll be able to score some points by the end of the season.”

“What makes you think you won’t get points at the beginning?” Logan asked.

“Well I am the rookie this season. I’m still getting used to the car, it’s a huge difference from the F2 car I was driving last year. Plus everyone else has been racing longer than I have. It's gonna take me a while to catch up.” You explained.

“Oh come on, don’t doubt yourself this early. Trust me, it doesn’t help.” Logan said. You shrugged.

“I guess you’re right. I mean, I’m gonna try my best no matter what, but the highest I can see myself getting for the first race is P15.” You told him.

“That’s a good start. “ Logan said. He smiled and you couldn’t help but smile as well. The two of you ended up talking about what you both did over the winter break and your expectations for the season until the photographer called for the photoshoot to start. You hadn’t even realized Yuki had arrived until the photographer positioned you two next to each other.

“I saw you and Logan talking earlier. I hope it was a good conversation.” He whispered as you waited for the photographer to take a picture.

“He was just introducing himself. We talked about our expectations for the season.” You told him. Yuki smiled a bit.

“Logan’s always been nice. I’m glad you’re getting to know some of the other drivers.”

~~~

“Come on Yuki, pick up!” You mumbled as the call went to voicemail again. After pre-season testing had wrapped up, you had finally managed to get to know Yuki by going out to get dinner together with the rest of the team. He had promised that the two of you would walk together through the paddock on the first day of the season, but after arriving at the entrance you saw no sign of your teammate. And the fact that he wasn’t answering his phone didn’t help either. But looking around towards all the cars pulling in towards the entrance, you did however see Logan arriving.

“Logan!” You quickly walked over to him as he got closer to the entrance.

“Hey. What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with your team?” He asked, noticing the lack of anyone from RB with you.

“Well me and Yuki were supposed to walk in together, but I can’t find him anywhere and he’s not answering my calls.” You said. You looked past the turnstiles at the entrance to the paddock. “I don’t really want to walk in by myself.”

“Do you want me to walk in with you?” Logan asked. You looked back at him.

“If it’s not too much to ask.” You said. Logan just shook his head and smiled.

“It’s no bother.” He said. He gently ushered you towards the entrance and the two of you walked through. It was an understatement to say that you were nervous to greet the cheering fans that stood by the barriers with things to sign. But knowing that Logan was right next you signing things as well and taking pictures with fans made you less nervous. You even got to take some pictures with him and fans as well.

“If I wore all these friendship bracelets in the car, I think I would add an extra pound.” You joked as the two of you walked past the various team garages.

“Soon you’re gonna end up having a full storage closet at your house just full of stuff that fans have given you.” Logan said. You smiled at that idea.

“Hopefully I won’t develop carpal tunnel from all the stuff I’m gonna have to sign over the year.” Good thing being a Formula 1 driver consists more of driving cars than signing things.”

“You say that now, but just wait until the RB merchandise team sits you down in a room filled with driver cards you have to sign. Your wrist is going to be so sore afterwards.” Logan said. You let out a chuckle.

“(Y/N)!” You turned to see Yuki, coming from the RB hospitality, running over to the two of you. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry. They put me in the press conference at the last minute. I had to come early.” Yuki explained.

“It’s ok Yuki. Logan walked in with me.” You said. You turned back to Logan. “Thank you, by the way. I should probably go see my team.”

“Like I said, it was no bother. I’d be happy to walk the paddock with you anytime.” He said. “I’ll see you two on the track.”

He waved goodbye and then headed to the William’s garage as you headed with Yuki back to the RB hospitality to get ready for the upcoming practice sessions.

~~~

“Ok (Y/N). We’ve been knocked out of Q1. You are P17.” Your race engineer said through the radio as the qualifying session ended and you slowed your car down for a cool down lap.

“Not the result I had hoped for, but it’s something I can improve upon. Did Yuki make it to Q2?” You asked, making your way into the pit lane.

“Yes, Yuki did make it into Q2.” Your engineer said.

“That’s good. Hope he can make it into Q3.” You pulled into your designated pitlane and flipped up your visor to let some air into your helmet as the pit crew pulled your car into the garage.

After changing out of your race suit and fireproofs, you put on a pair of headphones and joined the crew in watching Q2. You were happy to see that Logan made it into Q2 as well, and was secretly hoping he would make it into Q3 along with Yuki. Both of them did good laps during Q2 but Yuki unfortunately was only able to place P11. Logan barely managed to get by into Q3, but couldn’t place any higher and ended up in front of your teammate, placing P10 for tomorrow’s race. After congratulating Yuki on his placement, you left the RB garage to go look for Logan to do the same thing. You didn’t have to look far, as the American driver was exiting the William’s garage as you approached.

“Hey, nice driving today!” You said, giving Logan’s shoulder a congratulatory pat.

“Thanks. I’m shocked I was able to make it into Q3. I thought I was going to get knocked out in Q2, I didn’t expect Lance to get his lap time deleted.” Logan said. “Where’d you place?”

“P17. I wasn’t able to gain enough speed on my last lap to get myself to a higher placement.” You said. “But that’s ok. I just need to overtake the 7 cars in front of me to get to P10 and get into the points. How hard can that be?”

You laughed, your last sentence meaning to be a joke. Logan let out a small chuckle, but he was taking what you said seriously.

“I think you can do it. But only do it after I’ve overtaken a couple cars myself. I’d also like to get some points during the race.” He said.

