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no-144444 · 7 months ago

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whiplash- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist.

pls remember this is fiction and purely for fun!

(HOLY SHIT THEY WON THE CONSTRUCTORS!!!!!!!)

(dw i have many fics planned for the end of season stuff, so be prepared for them to come out in the next week or so!)

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Recovery after the crash was pretty straight forward, no bright lights, too much screen time, or loud noise for 2 weeks, and thankfully, you had a month off.

Only problem? Someone had to take care of you for those two weeks, and that someone was Oscar Piastri.

And what a roommate he was. He unloaded your things from the car as you unlocked the door to your house, letting him in, and he didn’t let you carry a thing. He sent you straight to bed while he made some sort of bland, diet-approved dinner for the two of you and brought it up to you with very little speaking. You enjoyed it though, listening to some random youtube video at a very low volume, and then you just slept, despite the pounding headache you had.

Oscar stayed downstairs, looking around the place. You had a lot of books, which he realised made a lot of sense. You were often reading on race weekends. You had a lot of artwork as well, mostly from what he assumed to be local artists in Monaco, and some from your home country. He walked through room after room, finding more about you as he went on. You liked a specific band, you collected records, you liked stationary (you had a lot of extras in your office), you had two of the same pairs of sunglasses (he assumed it was because you often lost them), you had very few pictures of yourself with friends, but many of just your friends, you had nothing to do with racing anywhere in your home. The only room that had anything remotely racing related was your simulator room, which just had your sim and some team merch you’d been given. He wondered where you kept all of your suits and helmets from other years, where you kept the trophies.

“You’re snooping,” you said from behind him. He jumped, turning to you. The whole house felt so suffocatingly you. You were around each corner, things that reminded him of you were everywhere. It wasn’t easy, like in the garage. He was out of his comfort zone , out of his routine. His plan had been to go home for the break, but now he was taking care of the pretty girl he spoke to over the radio. The bottom line was that he was scared. He was scared he wouldn’t get over the crush, he was scared you’d reject him, and he was scared of his feelings being too obvious and scaring you away. He couldn’t let his months of hard work go to waste over something as silly as his feelings, and he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry without support, half way through the season with a team who didn’t like you. You did look quite cute though, even in the dim light (he’d gone around and closed all of the curtains in the house, only allowing a small amount of light in), tired and groggy, but pretty all the same.

“Just trying to find my bearings,” he smiled. “Did you sleep?”

You nodded. “I’ll show you the guest room,” you said, leaving the doorway and walking away. He followed behind. The conversation didn’t flow as easily as it had before. Oscar felt… surrounded. By you. And he wasn’t sure he was totally upset by it. Everything in this house was you. It made sense, it was your house. He just wasn't… used to it. He followed behind you, staring at the ground as you both walked up the stairs.

“You don’t keep any racing stuff in the house,” he stated.

You shrugged. “Why should I?”

“It’s your passion?” he suggested.

You just stayed silent. “This is your room. There’s a bathroom connected, so if you need anything, just tell me. You have free reign of the house, just obviously not my bedroom… so yeah.”

He nodded. “Thank you, do you need anything for your head?”

You shook your head. “Sleep.”

He nodded. “Text me if you need anything-”

“No screens,” you reminded him. He frowned.

You couldn’t shout, and neither could he, neither of you could text, but you had to communicate somehow. He had an idea. “I have an idea,” he said.

You stared at him expectantly.

“Walkie talkies.”

And you laughed. You genuinely, unashamedly, fully, laughed. And it was a sound he would do anything to hear again. The tension broke. The house didn’t feel as suffocating as it once had, and it felt as easy as being in the garage. He felt himself smile, smiling at you. He liked seeing you smile, the kind of smile that showed your teeth, that made your nose scrunch, that made him see the small glimpse of you.

Not the racer, not the fighter, not the victor. You.

“That works,” you nodded, the smile still on your lips. You looked down for a moment. “Thank you for taking care of me, Oscar. It means a lot. No one’s ever… done this for me.”

He frowned despite himself and cursed himself when he saw that you noticed. “I’m happy to be here. I’m happy that I get to make sure you’re ok.”

You offered him a sad smile, and left him to ‘find his bearings’ in his room. He huffed as he sat on the bed, looking around the room. There was a vanity with a mirror (we wouldn’t use it, but maybe he'd put the sunscreen his sister had been bugging him to use there, just to see if he’d remember to use it in the mornings), aa bed (a king bed, which he was very happy with), bedside tables with some random lights, a wardrobe, a mirror, white walls, hardwood floors, and a big window seat. He looked out into the garden, and it was green. Plants, fruits, vegetables, everything. So that was your hobby. Gardening.

He chuckled. You were full of surprises. He wanted to figure every last one of them out.

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The next few days went quickly, mostly you two were on different schedules. Oscar was working during the way (no rest for any McLaren employee, especially not when you were P2 in the standings), while you slept and stayed up during the night. You went into the garden, caring for your plants all night long, reheated leftovers from Oscar (he was a surprisingly good cook), and listened to podcasts and music (at a low volume).

That all changed when he found you in the garden at 2am, soft music playing as you collected plums from your trees, he smiled.

“Busy?” he called out. You shook your head, placing them in the basket. “I didn’t realise you were such a gardener.”

“It’s peaceful,” you admitted. “Slow.”

“A racecar driver likes going slowly?” he questioned. You rolled your eyes, sitting beside him on the bench.

“Not all of us are the same on and off track, alright?”

He chuckled. “Fine, you got me there,” he admitted, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “What else does F1 driver Y/n Y/l/n like to do?”

And the air shifted for some inexplicable reason. He was too close to you, too personal, too… something. You felt everything tenfold, every hair on the back of your neck standing to full attention. He didn’t mean to make it sound flirty, surely. You told yourself.

He wasn’t even sure of that himself.

“I like dancing,” you answered, your voice soft and small, softer than he’d ever heard you. “When I was a kid I was a dancer. I gave it up for racing, but I still enjoy it.”

He swore he was the one with whiplash. You were so hot and cold. One minute you were telling him about you childhood dreams, the next you were screaming at him over the radio to go fuck himself. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “What about you?”

“I like to spend time with my family,” he admitted. “But you know that.”

You smiled, a small, shy smile, but a smile all the same (aka, he counted it as a win). “They seem fun.”

“They are,” he nodded, smiling brightly. “They’re crazy but I love them.”

“When they come to a race, I’d like to meet them,” you expressed. He stared at you for a moment. He really took you in, sitting there with your legs up against your chest looking nothing like the strong racecar driver you’d made him think was your only personality. He thanked his lucky stars that he got to see you like this. Laid back, shy, reserved, perfect, you.

“I’d like that,” he smiled.

“Me too.”

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He woke up one night (after 4 whole days of radio silence from the last night you’d spoken) to music playing in the living room. He silently crept downstairs as the smooth voices of Frank Sinatra and Nancy Sinatra filled his ears. There you stood, swaying in your living room in your pjs as you ate your food. Your hair was down, your eyes were closed, your body just swayed. You looked so… free. Sometimes, he forgot you were only 22 (only a year younger than him, but whatever). You didn’t have regular friends that you could just talk to, you had colleagues who worked for the same team as you. You had no family support, you were effectively alone.

But you had him, and he reminded himself of that as he sat on the last step, watching you truly let go.

“You should join me,” you said, eyes closed, but still noticing his presence. “Dancing is good for your health.”

“Is it now?” he smirked, getting up and joining you, despite the nerves in his stomach.

You nodded, wrapping an arm around his neck, your eyes still firmly closed. “It’s physical exercise.”

He nodded, placing his hands on your waist. He leaned as close as he could to your face, studying every detail he could. Every freckle, every crinkle of your eyes, every acne scar, all of it. And he thought you were perfect.

Your eyes opened, and you had a small smile on your lips, standing on his feet as he swayed you both. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re worth staring at,” he admitted.

“Smooth,” you chuckled. Again, whiplash.

You laid your head against his chest, letting him take the lead for a few moments. “Oscar?”

He hummed.

“Thank you for being my friend. I’ve never had one of those before. It’s really nice.”

As much as your confession broke his heart, he was glad he could be your friend, even if he hoped he could be something more.

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Zandvoort rolled around, and the garage was buzzing. You were catching Max, only 30 points between the two of you, as the title fight truly began. The RB20 was falling back, and you were only getting quicker. 5 wins under your belt. Monaco, Canada, Austria, UK, Hungary. You were a winner, and a podium anywhere else. Lando was only falling further behind, as the team shifted their focus to you. You got more attention, more praise, more weight on your shoulders. More people came to you, treated you with respect, acted differently.

It was a lot. You were overwhelmed.

But Oscar stayed the same. Always the voice of reason, the voice of calm in the storm that was F1. He was calm over the radio, celebrating with you when you crossed the line first.

You’d won on max’s home turf. That was truly something.

“You’ll go on the podium with me, right?”you asked as you crossed the line.

He smiled in the garage, blushing slightly. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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“Something worth celebrating!” Zak cheered as he entered the garage.