“Deal!”

~~~

It was officially race day and your nerves seemed to be bouncing as fast as the cars that would be on track soon. You had felt confident throughout the week, being on the track and going over data with the team. But with the race starting in a couple hours, the fact that you were about to debut in your first Formula One race was starting to become very real.

“You squeeze that water bottle any tighter, it’s gonna explode.” You were brought out of your spiraling thoughts by Logan as he approached you from the side. Looking down, you did see that the water bottle you were holding was almost ready to burst from the steel grip you had on it.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking about the race today.” You said, loosening your grip on the bottle.

In a similar scenario to pre-season testing, the two of you were waiting to start the drivers parade.

“It’s ok to be nervous about your first race. Every driver is.” He said.

“What if I crash the car?” You asked. Logan shook his head.

“You won’t.”

“What if I can’t overtake any cars and finish last?”

“You won’t finish last.”

“What if-”

“Hey.” Logan placed his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him. “You’re going to be fine. You drove well during testing and practice. You can overtake the cars in front of you. And even if you finish last, so what? It’s your first race. You’re going to make mistakes and that’s ok.” Logan said. His hands on your shoulder and the speech he just gave you seemed to steel your nervous a bit as you took in what he said.

“Just try to have fun. Can you promise me that?” Logan asked. He held up his pinkie and you almost laughed at the childlike implications. But the serious look on Logan’s face stopped you. You linked your pinkie with his and nodded.

“I promise.”

The two of you ended up staying next to each other during the drivers parade, waving to fans as the truck drove by. Interviews were also happening during the parade, and with you being the new rookie, you had to be interviewed.

“So (Y/N), you're about to make your Formula 1 debut in your first Formula 1 race. How are you feeling?” The interviewer asked.

“I’m both very nervous and very excited. I’m starting at the back of the grid, but I’m gonna try to do my best.” You said.

“I know, with being the newest addition to the grid, you may feel like you stand out. Besides your teammate Yuki, have there been any other drivers that you’ve gotten to know during pre-season testing or this weekend?”.

“Logan actually introduced himself to me during pre-season testing and we’ve gotten to know each other a bit.” You told the interviewer. “It feels a bit intimidating being surrounded by these great drivers that I’ve always hoped to have a chance to drive alongside, so I’m really grateful to Logan for being someone on the grid that I can talk to and get to know, besides Yuki of course.”

“Have you guys talked about anything in particular? Any expectations for your first race?”

“Logan actually gave me a really good pep talk before the drivers parade. It really helped calm my nerves down a bit. I’m gonna take Logan’s advice and try to have fun.” You said with a smile. The interviewer thanked you for your time and moved on to interview a different driver as you made your way back over to Logan. After waving to a bunch of fans, the parade concluded and you and the rest of the drivers got off the truck.

“What are you going to do during this race?” Logan asked you before the two of you departed to get ready for the race.

“Have fun!” You said.

“That’s right.” He gave your shoulder a reassuring pat and left for the William’s garage while you headed back to RB, your nerves seemingly having lessened.

Logan’s pep talk seemed to be exactly what you needed. You ended up finishing the race in P11, just out of the points but only two spots behind Yuki.

“(Y/N) that was a fantastic first race! Well done!” Your engineer's voice came through the radio as you waved while driving around the track.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much! That was so much fun! I couldn’t have done it without you or the team!” You said enthusiastically as you pulled into parc ferme. You sat in the car for a couple seconds, taking in the feeling of making it through your first Formula One race. Then, you took the wheel out and stepped out of the car.

Some of the pit crew workers gave you pats on the back or the shoulder, congratulating you on making it through your first race. As your eyes scanned the pit lane, looking for your team, they landed on the familiar America-decorated helmet of Logan.

“Logan!” You called as you jogged over to him. His eyes lit up at your approach and met you halfway.

“Nice one champ! P11 on debut!” He said, raising his hand for a high five before bringing you in for a brief congratulatory hug.

“I was so close to getting into points but I couldn’t catch up. You drove amazingly though! Congrats on P5!” You told him.

“Hey, don’t put yourself down for being “just” out of the points. Next race, you and I are going to be in the top 10.” He said. “Did you have fun?”

“Yea!” You exclaimed. Both your smiles seemed to grow.

“I told you! Come on, let’s go get weighed and you can tell me everything about the race.” Logan slung his arm over your shoulder as he led you over to the weigh stations.

The two of you spent the rest of the night recounting each of your guys' events of the race, every overtake and every mistake either of you made. Eventually exhaustion started to hit both of you and the two of you decided to head back to your hotel rooms.

“Thank you.” You said to Logan as you stood infront of your room after Logan offered to walk you back.

“For what?” He asked.

“For introducing yourself to me during pre-season testing. I honestly didn’t think I would be able to get to know anyone on the grid this season. All the other drivers seem to know each other really well or are just really intimidating.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers for a bit before looking back up at him “But I’m really glad to say that you're the first friend I’ve made on the grid.”

Logan’s smile seemed to lower and you grew concerned. But he noticed this and quickly change his expression to reassurance.

“I know how hard it is to make friends in this sport and I also know how isolating it can be. I didn’t want what happened in my rookie season to happen to you.” He told you. “I’m glad that you’re my friend too.”

You smiled, touched by what he said and happy that he considered you a friend as well. You held up your pinkie towards him.

“Promise that we’ll both be in the points next race?”

He linked your pinkie with his and matched your smile.

“I promise.”

#formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #logan sargent x reader #platonic grid x reader

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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Summer in the 305 || LS2

Pairing: Logan Sergeant x fem!reader Summary: Logan comes home to Miami (305) for the summer break and you surprise him by meeting him at the airport. Warnings: fluff, doggo parents, hints of sexual tension. WC: 1.7k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three

No one noticed you as you sat half asleep in an oversized hoodie on a bench, assuming you were just another weary traveler in Miami International Airport. The arrival lounge had been busy when you arrived hours earlier but it had grown quieter and quieter as the night grew so late it could have been considered morning. Logan was meant to have landed at 11pm and he would have expected you to be at home fast asleep but you had wanted to surprise him.

The surprise came fittingly at 3:05 when the frosted glass doors opened with the next disembarkation of passengers, led by Logan as he desperately tried to get home to you sooner. Your eyes were burning from forcing them to remain open for the extra four hours that his flight was delayed and you rubbed them as you rose from the bench.

Caps and shirts were thrust in his path but he was too polite to decline a fan so he paused to sign his autograph and nearly jumped out of his skin when your fingers wrapped around the handle of his suitcase. The shout to call for security almost passed his lips, thinking he was being robbed, before his sleepy brain recognised you.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” he asked as a grin chased away the exhaustion on his face and he bundled you into his arms.

You kept one hand on his luggage since there was a crowd starting to gather but the other curled around his back and your head tucked into the crook of his neck. “I wanted to surprise you. I missed you.”