You were soaked in champagne, but happy all the same. It had been a hard season, but you were trudging on and continuing, looking forward to the things on the horizon. You were the woman with the highest points scored, ever. You had multiple wins in a row. You were in the title fight. You were a rookie.

“Something to be proud of,” Oscar nudged your arm, smiling as he sat beside you in the debriefing room. You offered him a soft smile.

“Thanks Osc,” you answered, unaware of the way you’d made his heart beat far too fast for something as simple as a nickname.

“Stop eye-fucking each other,” Lando scoffed.

“Stop trying to fuck her races up, then come back to me,” Oscar shot back. Lando did have some sort of love for fucking up your races (cough cough Belgium cough cough).

Lando shut up.

It was nice to have someone in your corner.

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keeryhours · 7 months ago

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wildflower chapter two

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Corroded Coffin performs their homecoming show in Hawkins, and mistakes are made.

Chapter Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, unprotected sex, drunk sex, underage drinking, secret baby

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N:

This next chapter was a long time coming, but I hope you guys enjoy!

—

The rest of the week was a blur. You hadn’t thought of Eddie this much in over a year, and having him thrown back into your consciousness was like opening an old wound. You tried your best to push it out of your mind and keep yourself busy with work and chasing after Asher, but it was fruitless.

Steve and Robin were at your apartment Thursday night, the usual hangout since the three of you shared the night off. Asher was fresh out of his bath, dressed in his pajamas and sitting on the floor showing off his toy trains to Robin, who, to her credit, showed equal enthusiasm even on the 50th time of seeing the same Thomas the Tank Engine.

Steve and Robin had come armed with movies - these weekly hangouts usually turned into movie nights, especially when something new came into Family Video that one of them snatched up. Not that you’d complain.

“Alright, Ash. Time for bed,” you said, although the nearly 2 year old paid you no mind as he picked up Percy, the green train.

“You heard her, buddy. Time for the trains to go back to the station,” Robin said, helping the toddler gather his toys.

Asher pouted, but he helped put the trains in his toy box anyway. Once the toys were cleaned up, you lifted him into your arms, heading into his bedroom. A fresh diaper and a kiss goodnight later, you turned the lights off and slowly closed the door behind you.

Back in the living room, you flopped down on the cheap couch with a deep sigh.

“What’s on your mind, Henderson?” Robin asked, still lounging on the carpet. “You’ve been in your head all week.”

Steve looked at her like she was dumb. “Corroded Coffin?”

Robin rolled her eyes at him. “Are you thinking about going?”

You sighed again, running a hand through your hair to push it out of your face. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Steve looked at you sympathetically. “You know…it might be good. You never got that closure. Even if you just want to go to throw a drink in his face.”

You bit back a grin at the idea. He deserved it, that was for sure. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Do you think you’re going to wonder what if for the rest of your life if you don’t go?”

Steve’s sudden sage words caught you off guard. You hated to admit he was right. After these two years of wondering what you had done wrong to deserve his abandonment, there were definitely still wounds deep inside that never had the chance to heal.

Maybe you did need to see him.

—

Saturday night, with Ash at your mom’s house, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t believe that you’d let yourself be talked into this. Dressed in a short black skirt, tight top with a leather jacket over top, you felt like you were looking at your high school self again. Like nothing had ever changed. Like Eddie was going to walk up behind you at any moment and wrap his arms around your waist with a wink and a “Looking good, baby.”

“Ready to go?” Steve asked as you walked back out into your living room. Steve and Robin wouldn’t be blending into the crowd at The Hideout as well as you would, and the idea nearly made you laugh a little.

“I guess so,” you said. “I’m ready for a drink.”

The Hideout really wasn’t much different than you remembered, besides the fact that it was absolutely packed full with a huge line out the door. It was surreal to see so many people wearing Corroded Coffin merch, the crowd absolutely buzzing with excitement.

Inside, you pushed your way through to the bar, Steve and Robin following close behind. You may still be a few months away from 21, but you knew that wouldn’t matter.

“Hey, Chris,” you greeted the bartender with a smile. He hadn’t changed a bit in the past two years.

“Well! Long time no see,” Chris greeted, his face lighting up. He pushed three beers across the bar without having to be asked. “I should have known you’d be here to see your boy play.”

Your boy. You resisted a wince as you passed bottles to Steve and Robin and opened your own, taking a big swig. “Yeah, of course.”

The crowd was intense. It had been a long time since you’d been in this scene - hell, it had been a long time since your nights had been more exciting than an episode of Sesame Street. Visually you fit in, but you still found yourself standing off to the side with your friends rather than joining the crowd of fans.

You downed your beer in no time and ordered another. You were already multiple beers in before the opening act even came on.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked, eyeing you as you popped open your fourth beer. “We can leave if you don’t want to do this.”

You shook your head. You were already here, you were going to do this. “I’m good,” you assured him, waving him off. He still eyed you warily, but didn’t push it.

You barely paid any mind to the opening act. Sure, they were good, but you knew what you were waiting for. Your heart thundered wildly in your chest, although the nerves in your stomach were fading with every drink.

When the opening act left the stage, the change in atmosphere was palpable. The crowd began to chant and cheer, and then -

There they were.

Gareth walked out first, drumsticks in hand. You felt your breath catch in your throat - the memories came rushing back. The other guys followed behind, and then finally - Eddie.

Eddie sauntered out with a cocky grin and a hand up in a wave to the crowd, who were screaming so loud you thought your eardrums might burst. Your blood felt like ice, you didn’t think your heart could beat any harder without killing you. He looked like himself, but there was something obviously different. He wore a tight pair of ripped jeans on his long legs, a Metallica tee with the same leather jacket he always wore. You hated how familiar it felt. He carried himself with the confidence of a real rockstar. You supposed that’s what he was now.

He approached the microphone. “Hello, Hawkins,” he drawled, and the cheers somehow grew even louder. A bra flew from the crowd and landed at his feet, and he reached down and picked it up with a chuckle, hanging it on the mic stand. You rolled your eyes.

“It’s good to be back in our hometown,” he continued, that grin still on his face. “You guys made us what we are. We owe it all to you. We couldn’t imagine ending the tour anywhere else.”

The crowd ate up every word. And Eddie looked like he reveled in the attention. He looked so natural on stage. He was living his dream, after all.

As Gareth hit his drum sticks together and the band started their first song, Eddie scanned the crowd. You had felt sure you, Steve, and Robin were far enough into the shadows on the sides that you’d be unnoticeable, but with that magnetism you two had always shared - Eddie’s eyes locked on yours.

He froze. The cocky facade dropped and his mouth parted in shock as you stared at each other. You felt dizzy all of a sudden, like you might pass out. Ever observant, Robin noticed immediately, eyes darting between you and Eddie. He nearly missed the opening line of the song before he jolted back to awareness.

“I need another drink,” you mumbled, pushing through the crowd and back to the bar.

You didn’t slow down on the drinks as the show went on. Eddie was taking shots onstage, like he needed to feel numb just as bad as you did. By the end of their set, Eddie was drunk, yet he still managed to perform perfectly.

“Thank you, Hawkins,” he slurred into the mic as the show ended. “Next round’s on us for everyone!”

That set the crowd even wilder than they had been. The band exited the stage, and you pushed back through the crowd to the bar again, stumbling in your boots as the room tilted around you. You heard Steve calling your name from somewhere behind you, but you lost your friends in the crowd in your pursuit of yet another drink.

“One more on my tab, Chris,” you slurred once you reached the bar.

“Add her whole tab to mine,” an uncomfortably familiar voice came from behind you. “And another round of shots for me and the boys.” You felt chills across your skin as Chris nodded and pushed you another drink before he poured the alcohol into four shot glasses.

You saw his ringed hand reach forward and grab one of the glasses. You slowly turned to meet his eyes as he downed the shot, shooting you a smirk as he smacked it back down on the bar top.

“Well,” he slurred, his eyes just as glassy as your own. “Hello again, beautiful.”

You were so drunk that you didn’t even remember how he hurt you. How he abandoned you. You just saw Eddie, and your heart reached for him through your chest just like it always did.

“Eddie,” you whispered, as if there was nothing else to say.

He kept smirking at you, his large hand landing on your upper back and then sliding down to rest on your hip. His eyes roamed over your outfit, drinking you in hungrily.

You didn’t mind.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his hand squeezing your hip posessively and pulling you closer. Your head spun with the motion, and you weren’t sure if it was from the alcohol or from Eddie himself.

“I missed you too,” you admitted, both to him and to yourself.

“Want me to take you home?” he asked, leaning forward, his voice a purr in your ear. It sent goosebumps across your skin.

Even in your drunken haze, you knew you shouldn’t say yes. Eddie had done something truly shitty to you, and you had no intention of forgiving him that quickly, or maybe even at all. But he was just as intoxicating as the large amounts of alcohol in both of your systems, and you found yourself letting him lead you backstage and out the back door.