Logan pressed his lips to your forehead until you tipped your head back and he captured your lips as cameras flashed. “I missed you too.”

Thankfully it wasn’t always like this and most of the time when he came home to Miami you were left in relative peace. It was a different story when you went with him to the races, those were full-on mobs of Williams fans that demanded almost all his attention. “Go on, babe, finish up signing those so we can go home.”

The pen flew across whatever passed in front of him before he caught you struggling to hide your yawn and made an apology as he handed a boarding pass back with his autograph before waving. “Thanks for the support everyone.”

There was a collective groan from those who had missed out but Logan was focusing on taking back his luggage with one hand and draping the other over your shoulders as you fell into step.

“Looks like the 305 missed you too,” you commented as his hand lifted every now and again to wave at the younger fans until you reached his Range Rover you borrowed for the night. “There’s a treat waiting for you at home.”

His hand found your thigh as he started the engine and sent you a smirk as it drifted higher. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Not that,” you giggled, turning down the music that had played loudly while you drove. Logan enjoyed a quieter atmosphere when he was at the wheel, one where he could hold a conversation. “I wasn’t sure if you had eaten so I picked up some Carbone’s. I will admit I had to name drop, but they wouldn’t make a takeaway order otherwise.”

His warm laugh filled the SUV. “Did they even know who I was?”

“Of course! Everyone knows the hometown hero.” You leaned across the console and kissed his cheek, feeling the short prickles of his blond beard on your lips. “Are you planning on giving me beard burn, Lo?”

“This is all the rage in Europe. You don’t like it?” he asked as he ran his fingers over the three day growth. You weren’t sure if he was playing with you or not before a grin split his face and you sighed with relief. “Don’t worry, honey, I just haven’t had a minute spare to shave it this week.”

By the time 4:00 am arrived you should have been dead on your feet, but having Logan home energised you almost as much as Sooty. The black labrador scarpered all over the polished wooden floor when he saw his daddy walk in the door, his paws struggling to find traction in his excitement.

“There’s my good boy, come to daddy,” Logan cooed as he dropped his suitcase and caught the bounding dog as he jumped up. “Have you been protecting, mommy? Yeah? Of course, you have, you’re such a good boy.”

“He never gives me that kind of welcome home,” you joked as you locked the door and wheeled the suitcase down the hall to the bedroom.

A pair of hands came to rest on your waist as you emptied the entire case into the laundry hamper, knowing he wouldn’t have had the time to do it himself. His lips brushed over your nape before finding their way to your jaw as he turned you in his arms. “But you don’t go missing for weeks at a time.”

Hooking your arms around his neck you nodded in agreement as Sooty padded into the room with his favourite toy, dropping it at Logan’s feet.

“Someone has to be the stay-at-home parent in this relationship,” you chuckled, releasing him so he could pick up the squeaky toy.

“Not tonight, Soot, we’ll play in the morning,” he said, giving you a quick kiss with the promise of more. “Let me put him to bed, leave everything else until morning, sweetheart.”

He disappeared down the hall to the living room where Sooty’s bed was set up, but whenever Logan was away you would let him sneak into bed with you. You always slept better when you could cuddle something warm, but you definitely preferred waking up to Logan’s morning kisses than Sooty’s slobbery ones when he wants to be fed.

“Lay down, buddy,” you heard Logan’s quiet words in the still of the night. “You can take a break from looking after mommy, you did such a good job for me, yes you did.” You heard a smooch followed by a soft whine as Logan turned off the lights, then the pitter patter of paws. “Back to bed, Soot. Good boy.”

You heard the bedroom door close before Logan stepped into the ensuite, leaning against the doorway while you filled the sink with warm water. You returned the smile you found in the mirror and patted the marble vanity top before searching the drawers for his cut throat razor.

“It doesn’t look that bad, does it?” he half joked as he jumped up onto the bench, parting his legs so you could step between them.

“You could have a 70’s porn ‘stache and I would still think you are handsome,” you promised, making him laugh.

He tipped his head back as you soaked a face cloth in the warm water and squeezed the excess out before placing it over his face. “This is my favourite part of coming home.”

“Out of everything we do when you’re home, this is your favourite?”

His laugh made the face cloth fall away but it had probably been there long enough to open his pores so you lathered up the shaving cream next and massaged it over his cheeks and down his neck, feeling the thick cords of muscles beneath your palms.

“Okay, third favourite,” he corrected as his hands shifted from where he leaned back down on them to curl around your waist and rest comfortably on the swell of your ass. “But it’s still up there.”

“You are a strange man, Lo. I don’t think most people enjoy having a blade to their throat,” you murmured as you opened the razor and tilted his head to the side.

“I trust you.”

“Thank you. Now no more talking.”

He didn’t dare make a sound or even swallow as you angled the blade against his cheekbone and started to glide it carefully down to his jaw before rinsing it off in the sink. He kept perfectly still for you but you were hyper aware of his eyes scanning your face for any little changes he might have missed while he was away, re-committing it all to his memory for the next time he left.

You closed the blade up after finishing his throat last and placed it on the side before grabbing the face cloth and wiping away the excess shaving cream. Running a palm over his jawline you nodded at the silky smooth skin and took a kiss as payment before handing him the bottle of aftershave. “All done, handsome.”

By the time you had turned down the bed, and changed into one of his shirts, the light leaking in around the edges of the curtains started to turn pink as dawn approached. Your eyelids were heavy but your heart was light as Logan climbed in his side and wrapped his body around your back, the weight of his arm reassuring on your waist and his leg wedged between yours.

“Come with me,” he murmured sleepily.

You could hardly coordinate a reply as your lips quivered with a suppressed yawn until it finally passed. “Where?”

“Everywhere: Zandvoort, Monza, Singapore, all of them.” You felt his small shrug before his arm tightened around you and he kissed your shoulder. “I hate being away from you.”

Your immediate reply was to admit how much you hated the distance too but that would only make him feel worse if you couldn’t join him. “What about Sooty?”

“Hamilton brings Roscoe to some races, or maybe Mom can look after him…you don’t have to give me an answer now, sweetheart. We have three weeks to think about it.”

“I want to,” you said as you laced your fingers with his and drew his hand up your body so it was tucked into the valley of your breasts where your heart beat steadily in your relaxed state, “but we can talk about more in the morning.”

He nodded and pressed another kiss to your skin, the touch smooth and soothing thanks to the close shave. “Sweet dreams, honey.”

“Hmm, you too,” you said as your muscles relaxed even further and your tongue barely moved. “Love you, Lo.”

His voice followed you into your dreams and you smiled as it took hold in a future you couldn’t wait to see come to life, “I love you too.”

Click here for part two.

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jesssssssssica · 1 year ago

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you like my girlfriend op81 & ls2

“admit it!” oscar says, putting his face right up against his friends, a scarily calm expression worn on his face.

“admit what?” logan replies, face screwing up in genuine confusion at the sudden exclamation from his friend.

“you like my girlfriend!”

oh, now logan understood.

time pauses as he collects his thoughts, oscar’s chest slowly rising waiting for the time to fall and then repeat the steps again.