You were so drunk yourself that you hadn’t even thought about whether Eddie could even drive in his state, but he ushered you into the back of a car with a man already sitting in the driver’s seat before sliding in beside you. His hand rested on your thigh as you told the man the address of your apartment, rising higher and higher until it was teasing under the hem of your skirt.

He pulled you into him as the car started moving. Your lips found each other like they’d never been apart, and he kissed you hungrily, tasting like alcohol and cigarettes, but you didn’t care.

Neither you nor Eddie seemed to care a single bit that there was a stranger in the front seat as an audience to the two of you all over each other. Your apartment wasn’t far from the dive bar, and before you knew it you were stumbling out of the car hand in hand with Eddie, both of you giggling like it was 1985 again and you were just two kids in love.

It took you three attempts to unlock the front door of your apartment, your vision hazy and your brain even fuzzier from the feeling of Eddie’s hands all over you, pushing up your top right there in the hallway while he placed sloppy kisses against your neck and shoulders.

When the door finally opened, you barely had time to kick your boots off and drop your leather jacket before Eddie was pushing you up against the door, slamming it closed. You moaned against his lips as they devoured your own, his tongue exploring your mouth desperately. He pulled your top over your head and dropped it to the floor. Your lipstick was smeared across his face, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

“Look so fucking sexy,” Eddie mumbled as he moved in to attach his mouth to your neck, sucking love bites all across the skin. “I’ve thought about you every day.”

You didn’t have the brain power at the moment to process those words. The drinks had already taken all concepts of critical thought, but every moment of Eddie’s mouth and tongue against your neck drowned out coherent thought itself.

His hands lowered from your hips to the back of your bare thighs and he squeezed. You worked in tandem just like old times as you jumped up for him and he gripped your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel how hard he was already through his jeans, pressed up against your core.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked breathlessly, moving back to your lips.

“Last door down the hall,” you mumbled back, and then you were pulled away from the door as he walked down the hall, carrying you like you weighed nothing. He was sloppy, still drunk and knocking into the table in the hall, sending a picture frame falling to the (thankfully carpeted) floor.

He pushed the door open to your bedroom, and seconds later you landed on your back on your soft mattress. Eddie’s eyes were completely glazed over with lust, locked on yours as he kicked his shoes off and started unbuckling his belt. You watched him with equal hunger as he undid his tight jeans and pushed them to the floor, his excitement obvious through the material of his boxers. He leaned over the bed and reached behind you to unzip your skirt, pulling it down your body and leaving you in your bra and panties.

You pushed the jacket off his shoulders and grabbed onto the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it. His body looked the way you remembered it, the familiar lines and curves coming back to you as you roamed your hands over his soft skin like second nature.

“Eddie,” you whined, pushing your hips up against his painfully hard erection. He hissed at the contact, his mouth trailing hot kisses down your neck and over your chest. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra, your nipples quickly pebbling in the cool air. His mouth moved to envelop one of your nipples, his hand attending to the other. He swirled his tongue around it, sucking on your tits as you arched beneath him.

It had been a while for you, honestly.

“Fuck, need you so bad,” he muttered. He sat up on his knees, eyes raking over your body for only a moment before he reached for the hem of your panties. He pulled them down your legs quickly, urgently pushing his boxers down. His hard cock sprang free, already leaking precum. He wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing, another hiss leaving his lips.

He grabbed the backs of your thighs again, spreading your legs and pushing them up towards your chest to take in the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him. He muttered another “Fuck,” under his breath.

He traced a finger through your folds, collecting your wetness on his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He moaned at the taste of you, just as sweet as he remembered.

He leaned back over your body, lining himself up at your entrance, not a single thought about protection going through either of your minds. He pushed in quickly, causing your back to arch and a gasp to fall from your lips, fingernails digging into Eddie’s shoulders as he stretched you intensely.

“Too big,” you managed to squeak out, which made Eddie chuckle against the skin of your neck.

“You can take it,” he assured you, starting up a slow pace, although it pained him to do so. “You always took it so well.”

It didn’t take long for your body to remember his. The pain faded into pure pleasure within the minute, and then you were moving your hips along with his thrusts. Eddie noticed and picked up the pace of his hips, giving up on being careful and fucking into you with reckless abandon.

High moans spilled from your lips, your eyes falling closed as the feeling of him enveloped you completely. You could think of nothing but the pleasure he was providing with every press of his cockhead against that bundle of nerves deep inside you. Even after all this time, he knew exactly how to fuck you.

Eddie’s own grunts and groans were unashamed as he rutted into you with no real rhythm, drunkenly chasing his own release inside you. Somehow through the drunk and lust filled haze, he had the thought to reach down and rub tight circles on your clit, building that tightening feeling in your belly faster and faster.

“G’na cum,” you whined, your pussy tightening around his cock enough to make him moan even louder as he started fucking you even faster.

“Yeah, princess, that’s it, cum on my cock, just like that,” he babbled encouragement, his own release approaching rapidly. “Fuck, yeah, all over my cock baby.”

Your orgasm crashed through you with the power of a fucking train, and your eyes rolled back, body trembling and pussy clenching around him over and over again as you chanted his name, sounding just like all his groupies at the concert.

That’s all Eddie needed to fall over the edge with a hissed “Shit, shit!” and a low groan against your neck as he spilled inside of you, filling you deeply with ropes of his cum.

Once you were both spent, Eddie pulled out of you, rolling off and collapsing on the bed next to you. You both caught your breath. You wondered if you should say something, but the pull of sleep in both of your drunken minds was too strong. It wasn’t long before you heard Eddie’s soft snores, before you were pulled under, too.

—

You were woken up by a pounding at your front door.

Still, your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light filtering through your bedroom windows through the pounding headache already plaguing you. Your heart stopped in your chest when you saw Eddie’s naked form still sleeping next to you.

Fuck, what did you do?

You jumped out of bed and pulled on a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants before walking into the living room before whoever was pounding on the door woke up your entire apartment complex.

You swung open the door, irritated, to find a panicked looking Steve standing there.

“Jesus Christ,” he said when you opened the door. “You just disappeared last night. I thought you got abducted or something.”

The guilt and emotions hit you as the full reality of what you’d done fell on your chest. “Steve…” you started, unsure how to even explain yourself.

“How did you even get home? You just went to the bar and-“ Steve stopped cold, wide eyes trained at something over your shoulder.

Despite the dread in your stomach, you slowly turned, seeing Eddie standing in the hallway behind you, looking sheepish and dressed back in his jeans with no shirt.

“Uh, hey,” he said, a hand running through his curls.

Steve slowly looked back at you. “What the fuck.”

You didn’t even know what to say as you looked between the boys. Eddie looked down at the picture frame on the floor that had been knocked down last night.

“Oh, shit,” he said, almost to himself. He leaned down and picked it up. “I, uh, might have knocked this over-“

He froze. And the second you realized what photo he was looking at, you did, too.

It was Asher. A recent portrait, The toddler sporting a huge gap-toothed grin, his big brown eyes and wild head of curls mirroring the man currently standing in your hallway.

Eddie stared at the photo, completely unmoving. You didn’t even think you were breathing at this point. You could feel Steve’s presence behind you, everyone frozen waiting for someone to make a move.

He finally looked up slowly, eyes meeting yours with questions swirling inside that you didn’t want to answer and he wasn’t sure he wanted the answers to.

Eddie said your name softly, fear lacing his voice. “What is this?”

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knowinglewis · 2 months ago

Text

Fading Lines

Part one/Part Two/Part Three/Part Four/Part Five/Final Part

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: The lines between friendship and something more start to blur between you and Lewis when he invites you to his first race weekend with Ferrari.

Word Count: 8,035

Warnings: Jealousy, anxiety, overthinking, angst, and some FLUFF. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Firstly thank you all SO much for the love on part one! We're back with part two and those lines are starting to blur EVEN MORE! It's looking like this will be a 4 part series, because this would easily be a 30k words or more fic if it was just the one part! Again, thank you for reading and really hope you enjoy it, please let me know your thoughts!

Race day came fast, sunlight flowing through edges of the hotel curtains far too early for your liking. Isabella was already bouncing around the room in her Ferrari merch, her red crop top, slick ponytail, and a pair of sunglasses that cost more than your rent.

"Are you ready to go?" she grinned, tossing you a pair of passes with your name printed in glossy bold letters. "We're going full VIP again, babe."

You caught the pass mid-air and pulled it over your head. The laminate captured the light like a trophy, shiny and in perfect condition, but it’s not what set your pulse racing. You felt your stomach flip with nerves and excitement, as well as something else you didn’t feel like you could name yet.

You told yourself it was the energy of the upcoming race, the roar of the engines, the crowds surrounding the track, but that wasn’t the full truth. The full truth was draped over your arm: a black Louis Vuitton jacket that still smelled faintly like a woody, expensive cologne.

Lewis hadn’t said anything when he placed it over your shoulders, just a look that said don’t argue. You were shivering and he had noticed.

You told yourself you’d give it back today. That was the plan. Until you stepped outside the car and were met with a cool breeze. Wasn’t Australia meant to be warm this time of year? The grey clouds coating the sky told you otherwise, and so you slid your arms into the jacket. It felt natural, familiar. A little like a secret. Though, you knew you had to return it soon.

By the time you had arrived at the paddock, the rumble of engines was already alive. The scent of rubber and fuel clung to the humid air, mingling with the heat from the track. Cameras flashed from every angle, with fans scrambling to get to their seats to see the drivers, ponchos and umbrellas in hand. The energy was electric all around as you made your way to the Ferrari suite.

The suite buzzed with excitement, the thrum of conversation and glasses clinking over the broadcast playing on several sleek monitors. You were once again surrounded by groups of wealthy people and PR reps who chatted among themselves as the race start approached.

Isabella tugged you through the crowd with ease, throwing smiles at anyone who looked your way. She was in her element, always charming, relaxed, already waving at someone you half-recognised from a fashion campaign you’d come across. You smiled along and pulled the jacket tighter around you, the soft luxury of the fabric was a strange comfort against the backdrop of noise and movement.

“Good afternoon ladies,” a warm voice greeted the two of you from your left.

You turned to see Anthony Hamilton stepping toward you, dressed in a crisp black suit with a relaxed air that felt earned. His smile reached his brown eyes as he extended a hand toward you both.

“Welcome back,” he said kindly, then looked at you with a small nod. “Lewis was looking for you earlier, but you just missed him.”

You felt your heart skip once again as it had many times that weekend, taking your breath away for a moment. You opened your mouth to respond as you quickly gathered your thoughts, but he was waved over by a Ferrari team member before you could speak.

“I’ll see you ladies soon,” he said before ducking towards the exit.

Then he was gone, quickly swallowed by a wave of team members and executives slipping past the security cordon.

You stood still for a beat, letting the noise settle around you. He was looking for you? You wondered to yourself for a moment if maybe he just wanted his jacket back, or if he wanted to check in after last night. It wasn’t until Isabella elbowed you gently with a teasing grin that you exhaled.

“Your man was looking for you, huh?” She wiggled her eyebrows, all too aware of how you felt about Lewis and the growing connection between you.

You returned her cheeky look with a roll of your eyes, shaking your head as she began preparing her camera and phone. The two of you made your way across the suite before heading outside again, while Isabella panned her camera across the paddock.

Near the sheltered tables outside stood Raye, along with Miles, Spinz, and Lewis’ stepmother, Linda. Raye waved you over once you’d gotten closer, clutching her red handbag below her red and white outfit.

“Hello, darling!” She greeted along with the rest of the crew, who gave you a mix of small waves and nods.

You greeted the group in return, taking a seat at the table along with the rest. You slipped into the chair beside Raye, shaking the drizzle of rain off your sleeves and tucking your feet beneath the table.

“How are you feeling? Any better?” Raye asked with genuine concern, leaning towards you with a gentle steadiness.

“Yeah, much better today, thank you,” you replied, offering a small smile despite the brief embarrassment that dusted across your cheeks. “I feel bad for leaving early like that though.”

“No, no. Don’t feel bad at all,” she said quickly, brushing it off with a flick of her hand. “The day was pretty intense, so I don’t blame you. Plus…” Her eyes dipped briefly to the jacket wrapped snugly around your shoulders before giving you a wink, her lips curling into a knowing smile. “You’re clearly being taken care of.”

Your mouth opened for a second, but nothing came out. Heat spread across your cheeks, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the nearby patio heaters or the direct hit of her teasing tone, as you glanced down instinctively at the sleek black fabric. The designer jacket that wasn’t yours but still felt oddly like it belonged on you.

“He let me borrow it last night,” you explained casually, suddenly self-conscious as you thumbed the hem at the bottom corner of the jacket on your lap. “I was going to return it.”

Raye hummed in amusement and approval. “Well, it looks great on you.”

You thanked her shyly, pursing your lips, unable to hold back the smile that threatened to tug at your mouth.

The conversation drifted then to talk of the weather, of who was doing press rounds early, and how chaotic the rain had made logistics. Linda offered a few gracious insights, and Spinz shared a behind-the-scenes story that made the whole table laugh. You laughed where appropriate, nodded along, but your mind kept floating, not heavy like yesterday, just…lighter.

The jealousy that had gripped you before, clawing under your ribs like something wild, had softened into something quieter. You weren’t sure if it had faded completely or if you’d just gotten better at tucking it away. Or maybe it was also Lewis’ jacket still draped over your shoulders. It gave you a strange sort of confidence, like a secret you were wearing in plain sight.

Either way, the knot in your chest had loosened, replaced with a calmer lightness and the anticipation of seeing him.

Another moment passed before you noticed the heads of all at the table turned to the suite, where you saw Lewis jog past the outdoor terrace toward the suite entrance, raincoat flaring slightly with each step.

His race boots thudded against the stone in a familiar rhythm as he escaped the light drizzle of rain, a focused, excited look on his face.

Then, just before disappearing inside, he glanced over his shoulder toward your table.

His hand lifted in a brief wave, casual but warm. His gaze skimmed across the group and you locked eyes for a fleeting second.

It wasn’t much, not definitive, but there was something in the way his eyes hesitated before he ducked into the suite, like a skipped heartbeat.

“Must’ve come from the press tent,” Miles added, glancing at the time on his phone. “It’s chaos over there.”

You tried to pull your focus back to the conversation, even as your thoughts lingered elsewhere. That was until Isabella checked her own phone.

“Time to go do our thing.” She nodded towards the paddock. “Let’s make ourselves useful before they lock down the grid.”

The paddock pulsed with energy, crew members rushing past with headsets and clipboards, journalists angling for last-minute quotes, and fans pressed against barricades for one final glimpse. Isabella weaved through the chaos like she’d done it a hundred times, camera strapped over one shoulder, phone in hand.

“Can you grab the monopod from my bag?” Isabella asked without missing a step.

You complied, reaching into the side pocket of her tote and handing it over smoothly as you both moved between the garages. When she paused to frame a quick shot of a team huddle, you instinctively stepped behind her, shielding her from a stray crew member passing too close.

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder with a grateful grin. “You’re the best.”

She captured clips of Charles chatting with a couple of Ferrari crew members, as well as Lando and Oscar preparing to get into their cars.

Pausing near the corridor of the Ferrari garage, Isabella typed out a caption for her story. You were adjusting your lanyard when you caught sight of him.

Lewis stood alone further down the corridor, slipping his airpods back into their case. He always had them in as he prepared for the race. A soft thrum of nerves rippled through you and you debated whether you wanted to risk disturbing this moment of quiet for him.

Before you could move backwards to stay out of his way, his eyes spotted you and a smile immediately graced his handsome face. He stepped forward and you moved towards him as well, meeting him halfway along the empty corridor.

“Hey.” He reached out for a light hug, his calm aura was a balm to your nerves. “Are you feeling better?”

You nodded, smoothing your hand over his muscled back as his hand rested at your shoulder blade. “Yeah. Much better, thank you. How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright.” Lewis let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, as he mirrored your nod in return. “I’m hoping the rain throws things in our favour, starting eighth isn’t exactly where I wanted to be.”

“You’ve got this.” You assured him, dropping your hand reluctantly back to your side and nudging your toe gently against the ground.

His gaze held yours for a breath longer, an unreadable look in his eyes, like he was on the verge of saying more. The air between you shifted, thick with a quiet, yet gentle tension. “Thank you,” he said finally, voice low. “It means a lot to have you here.”

You felt the warmth of his words settling somewhere beneath your ribs, and weren’t sure what to do with it yet, or how to respond. So you offered him a small, grateful smile, unsure if it said too much or not enough.

Then you remembered. Your fingers moved to the zip at your collarbone, breaking the tension. “Oh, your jacket,” you noted, tugging lightly at the edge of the jacket. “Sorry, I meant to give it back. Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

“No, it’s okay,” Lewis said gently, lifting his hand up towards yours. “Keep it.”

Your breath caught in your throat, pausing your removal at his unexpected response. “Are you sure?”

“It looks good on you,” he shrugged, like it’s just a fact. Not flirty, not calculated. Just the truth. “I want you to have it.”

You just looked at him, really looked, unsure how to respond. Gratitude was written behind your eyes, for his generosity, for the calm steadiness of his voice, for the comfort of the jacket still clinging to your frame.

However, before you could find the right words, a sudden swell of movement nearby drew both your attention. The flurry of team personnel, mechanics, and press marked the countdown to the race starting.

“Looks like it’s time,” you remarked, glancing toward the mounting chaos on either end of the corridor.

Lewis nodded, following your observation of the garage corridor. It was as though neither of you wanted to leave your bubble in that hallway, where only the two of you existed, but you knew it would soon be flooded with people again.

You hesitated for a split second, then found his warm brown eyes that focused on yours intently. “Good luck, Lewis” you murmured, your voice softer and assuring. “You’ve got this.”

The look he gave you then was soft, his defined lips curving with gratitude, like the words had meant more than you realised. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

Your heart swelled with admiration, not just for his talent or how he carried himself, but for the way he could be so utterly sincere in the middle of an insane schedule. For a moment, the noise of the paddock blurred into the background, and all you could feel was the warmth of his gaze and the unguarded way he looked at you.