‘had i really been that obvious?’ he thinks, wondering whether someone had caught his lingering gaze on you, panic taking over his mind and body.

he hadn’t meant to fall in love

he hadn’t meant to feel this way towards you, his best friends girlfriend, one he had been dating since what seems like forever, one that he had introduced into his friend group wanting you to make more friends, one that he loved wholeheartedly and now he had to go and screw things up by falling for the girl.

he thinks of ways to justify it but the only thing he comes up with is “well how’d you expect me not to? that girl is an angel and it’s not my fault that she swept me off my feet, so don’t think for one second i chose to like her more than i should. i thought at first it would just go away, but she’s everywhere and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that every time i close my eyes i think of me and her and not you and her and their best friend logan. trust me i’ve tried to get rid of this feeling but every time i try and run away she always reels me back in. i'm sorry oscar.”.

‘no that’s not good,’ he thinks ‘i’ll only just end up crying my eyes out as i speak and that’ll be no good’

so instead he says, with his eyes screwed tight.

“oh cmon, i mean am i attracted to her? sure. do my days feel better when i’m around her? yeah. does she get me in ways no woman ever has? indubitably. do i fantasise about her? yes, but only in two positions. look, am i the kind of guy who would try and steal someone else’s girlfriend? sure, of course but do i like her? the answer is no, you have nothing to worry about.”

oscar blinks as logan slowly peels his eyes open, staring at his friend.

“oh” oscar utters, his words being the only words he can manage to get out right now, still trying to process the words that logan has just told him, watching his best friend's chest rise up and down quickly, waiting in fear and anticipation of oscar's reaction.

what was oscar meant to say? did logan just expect him to put on his best smile and act as if he hadn’t just heard a confession all about the love he had for his girlfriend, someone that would always speak to logan on a night out? logan was someone that oscar trusted with his life and to know that man was harbouring love, no not love, more like an infatuation, the whole time for his girlfriend left him vulnerable and in a hole.

“oscar?” logan says, voice small and quiet, sounding more like a child than a twenty two year old.

“i’m just thinking.”

and that was true, he was thinking long and hard about where the two of them stood after the confession. if he forgave him and continued to be friends with him then he would always have to watch the two of them, looking for signs of logan still being in love with y/n.

maybe he could just end it all, their friendship he means, but it will leave a mark in his heart because no matter how hard he tries to deny it, logans have always been there and two, it wouldn’t only affect just his and logan's lives, but also y/n’s.

y/n, the only lifeline and rock he had left. his beautiful girlfriend that meant the world to him, the person that could make him smile on even the worst days. as he sits, he thinks about that one time after a bad race in f2, the time when was so angry with the world, ignoring everyone, everyone but her, his angel standing in a crowd of his engineers, each of them patting his back in sympathy, everyone but her. that was the day he realised he had found the person.

the person was the mystery woman his mother would always talk about whenever he was feeling down and upset or having struggles to think of happy thoughts to help him succumb to sleep. the person was the woman that every young little boy wishes they could marry and love, though when they grow up they realise that no such woman exists, well they do but they just end up with some stranger that always takes them for granted and yet the person never seems to realise because they really do love them.

now that he really thinks about it, he can’t help but feel like the dumbest person in the world for not having realised since their very first date together, that this was the woman he was destined to marry, he feels even more stupid that it took a confession of love from his best friend for him to realise.

“i-” oscar starts, “listen logan. i will never be able to forget today and the words that you’ve told me and our friendship probably won’t go back to how it was ten minutes ago but thank you, i know that if i were in your situation then maybe i would never have confessed and yet you did, i mean of course i had my suspicions so i would’ve been wary either way but shit sorry, i’m rambling but you know what i mean.”

“you’re lucky to have her, you know.” logan sighs, tears threatening to spill.

the thought of what could’ve happened if he had met you first always crosses his mind being the cause of many sleepless nights but it was worth it all. in this perfect world, oscar was the one that sent him over to talk to the pretty girl across the club, not the other way around. In his mind oscar was the one living with the constant pain of being the one in love with y/n and having to deal with the consequences of his own actions. in this world, logan would be the one on the receiving end of words of encouragement and kisses after a good race and a hug that speaks a thousand words when the race doesn’t go exactly as planned. in his mind logan didn’t have to sleep around as a way to fill the empty hole that y/n had accidentally created. if only he wasn’t a good friend.

“i know” oscar says back before a knock sounds out.

“come in” logan shouts out, thinking that it was an engineer telling oscar that one of his ‘mclaren buddies’ was wanting him to return to his garage.

it wasn’t.

it was just y/n.

just his luck.

“i knew you would be here!” her voice coos, hands reaching out to hug oscar, who quickly reciprocates the hug and wraps an arm around her waist.

“shows we’re meant to be.” oscar says back facing logan.

“must be.” y/n replies before turning towards the other person in the room, “hey logan! how are you?”

“i’m perfect y/n. just perfect.”

lies.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 imagines #logan sargeant #logan sargeant imagine

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salutethesargeant · 19 days ago

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The Morning (Ch. 1) - LS2, AA23

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Alex Albon (Sargebon)

Summary: After the DNF in Vegas 2024, Alex lets his mind wander. The flashy lights of Vegas cause his memories to reminisce. He misses Vegas 2023. He misses being happy. He misses Logan. And for one night, his wishes are granted.

Tags: Slow burn, angst, (mutual) pining, alternating pov, reunions, really slow burn, Alex is really soft and wants praise (and Logan), more to be revealed later.

It’s been a long weekend.

Everyone at Williams Racing shared that exact sentiment. Tired and beaten down. For the past few weeks, there had been nothing short of gruelling labor for everyone involved under the dark blue roofs. From the drivers, the social media team, and especially the engineers: there was no break when it came to the Oxfordshire team. Cars had been totaled, wrecked even. Labor had been increased overtime with little to no increase in the already little pay compared to other teams. Spirits had been broken quicker than they had ever been briefly lifted. No one was safe from this seemingly cursed constructor.

There was one individual who had essentially his entire world flipped upside down the most, even if he still had the privilege to call his blue seat a home: Alexander Albon. Or simply Alex, as most called him. The Thai-British driver who would be proud, if he did not know any better and was actually happy about his circumstances, to say he was the only remaining person at Williams to have a permanent seat. His contract extension from months ago was already starting to age poorly. As poor as a book left in the burning sun.

He had been at Williams the longest compared to his past and future teammates. Logically, in a better team that didn’t have managers with their heads in the clouds or the dirt of their own asses, he should have the advantage. He should be their first priority if anything - but no. It seems the gambling hands of God had come to spite him in his last few races. Personally. Out of his control, then came the media ready to hawk him down. Claims of the Asian driver being supposedly “washed,” and “at risk of having his contract ripped” due to being unable to finish recently. Or worse, finish better than his new, rookie teammate. Week in, week out. A new problem with the car. But not just any car, his car. Of course, it had to be him.

Even worse, it had to be now. His car was not the one totalled in qualifying this weekend, thank God. But in standard Williams fashion, Alex could not have even just a standing car of duct tape and glue as something to be happy about. His race, not the best due to poor qualifying from the day before, was at least going. Progressing. Then it stopped. The worst words he had ever heard lately came next. Came too quick. His own engineer on the radio. Up in his ears, up in his mind. The first syllable said stung hard and nasty, everything else mixing into a deafening ring.

“Alex, Alex. We got a terminal problem here. We need to retire the car. Box box.”

And then, what does he say? Does he laugh? Does he cry? Oh how he wishes to be anything but a slave to his own command. It was barely a half of the race’s 50 laps. Barely anything. Before he could even process the cars around him, the flashing of the lights. The loudness of the world. His hands move on their own, he drives. Drives what little he can remaining on the strip with this car. This car that had caused nothing but reminded him of his suffering all season. A shackle tied to a block of cement in the ocean. He drives in the pitlane. He gets to the Williams garage. He hops out, replying to his engineer as he speaks without direction. Drives without direction. Physically he is there with the thousands upon thousands of people on the strip - mentally, he had fizzled out. Yet again.

No matter how hard the angel in blue and white weeped, his cries would never be answered.

The car that was not in need of repair during the break. His car that was not wrecked before the race or during qualifying and needed a rushed fixing. His car that was in one piece. His car, that because of a supposed power unit issue in his engine that was not detected earlier, had to be forcefully retired. Yes, that same car.

How does he do it? How does he not just lose it and cry on camera? Cry so everyone can see how much he can handle it, handle simply being at Williams. Handle his performance drop. Handle his luck. Handle everything he has gone through this season. A survivor of seeing the worst happen around him and to him. Perhaps there was someone on there who admired his mental strength of not effectively folding over already and sobbing his eyes out like a towel being ringed.

George would listen. Surely as another 2019 rookie, a close friend, and an ex-Williams mercenary - but he wouldn’t fully get it. Not yet to Alex’s judgement. Maybe Lando, but no. Alex crossed the other 2019 rookie out of his mind. Too busy with McLaren and Oscar, the 2023 rookie, to care. His mind is starting to buffer out here. The smell of pot is strong. He walks away from his car with his head down and helmet on. Somehow the stench is too widespread to block, penetrating through. Hell, the latinos were right about that atleast. Latinos… Franco!

His new teammate, an Argentine boy with fluffy hair and an odd sense of humor. The one that has been his teammate since he got in the FW46 in Monza. The one who was already having a cult-like fanbase to run around and throw rumors that he’d replace Alex at his own team, among others. That kid.

No, not him either.

Maybe he would listen, although Alex had noted that the boy preferred to talk than do the former. The Thai driver could be the one talking instead, rambling about his recent frustrations and deals with luck. His frustrations with the team principal, James Vowles. Hell, maybe about everything since the kid got his promotion. But no, that seemed too mean. It wasn’t his fault anyway. He was weird, sure. Quirky and eccentric like a cartoon or sitcom character. Pretty foreign to Alex’s own ways, Asian or Anglo. But he had no reason to hate him. Kid took his opportunity as a reserve driver, or technically had no other choice, and got an F1 seat for a few races. You’d be stupid not to take that.

No, no. He had no superficial reason to dislike him. In fact… he can confidently say he liked the kid. He was charming, cute, and marketable. So much the latter. Good at driving despite some foolish mistakes and accidents since the past few races. Can’t judge him for that either, he was young once too. They were both thrown in the deep end for a team that grew more unstable by the day. In a sense, it was just the both of them. Or it should be on paper. Franco seemed to prefer to hang out around his fellow Spanish speakers - Checo came to mind - or “rookies”, such as Haas and Ferrari’s Bearman. Alex had George and the rest of his own set of friends on the grid too, that didn’t bother him.

What did bother Alex was James Vowles’ unsubtle favoritism for Franco compared to himself, a bit more than it should bother him. A part of himself hated how nice he was. How grateful he was to the team for picking him back up on his feet years ago where Red Bull crippled him. He would be a hypocrite, like the late Gasly before him, to bite the hand that feeds. His mouth was sewn shut anyway. Glued. A good boy like him just let it happen, or risk being kicked.

Even without uttering a word other than another new rehashed set of “today’s race didn’t go so well for us ,” he was still at risk. But, that was James’ whole deal. Like a child, he forgot about his old favorite toy to play and prop up his new one instead. Franco was marketable. He was the hot new sensation. There was no benefit to gas up Alex anymore, especially not when Franco being priority causes Alex to lose form. Silly him, he should've seen it coming.

It happened earlier. Just with him, not to him like it was now.

Alex made his way deeper into the Williams garage, the sight of his useless car put away for examination and to make room for pit work. He tore and ripped at his helmet and fireproofs, putting them up on his locker and taking deep breaths. He could breathe now, he could! It still frankly smelled overwhelmingly like marijuana, but it was better than nothing. Air hitting his lungs as he coughed in his arms like he hadn't breathed in weeks; He hadn’t. It was the luck of the lord himself he did not suffocate already, let alone out on track before his race was cut. That didn’t matter now. His mind wasn’t even at the race anymore. Had it ever been?

Staring into the dark hazel of his temporary teammates eyes, he froze. Transfixed with the graphic on the side of the garage’s wall, a certain feeling of dread and grief washed over. For what exactly? Alex was the one who’s race was ruined that night, even if Franco binned it in the wall yesterday. Perhaps he wasn’t looking close enough. Perhaps, even, there was something about Franco and James’ insistence on the lad that put him off. Some sort of innate feeling he had been repressing that gave him full body chills. Vegas wasn’t even that cold.

Franco’s portrait was normal. He had seen similar stills of himself also plastered everywhere. Thank God the most that was taken from media day were the same 3 poses. Nevermind that, where was he again? Oh right, the still of Franco’s image in the Williams pitstop garage. An ordinary photo that had him situated in place, catching his attention somehow. There was a look in the picture’s eyes, something familiar yet too foreign for him to name. Maybe his mind was making a mountain out of a molehill. It wouldn’t be the first time in the past few months that it has.

The Thai driver tried leaving, wishing to get out of his race suit. Sweat, grime, Vegas’ dirty air. It was too much to carry after getting out of the car. Or if he was honest, as he had always been, too much in general. He had bent to reach his race shoes, pulling his ankles high and slipping off the laces one by one. There goes the bunny under the tunnel, or something similar. He couldn’t help but giggle, that saying was always amusing to him. It reminded him of a story that Logan told him when they used to take each other's garments off after races. He was just a kid and was learning to tie his shoelaces when-

Wait. Shit.

LOGAN.

That’s what he couldn’t remember! Logan! Throughout the entire weekend in Nevada, Alex had been dealing with this sickening feeling at the back of his mind, throat, and heart. Maybe even his loins if he thought long enough. At first he tried antibiotics. George told him it was probably nausea. Lando said jet lag. Nope. Wrong – Deja Vu. The one that makes your heart sink and your head heavy. A contagious sickness worse than any virus.