There was a tenderness in it that caught you off guard. Your pulse fluttered, not from nerves this time, but from the slow, dawning realisation that you really were falling under his spell. Not because he was Lewis Hamilton, the name stitched on many caps and Ferrari shirts around you, or the handsome face plastered across billboards, but because in moments like this, he was just him. Charming without trying, genuine, kind, and more disarming than you were ready for. It was nearly impossible not to fall for him.

“I’ll see you after.” He gave you a final nod, before he turned and disappeared into the crowd, swallowed by the chaos of race day.

You stood for a moment longer, breathing in and out carefully, then headed off to find Isabella, your mind still reeling like you'd just walked out of a dream.

You found Isabella not long after, or rather, she had found you, dragging you by the wrist to the barrier in the Ferrari garage with a giddy, breathless energy that barely contained itself.

The sound of the engines roaring to life overpowered the focused engineers who spoke over their over headsets as screens flickered with timing data. The buzz in the air was palpable. Light rain still misted lightly over the track, making the asphalt glisten, making every moment feel sharpened at the edges.

You both held your own red headsets and shuffled around the barrier while the others flooded in, Raye and Miles taking an empty spot next to you along with Spinz.

“Okay,” Isabella breathed out, eyes wide as she leaned toward you, her camera slung precariously over one shoulder, “I know I said I came here for content, but I might be in love with a guy from the pit crew, and I think I’ve taken the internet with me.”

“Sorry, what?” You couldn’t help but laugh, tugging your new jacket tighter around your body when a breeze blew into the garage.

“Look at him.” She brought her phone screen into view, replaying the video she had posted.

You watched the man in question, tall, broad-shouldered, in his Ferrari shirt and gloved fingers which directed the team as they moved the car out. His dark hair was slightly windswept in the cool weather, sleeves rolled just enough to show off very defined forearms.

“Ooh, not bad.” You shared an impressed look with raised brows.

“Right? Look at those arms,” she said like it was obvious, before opening the comments and scrolling. “And apparently the internet agrees.”

You laughed again, reading some of the thirsty messages under the video. An air of adrenaline filled the room soon after as the time ticked down and the race began. You chatted briefly with Miles and Raye, making casual commentary on the grid positions, and jokingly offering a few predictions that didn’t pan out.

The wet conditions made the race even more thrilling and risky, with a few cars slipping and crashing into the barriers. For a couple of glorious laps, Lewis had made it up to P2, battling in the wet, looking fast and aggressive. Just the conditions he’d been hoping for to flip the race into his favour.

Hope sparked in your chest, heart racing as you watched his car eat up the track. You clutched Isabella’s hand tightly, both your eyes trained on the screens above. That was, until the McLarens quickly clawed their way back, and a pit stop pushed him down again.

You crossed your fingers, digging into your sleeves, wishing there was something you could do. Wishing you could send that fierce surge of belief you’d seen in him earlier right back through the screen, but it was clear that it was slipping away as you watched him struggle with the tyres and grip.

The final result: tenth.

Not what he’d wanted. Not what he’d deserved.

You didn’t see him right away afterward, he wasn’t among the crowd dispersing near the garage or standing with the team huddled in their post-race debrief. You scanned the blur of red uniforms, more out of habit than anything else, eyes drifting over the scene without really meaning to, waiting for a familiar stride, the flash of perfectly sectioned braids, anything that might settle the restlessness in your chest.

Then, Lewis passed through the garage, flanked by staff leading him toward the media area, helmet in hand and fireproofs tied around his waist. His braids were slightly damp, the markings of his helmet across his cheek, and jaw tight with exhaustion. Though the staff spoke low in his ear, clipboard in hand, he kept his calm demeanor, nodding along.

His eyes swept over the garage, and for the briefest second, they met yours.

You didn’t lift your hand, only offered a small smile, which he returned, but he didn’t break stride. He was gone within a short few seconds, already halfway into the press gauntlet.

You and Isabella lingered for a while after. She busied herself smugly rewatching her pit crew crush’s video and editing the next load of content she planned to post.

The energy in the space was changing, the high-pitched urgency of race day slowly winding down into a quiet pack up. Mechanics started rolling equipment back into storage, wiping down tools, checking over the cars. Engineers discussed data at a more subdued pace, the adrenaline fading into fatigue.

You waited just a little longer, but Lewis didn’t reappear. No glimpse, no stolen glance. He was somewhere inside, swallowed by debriefs, press duties, and the media machine that didn’t stop, even on bad days.

The garage and suites began to empty around you, the crowd thinning unti only essential personnel remained. A few stragglers from hospitality passed through, but it was clear things were wrapping up.

Then, movement at the far end of the corridor caught your eye. Lewis stood in his Ferrari shirt and loose pants, his cap covering the expression on his face. Beside him Raye stood close, one hand gesturing mid-story, the other brushing lightly against his arm. She laughed at something he said, to which he smiled softly, and it was the first time you’d seen his shoulders relax since before the race.

You didn’t move, your feet glued to the ground. You just watched as they lingered, speaking in low voices like there was no rush to be anywhere else. Then, they turned together, walking down the corridor and out of sight.

A sharp pinch tightened in your chest before you could stop it. Of course he was busy. Of course he had people to see, things to do. This was his world, after all. It was loud, fast, and always full of people who wanted his time. Still, the unwelcome sting of being forgotten, left behind, settled in anyway.

Your mind swirled with a million thoughts, mainly confusion, at the situation. Earlier, Raye had winked at you when she saw the jacket slung around your shoulders, teasing knowingly like she was in on a secret. Like she knew something, but now she was the one walking away with him. You didn’t want to admit it, but. the jacket began to feel heavier, like the weight of disappointment hanging from your body.

Maybe you had just misread everything. Again.

“Alright, I’m hungry.” Isabella’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as took her gear apart, tucking them into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder.

“Yeah, me too.” You nodded slowly, grabbing your own bag and checking your phone for the time, noticing the way your stomach grumbled.

The two of you made your way out of the paddock, leaving behind the hum of machinery and the distant sound of equipment being packed away into containers for shipping, echoing through the corridors. No words. No messages. Just the quiet ache of being forgotten, along with not being able to check on Lewis after a difficult race still trailing behind you in the cool evening air. He’d said he’d see you after, but you knew that in this life, sometimes even the best intentions got swept up in the chaos.

The hotel room glowed in a soft amber light, you sat on the floor with your suitcase open, half-packed with folded clothes and your tangled chargers. Isabella lounged across the bed in an old hoodie and bike shorts, one leg bent, and the other lazily kicking at the air as she swiped through her camera roll.

“I’m depressed,” she announced suddenly with a dramatic sigh. “We haven’t even left yet and I’m already dreading going back to work.”

“Yeah, back to reality, I guess,” you muttered with a small sigh of your own, folding the pair of socks you’d chucked out of your bag while getting ready that morning. “I’m really not looking forward to it.”

“Tell me about it. I feel like we barely got to see much of Melbourne, I was really hoping to go to a beach or two,” Isabella groaned, flopping onto her front.

You rose to your feet, walking across to the bed to pack away your hair tools. Your phone had been sitting on your bedside table charging away, when the vibration caught your attention.

“Maybe we should just call in sick and spend a couple of extra days here,” Isabella mused, watching you pick up your phone.

“Should we?” You considered her idea, shooting her a mischievous look before your eyes fell onto the notification on your screen.

It was Lewis.

‘Hey, have you had dinner yet?’

It was such a simple question, but it still caught you off guard. Not did you eat, but have you had dinner yet, a present tense. Like maybe he’d meant to join you. Maybe he had planned to, or at least thought about it, before everything got swept up in the race.

You bit your lip, warmth blooming across your cheeks as you typed slowly:

‘Yeah I had some with Issy earlier. How about you?’

It only took a moment for the reply to come through, your phone buzzing in your hands.

‘Keen for dessert?’

The corner of your mouth lifted involuntarily as you read his reply. A part of you still felt the sting from earlier, from that moment in the corridor. And yet here he was. Reaching out. Your fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, the flutter in your stomach growing. Would it just be the two of you? Would the whole group be there? Surely he would tell you, or ask you to bring Isabella too if it was a group thing.

From the bed, Isabella didn’t miss a thing, catching the smile on your lips and the flush of your cheeks as the cogs turned in your mind.

“Lewis?” She grinned, sitting up to look nosily over your shoulder. “What’d he say?”

You turned your phone to show her the text, suddenly feeling shy as she read the messages.

“Oh my- you have to go,” she gasped, clutching your hand and shoving your phone towards you in excitement.

You paused for a second, not wanting to get ahead of yourself, but you couldn’t help the panic in your voice. “Do you think it’s like a group thing though? Maybe he’s already with the others, right? Probably with Raye…or…ugh I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever been alone with him like that before.”