Why hadn’t he noticed it earlier? The signs were extremely obvious now that he was reflecting back on it, gaze turned towards the led ceiling. Franco reminded Alex everyday, not by his faults, of James’ decision to cut Logan off the team. The day it was announced. How Alex, choppily remembering bits as he slowly changed from race suit to regular merchandise, reacted the moment James told him before his American teammate. How he fought tooth and nail for Logan, insisting over and over how unfair his treatment was. Asking for second chances again and again for someone with a worse car than his, someone who’d never be given priority like him. How it eventually meant nothing.

By the waving of the checkered flag in Zandvoort, many moons ago for him to count, he was gone. Snap. Fade. Gone. There was no #2 at Williams Racing, there never was.

Instead, there laid #43. Soon to be replaced yet again by #55. In Franco’s first press conference on the big stage, accompanied by him and Vowles, he summarized the situation. In the blink of an eye and hush of a whisper, #2 was alive again. In that second, Alex wasn’t there. He didn’t want to be there in front of the crowd. Standing right next to Vowles. Just exposed to the public eye, feeling naked and flashed. No…

He was in the office at the Oxfordshire headquarters. Fist slamming desks. Chewing bark and swears at his own boss. All for Sargeant. A Sargeant that the older Brit had grown resentment over and tossed aside to the meat grinder. Someone Alex couldn’t save, even if this business was expected to be as bloody as a butcher shop.

A part of Alex died months ago too. He just wished the Argentine didn’t have that stare, the stare of the sheep. Enthusiastic, ready, willing. Unknown to the true horrors of this team, of it’s own team principal. A look that, with darker eyes that he was used to seeing, reflected himself back. In those hazel pools, he saw not only Franco, but himself and Logan. Franco was a good kid. But that’s all he was to the driver he raced with and the one he replaced: a kid. He brought presence to the team. To press conferences. To Team Torque episodes, but not comfort. Alex needed something more, as a hole was left empty in his chest.

He finally got his merchandise on, tossing the suit away. The light blue AA23 hat wasn’t fitting right on his hair no matter how much he shuffled it around, eventually giving up halfway placed. Eh no. He’s better with it off. With the zip of his darker blue jacket, adorned with Williams, Mercedes, and numerous sponsors, the sound of tire changes wake up again. He’s been zoning out too much the past few minutes. Perhaps Franco had done the team a favor while carrying them on his back, gaining good places. He’d check later. They’d certainly make it everyone’s problem and celebrate like no tomorrow at the slightest move he does anyway. But Vegas, while new to the rookie, wasn’t Alex’s concern.

A mini television screen in the corner of the part of the garage the half-Brit was in showed him the current results. George P1, of course, since starting on pole. That wasn’t surprising. Lewis P2. Carlos P3… Max ahead of Lando, determined to win his 4th consecutive World Championship by any means necessary. That’s the Max that Alex knows: always and always working towards betterment. Almost unhealthily so, but Alex couldn’t judge what the Dutchman took the high end in order to be the best. It was admirable, then and now. Nothing was surprising here, actually. Well, Franco was struggling. That was to be expected if qualifying meant anything. His poor car was patched back in a day with duct tape and spit. It’d be a miracle if he got points with the few laps left in the race.

The tall Thai was gathering his belongings to take to his locker, prepared to grab some water before putting on headphones and watching along with the engineers. A talk with James too about having to retire the car. Not much he could do but cheer on Franco for the remaining minutes and wait for the next week, as he had been saying for the past handful of races. Sigh.

It was silly of him to have a moment earlier, think of Logan. Sure, for the first Vegas Grand Prix, the two had left their mark in qualifying. In fact, there were more signs of their bonding beyond the day before the race from last year. Like a weird stroke of coincidence, things from this year set off his alarms and only he was not realizing it. How out of it was he? Think Albon, think! There was the obvious, Franco replaced Logan and the latter had just vanished in thin air. That one… didn’t need pointing out. Alex felt its impact every time he woke in team-reserved hotel bedrooms, with a bed too big and cold. Just him, only him. Not enough for a good night’s sleep. Still, there was that beating feeling lingering in the back of his head as he walked around the paddock and Vegas garage.

The first few days that Alex and Franco arrived in the desert state of Nevada, that blanketing feeling of familiarness had coated him once again. Strange then, a warning sign now. Seeing the city down from the window view of his plane, small and scattered like an anthill, look tiny enough to fit in the palm of his hands. His Argentine teammate had fallen asleep from their flight in England, resting his head on Alex’s shoulder without any care of falling drool or deafening snores. In another world, the gesture is adorable and cute. In this one, he barely noticed. Vegas wasn’t eye-catching in the daytime, but thankfully it was at night when they landed. There wasn’t much for him to do on his phone during the plane but look at old pictures. The ‘memories’ tab seemed to bring up pictures of the nearby canyons, Hoover Dam, and… Logan. Him and Logan, in a helicopter. These must’ve been the pictures that Logan airdropped to his phone when they got back to the hotel, as the blonde was the only one to bring his phone on their helicopter ride. Ah, yes. It was slowly coming back to him, slower than the pace of a snail or a Kick Sauber, but eventually.

A helicopter ride over Vegas, one Alex mistakenly referred to at the time as a “date.” Of course it was a date. Williams may have scheduled it for PR, like the rest of their little escapades and challenges they did on camera, but at the end of the day it was a daring date. Maybe only between them was Alex’s thinly veiled “joke” serious, but perhaps it was for the better. Lord knows what would come out of the media, not the speculative superfans, had they actually caught on. Alex and the rest of the grid witnessed the outcome of the 2022 season. The extended, messy meeting of two flirty championship contenders. There’s continuous debate on whether it has ended well enough or if it’s gotten messier by time… Who was he kidding, they’d never be like that.

Logan was gone. For some reason, even months later. Even a year later in “his” city, despite both of them having a bad race, (not free practice or qualifying session, however) the thought - the feeling - of him has returned. He was too British for this, as he drank like a dehydrated traveler from his water. Vegas was Sin City. A hotpot of debauchery. But there was charm. Sick, wicked fun at every corner. For a place that his former teammate wasn’t born in, let alone didn’t grow up in, it screamed his name.

He’s lost track of where he is in the Williams garage again, holding a bottle of water in one hand and carrying his dirty racing gear in another arm. This has to be, what, the fifth time already? He was typically the more grounded one in reality of the two. Even Franco was spacier than this. God, he’s a mess. No wonder Williams picked him up and Red Bull dropped him. Okay, okay, Albon. Enough with the self-deprecation, he thought.

He had set his phone, this time one in the present rather than days ago when he was in a plane, to update its wallpaper with random photos from the gallery. Every day every hour - a new image was to be on his lockscreen. But with the brunette, well, it was random. Sometimes of the day it would be one of his cats or other animals. Another moment it would be of George or Lando striking a silly pose or looking like a fool during padel. Occasionally he’d see his mum or even himself as the center point. How he wished it was either of those today.

This wallpaper was set to one of the photos from when Franco and he had gone to the arena and met with the hockey team, the Golden Knights, for a PR challenge. It was fun. Silly. He visited the team exactly last year with someone more passionate for hockey, especially American hockey. The self-proclaimed “Florida Panthers boy” who kept whining to Alex about how Williams was forcing them (him mainly) to wear a “bad” jersey. The same American who blabbed and chattered about the intricacies of Florida hockey (something Alex never really understood. Why play a winter sport in the hottest state?) and other Miami sport teams during their bus ride. The same American… or really, Alex’s only American influence.

What was he doing? He cupped his face in his hands, taking deep breaths as he regained composure and spatial awareness. He checked the time on his phone. Wasting time over a man, a lost teammate. A former friend. Yet, perhaps if he did give James more of a fight that day so many months ago… if he didn’t tear up live at their public fanmeet when Franco mentioned him… if he did more, much more to support him when he was still there… if he…

And there he was monologing again. It wasn’t healthy, but what was at this point? He’d leave this team too if it meant he'd be less stressed by a landslide. Logan… atleast looked happy from what Alex saw on the blonde’s Instagram page. On the photos he liked, hoping to reach out even if there was no response on the other end since Zandvoort.

Surely, if he didn’t figure it out by now, he can’t keep doing this. But how could he not? Williams was getting worse by each race weekend, costs were ramping up as with a multitude of issues. If they kept going at this rate, Alex would be lucky to cross the finish line at all if his car didn’t fall apart again. Like today, and the last race day, and the last, and the… Fuck him at this point. It was getting harder to continue with a smile, but he tried. Tried too much until it hurt his face. There were only 2 more races left in the triple header. In the season.

He could make it, he knew he could. He hopes he will. But he’s mentally still in Holland. Who knows if he’ll ever be able to leave.

The brown and black of his bangs stuck to his forehead, sweat covering his skin as much as the rag beside him couldn’t wipe. The water from his cold bottle was already running out, his straw covered in bite marks from compulsively chewing to relieve stress. It was almost over. Franco was in p15, his car still together even if he was struggling to keep up with the other cars. Alex kept an eye on the mini TV in the corner of the cooldown room, occasionally looking up when his breath recovered. His mind still wasn’t there, but that was an established lost cause.

The announcers screamed outside the garage and on the screen, lighting up in joy as George finished as the winner and Max was officially crowned as world champion. A replay showed the early celebrations and team radios coming from the two European drivers. The Mercedes man yelling at the top of his lungs, ecstatic as ever while the Red Bull cried in joy. Good for them, really. Franco was overtaken by Zhou. P16. Another day in the office for him. No points. Sigh.

Maybe the lights were too bright for them. There wasn’t much hope to be bought with a struggling car, but the addition of new upgrades and a new teammate atleast had points finishes when it counted. When it did, but that was becoming too few and far between. You can't expect a kid to perform miracles every week when Alex's car busts up, again. And again. This was redundant now. The bright lights were blinding from outside the garage and the replayed footage on the television, straining the Thai driver’s eyes. Since the last car had finally crossed the line, the winners and podium makers were celebrating with their teams. Screentime switched between the absolutely buzzing atmospheres of Red Bull and Mercedes, champagne flying everywhere and fireworks sparkling in the sky.

He misses it, misses actually celebrating something. Points, a podium, a win, and championship after a grueling campaign. It’s been years, well not as bad as some facing much worse droughts, since his last one. Since soaking Max and the Red Bull engineers in the finest champagne the world had to offer. Being on top of the world. Many of the fans in the audience were celebrating too, with footage being clipped of various fandoms jumping in joy or crying in pain after their favorite contender losing. Plenty of famous people were being shown, none to catch Alex’s eye other than the usual he saw already. His tanned hand ran through his dark hair, reshaping its fluff and volume as he was finishing off his recovery. The ice had run warm, room temperature. With a deep breath, he pulled away his worries of today and started thinking about next week at Qatar. What new strategies he’ll discuss with his engineers, what he’ll learn after they assess his engine failure from minutes earlier, what next week has in store. The whole nine yards, as someone across the pond would say.

The commentators spoke over themselves one on one, their shouts and screams mixing together in a word vomit of praise and dramatic theatrics. Max won, George won, Lando lost, McLaren lost. Everyone lost but Red Bull and Mercedes. Ferrari were shaken up yet had a podium to take home. Williams were also tonight’s biggest losers, but what was new. Even last year, despite hitting Q3 in qualifying and setting too high of expectations then compared to now, was less embarrassing than today. Alex leaned against the cool wall of the secluded room, prepared for Franco to show sometime after parking his car in the parc fermé. The television stream of the race had mentioned his name a few times, but not enough to cause him to lift his head. More fan footage was being shown. The Vegas Strip was covered in flashy lights and firework sights. It would be beautiful to view if he wasn’t preoccupied. More clips from the podium celebrations followed after, champagne showers and confetti snowfall in the desert. Bright, colorful trophies and angelic lighting on the top three. More fans and celebrities in the crowd.

Alex was about prepared to leave to find his team principal, more than likely with the Argentine, by the entrance to the garage. With hands and arms of supplies in white and blue, he suddenly lost his grip and dropped them all. A mess in the blink of an eye, a flap of the butterfly’s wing, a second of the moment. The rich, dark chocolate doe-like brown of his eyes widened at the mention, his head snapping to the television screen at the corner as the broadcast selected few special guests in the paddock. The smell of marijuana in the air seemed to dissipate and his ability to breathe abandoned him, his throat getting tight until he felt like suffocating. There and then, his eyes had met him again. Right when he thought he never would again since the start of autumn. Somehow, despite thin breaths and a growing weakness in his knees and arms, he reached out towards the screen and uttered in a wispy voice. At a true loss for words, only one came out.

“Logan?”

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unformula1 · 8 months ago

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jealousy and regret (OP81 x LS2)

part 1 part 2: “eugh… alexander albon” oscar gets smacked in the face by his talk with logan and alex. w/c: 1576 day 28 of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium (series masterlist) masterlist

“I’m sorry. Do you know where… Logan is?” Oscar quietly asks one of the engineers.

“Oscar?”

Oscar hears the all-familiar voice and turns around.

He’s met face to face with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed American.

“Logan!”

And just like clockwork, here comes Alexander Albon. The British-Thai 2019 rookie who honestly, Oscar has nothing against, other than the fact that he pretty much stole Logan away from him.

Alex slides next to Logan, hand swung around Logan’s shoulder, leaning onto him.

“Morning Oscar.” Alex says.

Oscar purses his lips.

Shit. Oscar shouldn’t be like this, he should be glad that Logan has someone to support him better. Oscar should be happy for Logan…

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his head and does his best to suppress them as Alex starts invading Logan’s personal space.

He grits his teeth, clenching his jaw.

“What brings you here?” Logan says with that wide smile on his face.

That makes Oscar feel slightly better, at least Logan still smiles at him.

“Uhm… you.” Oscar blurts out, clearly something didn’t go through a filter.

The silence in the room suddenly becomes louder, the awkwardness is tangible and the tension grows thicker.

Alex’s arm slides away from Logan’s shoulder, he’s still standing within Logan’s personal bubble though.

Logan clearly doesn’t read the room well.

“Oh… what’s up then!” He says, the excitement in his voice sharply contrasting the clear tensions building up right now.