“Okay firstly, if it was a group thing, he definitely would have mentioned it or put it in a group chat. He only texted you,” she reassured you, placing a hand on your forearm in support. “And second, why not just take a chance? You never know what will come from this!”

Isabella was the voice of reason you needed in that moment, your heart thudding louder as you glanced back at your phone. Maybe this would be the chance to clear things up properly. Your thumbs hung over the keyboard on the screen, your mind drawing a complete blank on your response. Would a simple ‘yes’ or ‘sure’ be too blunt? You didn’t want to come off too eager and put him off, but you didn’t want to make yourself sound uninterested either.

“Here.” Isabella reached over, sensing your hesitation and quickly typed a message for you. “Just send this. It’s cute and flirty, but you’re keeping it subtle.”

Before you could overthink it, you pressed the send button, letting out a breath you’d been holding in.

‘I could be convinced’

The two of you waited eagerly as the three blinking dots popped up in a bubble beneath your message. He didn’t type for long before his reply flashed onto your screen with another buzz.

‘Good. Come down, I’ll get the car brought around.’

Immediately, you turned to face Isabella, who already had her jaw on the floor in elation. She squealed excitedly, bouncing off the bed and shaking your arm.

“Go, now!” She began to push you towards the door while you were still collecting yourself.

“Okay, okay!” You moved out of her grip, giving yourself a once over in the mirror and smoothing your hair down.

You hadn’t changed out of your outfit from the day since you’d gotten so caught up with packing as soon as you’d gotten home, but you still looked well put together for a last minute dessert run. With a quick touch up and spritz of your perfume, you slipped his sleek jacket back on along with your shoes.

You took a deep breath, turning to face Isabella one last time before you head out the door.

“You look beautiful girl. Have fuuuun!” she sang, sending you a wink and wave as you disappeared into the hallway.

You made your way down towards the elevator, and jabbed the button for the lobby. The elevator doors slid closed with a soft sigh, and the quiet hum of descent only made the nerves in your stomach grow. It was a long ride down, giving you a momentary pause while you attempted to calm yourself.

It was just dessert. Just a friendly catch-up after a long day. However, your pulse didn’t seem to get the memo.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirrored wall, making some final adjustments to your look. Luckily, you had managed to avoid getting drenched in the rain that day, so your hair remained intact. The anticipation tugged at your chest, as the elevator slowed, and you swallowed once, steadying yourself before the doors slid open.

The hotel lobby was quiet this late, the marble floors echoing with the faint tap of your steps as you walked through towards the entrance. You spotted him instantly.

Lewis stood near the doors, adjusting one of his rings, looking freshly showered and re-energised. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and a warm smile spread across his face. The way his eyes sparkled at you made your knees weak.

“Hi,” he greeted, voice low and easy as he gave you a light hug.

“Hi,” you returned his smile, stepping back when he let you go.

A hotel staff member stepped up, holding out a pair of keys. Lewis took them with a quiet “cheers,” nodding in thanks before glancing back at you.

“This way,” he gestured towards the door, his smile widening just slightly.

You followed him through the front doors, that slid open for you, the air cool on your skin. A sleek black car waited just outside under the awning, headlights blinking as he unlocked it. The hotel staff moved to open the car doors for you, but he walked ahead and thanked them as the doors lifted open on their own.

Following his lead, you slid into your seat in the sleek car, which was already warm in the cold night. The doors closed with a thud and the engine purred to life. You pulled your seatbelt across your lap while Lewis rolled the car smoothly out into the night. You peered over at him as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other relaxed over the gear shift. He looked at ease for the first time all weekend, his shoulders loosened and his sharp jaw no longer clenched with tension.

“So,” he started, cutting a quick look in your direction with a small, knowing smirk, “How about some ice cream?”

You blinked. “Ice cream? It’s a bit cold tonight, isn’t it?”

“That’s the point,” he laughed, eyes back on the road. “Best time to eat it. Something about it just makes it taste even better.”

“That sounds…a little insane,” you said, deadpan, which made him laugh again. A genuine, light sound that pulled a grin out of you before you could stop it.

“Trust me. I know a really good place that’s not too far,” he assured you, tapping the address into the screen in the middle to start the navigation.

“Alright, I trust you.” You rested back in your seat, letting your eyes trail out to the city around you.

The city lights of Melbourne flickered against the windows like soft confetti, and you could see crowds of people wandering the streets in groups still, enjoying their weekend before the reality of Monday set back in. The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only settles between people who’ve already spent a lot of time in each other’s orbit.

You noticed a soft track playing low on the radio, a velvety voice layered with subtle beats that pulsed through the speakers. The song was unfamiliar, but you read the track name, ‘Weightless’ sitting on the bottom of the screen. There was no name for an artist beneath it and no photo on the side to give you an indication of where this song had come from.

Then, it finally clicked. You tilted your head slightly, catching a glimpse of Lewis in the dim lights, “Is this yours?”

His lips pursed, trying not to look smug as he gave a modest shrug. He was somehow even more handsome in the dim light when he wasn’t trying.

“Lewis, you sound amazing,” you breathed with an encouraging tone, unable to take your eyes off his cute expression.

“It’s just something I was messing around with,” he chuckled, shooting a quick look your way before returning to the road. “I haven’t really played it for anyone yet.”

You moved your gaze out the window quickly, heart stuttering just enough to make you feel like a teenager again with a crush at school. “I’m very lucky then.”

His reply came in the form of another quiet, breathy laugh, the kind that slipped out before he could stop it. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the beat, still playing softly through the car speakers. Your smile remained, as his melodic voice filled the silence between you.

A few minutes later, warm pale light spilled from a small gelateria tucked into the corner of a quiet street. He pulled into a spot out front and switched the engine off, the music fading into silence. You looked up at the shopfront, the name lit up in red across the sign, humming faintly behind the glass.

You exited the car at the same time as the doors lifted open, and walked side by side towards the shop. He moved ahead to hold the door open as a couple walked out, thanking him quickly, before the way cleared for you to walk through.

“After you.” Lewis motioned towards the inside of the shop, allowing you to enter and following behind you into the chilly space.

The inside of the shop smelled faintly of vanilla and citrus, warm and inviting even under the fluorescent lights. The tiles were a little worn, patterned in alternating a pastel green and white, just like something out of an old postcard. Along the back wall, a massive blackboard stretched almost the length of the room, plastered full of scoop flavours, including the classics of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry, along with pistachio, burnt fig, and a few odd ones near the bottom like vanilla miso and olive oil lemon.

A curved glass freezer stood just below it, proudly displaying colourful rows of gelato in soft peaks, as if they’d been freshly smoothed only minutes ago. The creamy chocolate sat beside an earthy-looking brown swirl named Chestnut Espresso, and one Lewis pointed to immediately, labelled Strawberry Basil (vegan).

Behind the counter, an older man with thick glasses and a striped shirt glanced up as you both perused the selection. He gave a polite nod of welcome, his eyes lingering on Lewis for just a second too long. It wasn’t out of rudeness, but in the way when someone tries to figure out if they know you from somewhere. His brow furrowed slightly, the beginnings of recognition stirring, but he said nothing.

Lewis leaned casually against the counter as you continued to scan the flavours, the cool air from the freezer brushing your skin as the man behind the counter lifted the lid to scoop the Strawberry Basil ice cream into a cup for him.

“Interesting choice,” you remarked, raising an eyebrow at the green swirl through the shiny pink cream.

“Hey, I’ve heard good things. Gotta try something new,” Lewis frowned playfully, before asking for a scoop of lemon sorbet as well.

“You’re braver than I am,” you laughed in return, settling for a safe option with raspberry white chocolate flavour and a scoop of mango sorbet.

The man behind the counter loaded your cups with ease and handed them over as Lewis tapped his payment, along with a generous tip. His eyes widened as he noticed this on the receipt, likely confirming his suspicion on Lewis’ identity and he thanked him while handing over two wooden spoons.

“Thank you very much, have a good night.” Lewis gave the man a knowing smile, before pressing a finger to his lips in a silent shh with a quick wink.

He handed over your cup as you thanked the man too, and slipped out of the shop. The two of you entered the car, placing your gelato in the cup holders.

Lewis tapped on the screen of the car as it came to life, scrolling over the map and pointing at a nearby lake. “I’ll just drive around, I think over there should give us a nice view.”

“Perfect,” you agreed, sitting back in your seat while the car reversed out of the parking spot.

It only took a couple of minutes, and a gasp left your lips the moment you caught sight of the view from the lake. The water stretched out calmly ahead like liquid glass, the lights from the buildings glittering across the gentle ripples. Melbourne’s skyline looked like something out of a postcard, with sharp high rise buildings and different coloured lights painted in the horizon. The area was quiet once Lewis parked up and switched off the engine, except for the occasional chirp of cicadas or the rustle of a breeze slipping through the nearby trees.

“Wow. This is stunning,” you whispered, undoing your seatbelt and leaning forward to drink in the scenery.

“Really is.” Lewis nodded in agreement, picking up your gelato cup and holding it towards you.

The interior of the car felt warm and safe, lit softly by the streetlamp nearby. You both turned a little more toward each other, setting a napkin on your thighs and dipping your wooden spoons into your gelato. You started with the raspberry white chocolate, which was sweet and heavenly on your tongue, while Lewis scooped a small spoon of his strawberry basil flavour.

“How is it?” You asked, noticing the look on his face as the gelato melted in his mouth.

“It’s not bad actually.” He savoured the taste for a moment, before spooning another bite and bringing it to your lips. “Here, try some.”

You hesitated at first, raising an eyebrow in his direction, but chose to trust him and let him feed you. He watched you in anticipation as it melted on your tongue.

“Okay,” you nodded, identifying the flavour. “It’s definitely not bad, but it tastes like eating strawberries with the leaves.”

“You know what? That’s pretty accurate,” he laughed, going in for another spoon.

“Try this.” You dipped your spoon in the mango sorbet and lifted it to his mouth once he’d finished with his bite. “You can never go wrong with mango.”

The well kept scruff on his chin brushed against your finger as he leaned in to taste the sorbet off your spoon, humming in agreement. The soft light from the street lamp spilled into the car, catching on the edges of his long eyelashes, the curve of his cheekbones and the stud in his nose.

There was something about the calm in his expression that made your heart ache just a little, like you were witnessing a part of him few people got to see.

Your gaze lingered on the shape of his mouth, the faintest trace of a smile still tugging at the corner of it as he continued to eat his sweet treat. His braids were tied back, remaining perfectly intact despite his helmet earlier in the day, and for a second, the quiet admiration caught you completely off guard.

God, he was beautiful. In every way possible.

You chewed on your lower lip, feeling the flutter in your chest again, and quickly looked back down at your gelato like it might offer some kind of emotional cover, but the feeling didn’t go away.

You really liked him.

However, you had to get yourself out of this train of thought as soon as possible, when you caught a glimpse of Lewis licking a drop of melted gelato from his finger, making your heart race instantly.

You needed to say something. Anything.

You cleared your throat softly. “How are you feeling? After the race, I mean.”

He glanced over as he wiped his fingers with his napkin, as though he hadn’t expected the question. With a deep breath, he relaxed into his seat and stared out the window at the skyline.

“Disappointed, honestly,” he admitted, the honesty in his voice catching you slightly off guard. “It’s the first race, but I hoped to get more out of it. I’m still learning the car though. New team, new engine, it’s a lot to figure out. I won’t put it all on one race though, this is just the beginning.”

“That makes sense,” you murmured gently, following his line of sight out towards the horizon. “I believe in you though, it’s going to take some time, but I know you’ll get it.”

“I really appreciate that,” he replied, sincerity laced in his voice.

There was a pause, a softness in the air as you relished each other’s company silently.

Then he turned to face you. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to spend more time with you today. I wanted to, but after everything, it just… got hectic.”

You gave him a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s okay. I know how this life is,” you shrugged before continuing. “I could see how busy it got for you.”

Placing your gelato back in the cup holder, you turned your body towards him, running your fingers along the leather of your seat. You knew what you wanted to say, but you found yourself struggling to get the words out, doubting if you should even bring it up at all. You also knew Lewis, and how important communication is to him.

“I just-” you hesitated, your voice quieter now, taking a breath before you continued. “I saw you talking to Raye. After the race.”

He watched you with understanding. “Yeah.”

You didn’t want to sound jealous. You weren’t even sure you had the right to. “I was hoping to see you and check on you after the race, but I just…noticed. It looked like you left together.”

“Yeah,” he spoke after a short moment, like he understood what you were hinting at. “We were working on some music. She wanted to run through a few things before flying out. I figured it’d be quieter back at the hotel.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you two were working together.” You suddenly felt heat build up your neck, slightly embarrassed of your assumption.

“Yeah, just a couple of tracks,” he explained. “She’s been helping me experiment with new ideas.”

You nodded slowly, the night air feeling thicker somehow. His words didn’t bring you much relief, the weight of your unspoken words heavy on your tongue.

“I get that these weekends are hectic and crazy,” you began again quietly, struggling to meet his eyes. “I really do. You’re being pulled everywhere, and I don’t expect you to be there with me every second, I just…” You hesitated again. “I guess I hoped we’d get a little more time. We haven’t seen each other in months.”

Lewis didn’t respond right away, but he kept his gaze on you with that steady intensity of his.

“Maybe that’s selfish,” you added with a weak laugh. “I don’t know.”

“It’s not selfish,” he assured you, his voice soft yet certain. “I feel the same, and I’m sorry. I should’ve made more time for you.”

You met his eyes, the tension in the car breaking into something warmer at the reassurance from him.

“I actually wanted to ask you…I know it’s a long shot, but do you have any plans next weekend?” He asked with what seemed to be an offer lingering on his tongue.

You shook your head as you recalled the reality you would be returning to tomorrow. “Not at the moment.”

“Good. Let me make it up to you.” His eyebrows relaxed, angling himself towards you. “Come to the next race in China with me.”

You didn’t answer right away. The idea of hopping on a plane to China so soon after Australia sounded wild… but maybe exactly what you needed. Then, the memory of earlier flashed into your mind, of standing there in the chaos while he disappeared down the corridor with someone else, eating away quietly at your confidence.

“Lewis, I don’t know. It’s not that easy, you know? Flights, time off work…” You sighed, considering all the logistics.

“I know, it’s a lot,” he began earnestly. “But I’ll take care of everything, you know that. I want more time with you, just us.”

You pressed your lips together as you considered his offer. Just the two of you? It was very likely you could end up in the same situation you had earlier today, but this time, it seemed as though he really did just want only you there. You weighed out the consequences with your job and reality back home, but surely you could make it work.

“Okay,” you breathed, making your decision. “Let me see what I can move around.”

Lewis beamed at you warmly, and you didn’t even need to look directly at him to feel it, it was like heat from a flame that had never gone out.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggled in response.

Soon after, you were on your way back to the hotel when his phone buzzed with a reminder of your early morning flights. The city lights flickered across the windshield as you moved through Melbourne’s sleeping streets, the hum of the engine in the background.

You stole a glance at Lewis every now and then, his hand resting loosely on the wheel, the other tucked near his mouth, rubbing his facial hair in thought.

When the hotel came into view, your heart sank a little. It felt almost irrational, but you weren’t ready for the night to end. Lewis pulled into the driveway, the car gliding to a soft stop. Neither of you moved.

“Thank you for tonight,” your voice was just above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the peaceful energy in the car.

He turned toward you slightly, his gaze lingering like it didn’t want to let go. “Thank you for coming.”

Your lips curved up in return, but still neither of you moved to open the door. It was like a thread held tightly in between you, not enough to break, not enough to pull you closer. The tension stirred in your stomach, as though the night would immediately end once you touched the door.

Then, suddenly, he moved, sliding out of the driver’s side and handing the keys to the valet, muttering a quick thank you. However, instead of heading for the doors, he circled around the front of the car, coming to your side.

The door raised open as you picked up your bag, turning to step out where you found Lewis standing with a hand held out for you.

A subtle gasp left your lips, a little surprised at his gesture. There was no grin this time, no flirty sparkle in his eye, just his calm intention.

You slipped your hand into his, supporting you as you lifted yourself out. His hand was warm and gentle, like he wasn’t ready to let go either. You silently hoped that he didn’t sense your racing heart and that your palms wouldn’t sweat in his.

Hand in hand, you walked together through the quiet hotel lobby, the soft carpet muffling the sound of your footsteps. The warmth inside contrasted with the crisp night air outside, but was the warmth between you that set your skin ablaze, electric.

You stepped into the elevator as the doors slid open, the space between you slowly shrinking. He pressed the button to your floor, then to his, and you felt the ground move beneath you.

Lewis used the soft grip on your hand to tug you close, your arms finding their way up, wrapping gently around the back of his neck and pulling him nearer.

His breath was warm against your cheek as his arms twined around your waist. You closed your eyes for just a second, savoring the closeness, the feeling of his strong chest and the scent of his cologne on his neck. Home.

The elevator hummed around you both, a small, suspended moment in time.

With a small ding of the bell, the doors opened again, and it felt like stepping back into reality, but something had shifted.

“Save travels tomorrow,” he whispers, his voice low and warm as you release each other from your embrace.

“You too. I’ll see you next week?” You slid your hand down from his neck, where he captured it in his hold again.

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, letting your fingers slip through his as his eyes followed your step back. “Next week. Can’t wait.”

“Goodnight, Lewis.” You moved towards the door, slowly turning towards the corridor as you made your way out.

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice almost a whisper as he finished with your name.

The doors slid closed, leaving you with your head spinning as though you’d just been on a perfect first date. But it wasn’t a date.

Was it?

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 x you #ferrari #lewis x you #lewis hamilton x you #lh44 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 imagine #f1 #fading lines

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littlegrapejuice · 2 months ago

Text

Love Story | OB87

Pairing: Ollie Bearman x Reader

Summary: Although secret, your relationship with Ollie is meaningful. And not even a protective dad can put an end to it.