“We should…” Oscar finally puts his words through a filter, “Talk. We should talk.” Oscar clears his throat as he finishes.

Obviously Oscar sounded awkward because Logan cocks up an eyebrow, which is something Logan does when he’s unsure of what’s happening. Oscar silently bets Alex doesn’t know that.

“I mean…” Logan chooses his words carefully, “Yea. Of course, I think so too. We really haven’t talked in a while.”

Oscar’s uneasiness fades off and he smiles, a small chuckle escapes too.

“We’ll get to talk later, sometime soon yea?” Logan thinks before saying.

Oscar nods, “Yep. Yep!”

“Right, so see you then?” Logan says.

“Alright!” Oscar says, internally cheering.

It all disappears in an instant when Alex and Logan walk off, being unbearably close as usual. However, something ruins it all, Alex leans into Logan, whispering something into his ear and Logan chuckles loudly at it.

God Oscar absolutely hates it.

The delicate barrier between internal jealousy and external jealousy shatters.

He’s so gonna get Alex out of this story. He’s so gonna get Logan back. He’s so gonna become Logan’s number one again.

Who did Alex think he was?

A few (admittedly painful) hours pass and Oscar sits in his driver’s room. Suddenly Lando’s murder plan doesn’t seem too bad now.

Speak of the devil.

Lando swings open Oscar’s door.

“Osc. You’re acting strange.” Lando says.

Straightforward, as always.

“How so?” Oscar says, hiding his misery with a fake smile.

“Don’t try that on me.” Lando says as he walks into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, “Spill right now.”

“I already told you. Williams drivers. Me and Logan.” Oscar says, his voice with a tinge of annoyance.

“Yea well usually you don’t dwell on it for too long, and haven’t you already talked to Logan?” Lando shrugs.

“Yes but it’s not that simple, Lando.” Oscar says, eerily monotonously.

“So… there’s something more?” Lando inquires.

Oscar rolls his eyes. He’s gonna hate Lando for this.

“I hate how Alex is close to Logan.” Oscar admits.

“Woah.” Lando says, his hands raising up, “What?”

“Alex doesn’t deserve it.” Oscar, once again, feels the jealousy completely removing his filter.

“They’re teammates, they’re going to be close. Just like us!” Lando says.

“Yea well, he wasn’t there for Logan when Logan was crying on a hotel bed.” Oscar scoffs, “You know who was? Me.”

Lando’s taken aback. He processes Oscar’s words first before trying his best to phrase the next sentence nicely.

“That’s very pretentious of you.” Lando says.

And it’s like a slap in the face for Oscar, he finally realises what he just said. Shit. Then the past few hours of murder plotting hit him in the face as well. Double Shit. He’s really letting this jealousy take over him.

“Fuck.” Oscar whispers.

“What?” Lando asks, moving slightly closer to Oscar.

“I feel horrible. That was so horrible of me.” Oscar buries his face into his hands, “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. These past weeks, it’s just been jealousy, jealousy, jealousy.”

Lando nods a few times.

“Well…” Lando thinks, “You should talk to Logan about this. Maybe apologise for being possessive too.”

It’s obvious Lando means it as a joke but Oscar feels like it’s a punch into the gut. He’s been insanely possessive.

“But seriously, talk to Logan about this.” Lando shrugs.

“Okay.” Oscar says as he stands up, brushing past Lando and walking out the room.

“I didn’t mean now… but okay.”

------

Oscar sees Logan filming Williams' media in the garage, right next to Alex. He suppresses the thoughts, constantly reminding himself that Alex deserves it.

They end shortly after and Oscar makes his way over to Logan. He, rather rudely, inserts himself into the picture, standing next to Logan.

“Hi Oscar.” Alex says, which prompts Logan to greet Oscar.

“Hey Osc.” Logan says.

“Can we talk… like right now.” Oscar says.

“I mean, sure, with Alex or…” Logan replies.

Oscar hesitates. Would that help?

“Okay.” Oscar says on instinct.

“Alright, cool.” Logan says and pats the seat next to him for Oscar to sit.

Oscar sits down, in between the two Williams drivers. He takes a deep breath before starting.

“Is this about Lando?” Alex jokes which prompts a laugh from Logan. Oscar laughs too, but with slight bitterness.

“No… it’s about you two.” Oscar says.

“Oh.” Alex replies.

“You know what, this is getting out of hand, I’m just gonna get straight to the point.” Oscar rambles.

“Why the hell are you two so close?” Oscar says, directing the question to Logan.

This question takes both Williams drivers by surprise, and seeing as though this question came without a filter, it surprises Oscar too.

“Because we’re teammates…” Logan says.

“Yes I know that but you two are… close close.” Oscar exaggerates his hand movements.

“Uhm…” Logan hesitates, “I guess Alex has been pretty nice to me, being a great person and all that.”

Oscar can feel his jealousy rising again, even more when Alex smiles at Logan.

Logan proceeds to tell his entire story about Qatar and all the races, along with how Alex helped Logan.

“Alex sat next to me while I cried, because I had no one else.” Logan says and it feels like he’s on the brink of tears.

Oscar’s jealousy gets replaced by guilt. He had no one else.

“Everyone hated me. Well, exaggeration but that’s how I felt.” Logan says and Alex places one hand on Logan’s thigh, “But Alex was there. So it was better.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. Oscar can feel the guilt piling up.

And then it finally dawns on him. Alex deserves Logan, not Oscar. In fact, Oscar doesn’t deserve Logan.

He’s placed everything else above Logan in the past year. Logan and his friendship didn’t matter to him, he was blinded; and while he was gone, Alex was there, to sit next to Logan while he cried on the hotel bed.

God he’s been a horrible friend. Everyone there knows that. Alex knows that, Logan knows that too.

He let Logan go and now, like some brat, he expected Logan back again. He really was pretentious. He only cared about Logan once it got too late. He pretty much ignored Logan for the better part of the year, burying their friendship 6 feet deep.

Oscar can feel his regret building as Logan looks into Alex’s eyes. Usually it would be jealousy.

This was his second chance.

“Sorry.” Oscar manages, a sting in his throat preventing him from speaking.

“What?” Logan asks.

“Sorry Logan.” Oscar repeats.

“For what…?” Logan’s oblivious.

“Being a shit friend.” Oscar says as he stifles a sniff.

“No… definitely not.” Logan laughs, “You’ve been a great friend.”

“You don’t need to lie.” Oscar sobs slightly.

Alex pats Oscar on the shoulder.

“Sorry to you too.” Oscar says to Alex.

Confusion builds on Alex’s face but he doesn’t inquire further, which is to Oscar’s benefit.

“It’s alright mate.” Alex says.

Oscar falls into Logan’s embrace, they hug.

Alex winks at Logan and gets up, “I’ll see you two soon.”

“I’ve been nothing but horrible. Please… forgive me, please.” Oscar says, his voice muffled from burying his head into Logan’s chest.

“Mate… I really have no clue what you’re talking about.” Logan says, his voice laced with concern.

Oscar looks up into Logan’s eyes, sniffling. He takes another deep breath, cleaning away his tears.

“You will not believe the things I have been thinking about these days.” Oscar says, “I’ve been so… so horrible.”

Logan cocks his eyebrow up again.

“I’ve been jealous.”

There, he said it. Somehow it lifts a giant weight off Oscar’s chest.

“Of me and Alex?” Logan asks.

“Yes. Exactly that.” Oscar replies, “But I’ve realised. I’m a bitch.”

“Hey! Don’t say that about yourself.” Logan says, quickly hugging Oscar again.

Oscar struggles to get something out.

“I forgive you man. Let’s start again, yea?” Logan says while hugging Oscar.

Oscar nods, once again.

Logan pats Oscar’s head as they hug for a bit.

------ a/n: hope you like it lol. a little rushed but i tried to make it work.

EXTRA SCENE (Completely non-loscar related btw)

Lando have they talked? tell me they’ve talked Alex They have. Yes. Lando and they talked about their friendship right. Alex Yes Lan They did. Lando great! Alex I know. Who would’ve believed Oscar would be jealous. Lando me. i said it before Alex No one believes you anyway. Lando do you forgive oscah? Alex Yes. Because if I was him, I’d be jealous of me and Logie’s perfect relationship too Lando blah blah shut up. Alex Tell Oscar I forgive him And that Logan is all his again. I’ll still be a great teammate though. Lando Oscar says thank you.

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