Author's Note: my first time writing for ollie!! He's fr such a pookie and I'm so happy to have had inspo for him🤭 this is obv a taytay ref, based off that one recent interview in which ollie said he loves love story hehe

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

You were both young when you first saw Oliver Bearman.

Closing your eyes, the flashback started.

It was not really an unusual meeting, more so amusing to you.

As Fred Vasseur’s daughter, it was not surprising to see you in the paddock during a race weekend. You had been accompanying your father since you were a kid, as he went from managing one team to another. Your current home in Formula 1 was Ferrari since your father became its team principal, and you couldn’t dream of being anywhere else. Red looked good on you, and you were always proudly wearing the team’s merch for every race.

It often led to you being mistaken as an actual employee, which did happen when you first met Ollie.

You had obviously heard of him as he was part of the Ferrari Academy, but you had never talked to him until the 2024 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. Ollie, who had been competing in Formula 2 during the same weekend, had been called in at the last minute to replace Carlos. Reserve driver duties came first, and so he ended up racing for Ferrari rather than Prema.

Your first conversation with Ollie happened after qualifying. You had been in Ferrari’s garage talking with Charles, when Ollie made his way through the crowd of engineers towards the two of you.

“Hello”, he said.

“Hey, Ollie. Congrats on P11,” Charles told him. “That’s good for a first qualifying session!”

“Thanks! Congrats are more in order for you, though. You got P2!” Ollie reminded him with a smile, excited for the other Ferrari to start on the front row.

“Yeah, the margins weren’t close enough. But we’ll do what we can.”

You had stayed silent during the exchange, until you met Ollie’s eyes. You gave him a soft smile, and introduced yourself:

“Nice to meet you!” You offered him your hand, which he shook., before putting your hand on his shoulder and letting it linger there longer than it should have. “Congrats for making it to F1!” Your praise made him blush a little, which made you find him even cuter than you already thought he was.

“Thank you!” His smile was blinding, as if he had been blessed by the sun itself. “Are you one of Ferrari’s engineers?” He genuinely wondered. He thought you were pretty, and he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time he would see you.

“Oh no, I don’t work here!” You told him.

“Might as well do with how long you’ve been hanging around here”, Charles pointed out with a chuckle. “The team kit is kinda misleading.”

“Sorry for supporting my father’s team! You should be glad to have me here,” you said with a scoff.

“Your father?” Ollie asked.

You were about to confirm your identity, but someone else did it for you.

“Ah, Ollie! I see you’ve met my daughter!” None other than Fred Vasseur had come up to the three of you, before he clasped a hand on the Brit’s shoulder.

“Yeah… like two minutes ago”, Ollie replied. He was unsure how to react, now that he knew you were his boss’s daughter.

“It’ll be nice for you, Ollie. She’s the only one close to your age around here,” Charles explained. “You should get along well.”

“Not too well, I hope.” Fred was laughing, his French accent prominent, but his tone was still made to act as a warning to Ollie.

You weren’t even surprised by your father’s words. If there was one thing he always made sure of: you wouldn’t date a driver.

“We’ve just met”, you emphasised with a sigh. “We’re not eloping.”

“You better not.”

While Charles was smirking at the exchange – he knew your father had made you off-limits to anyone on the grid who was relatively close to you in age, Ollie was petrified. The young driver was now scared to even try to befriend you, not wanting to end his already short racing career in Formula 1.

And when your father asked Charles to take you somewhere else in the paddock, Ollie was already accepting his fate. He was expecting to be scolded for ever laying eyes on you, and even imagined Fred ordering Charles to run him off track tomorrow.

“I really like you, Ollie. But you stay away from her if you can’t be just friends with her.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie tried to maintain a neutral face, as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“You’re a nice guy,” Fred concluded with a smile. “She’s everything to me, and I’m glad if she can get more friends around here. But no dating.”

“Yes, sir.” Ollie could repeat himself, too nervous to say anything else. “Just friends.”

“Good, I knew you would understand.” Fred smiled, now abandoning his father persona and turning back to being the cheerful team principal who everyone loved. “You can go join her wherever they went, and have a friendly hangout.”

Ollie gulped, and nodded. He followed the direction in which you and Charles had left, quickly finding your voices outside of Ferrari hospitality.

“Can't you talk to him?” You pleaded. “My dad loves you, you can vouch for Ollie.”

“He does like Ollie, you know. It’s not targeted towards him,” Charles claimed. “He’ll do that to any guy approaching you, however well-intentioned they are.”

“But what if I want to date that guy?” You argued, pouting. “I swear he treats me like a kid.”

“Well, you are his kid. And be glad he doesn’t prevent you from having friends as well.”

“That’d be insane.” You sighed, not liking the situation. “I’m perfectly capable of choosing my relationships, friends or not.”

Charles gave you an apologetic smile, before ruffling your hair. Wanting to lift your spirits, he decided to joke:

“If you’re really determined to try it out with Ollie, just hide it.” He shrugged, showing that he wasn’t serious. “I’d keep your secret.”

“That’s not dumb”, you said with a pensive smile.

Charles thought that your smile meant you weren’t upset anymore with your dad. But actually, it meant that you were scheming.

When the conversation died down, Ollie realised that he had just stood there for the entirety of it and therefore showed himself.

“Ollie!” You grinned at him, ready to put your plan into action. “Sorry for whatever my dad might’ve said to you.”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but Ollie didn’t want to badmouth your own dad in front of you.

“I guess we can still be friends?” You asked him, hope filling your eyes. When Ollie nodded, the smile on your face widened. “Are you free right now? We can hang out wherever!”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

Glad that you were still able to become friends, Charles softly smiled at the sight of you and Ollie. He notified you that he’d leave you two, and wished you a good night. You waved at Charles, before taking Ollie’s hand and dragging him towards the paddock exit.

As you left the track together, conversation naturally flowed between you and Ollie. He told you about his current career in F2, and how thankful he was to have a chance in F1. He asked you about your life, wondering about how it was to grow up in paddocks and garages.

And despite having different experiences, it was easy for the two of you to relate to one another. You were both part of the racing world, surrounded by cars and the sound of their engines since your childhood.

In the span of only one evening, a deep bond had been created between you and Ollie. You told him things you had never told anyone before, surprised at how easy it was to share your life with him. He made you comfortable, made you laugh, made you happy.

So when you had to part ways as it was becoming late, Ollie internally cursed your father for not giving him a chance. But if strictly being friends meant that he could keep hanging out with you, then Ollie would repress any initial attraction he had felt when meeting you earlier.

Which proved to be hard, when you kissed his cheek before bidding him goodbye.

And it got even harder, when he ended up P7 in the race on the next day.

You had obviously celebrated Charles’s podium at the track. But in the quiet of the paddock after the post-race clammer got quieter, you had found Ollie and offered to celebrate his debut points.

Just the two of you.

“We’re friends now”, you had claimed. “Friends celebrate each other’s achievements.”

And he had agreed with your statement. Until your hangout in the streets of Jeddah didn’t feel so friendly anymore when your hand brushed against his. Once. Twice. Until he was the one to cave in and take your hand in his, a nervous smile on his face. His face was redder than your Ferrari polo shirt. But under the lights, the blush on Ollie’s cheeks just made him even more beautiful to your eyes.

You didn’t kiss that night. Didn’t acknowledge that it had eventually become a date as hours passed. But the feelings were definitely there, and it was just the start of a love story between the two of you.

…..

Opening your eyes, you took in your surroundings. You were laying in bed – Ollie’s bed, in his hotel room that you had crashed the previous night. The curtains were slightly open, and you could see the faint light coming from the Saudi Arabian sun.

You were back in Jeddah, a year later.

A lot had happened in a year: you had started dating Ollie – your father was obviously not aware of it. You and Ollie were still ‘friends’ to him, albeit very close friends. So to hide it the best you can, you ‘hired’ some people.

It would’ve been suspicious if all of a sudden you were going to F2 races just to see Ollie. So you became friends with his friends, and you didn’t hesitate to share the news with your dad. You were quite surprised at how he never noticed, but you figured that the group pictures always showing you and Ollie being far from each other were enough of a distraction.

And when Ollie eventually raced twice for Haas at the end of the season, it wasn’t suspicious of you to visit him in his garage. Your support for him was quite public, but always just the right amount of friendliness to not bring attention to it.

So a year later, you were still getting away with dating Ollie in secret. And it had become even easier to hide it now that he was in F1, as you could share flights and hotels – Kimi, Gabriel, and Isack never too far away just in case.

It was meaningful for you to be back there, where it all started.

You couldn’t be prouder of your boyfriend, and your support was everything to him. Support that you showed him after every session of the weekend.

“Ollie, take me somewhere we can be alone. I’ll be waiting.”

This was something that often occurred between you two. It was one thing to only be friendly in public, but you still needed to spend romantic time with him. So it wasn’t unusual for you to sneak into Ollie's driver room to see him, keeping quiet because you would be dead if anyone knew.

“Close your eyes,” you would tell Ollie while laying in his arms. “Escape the paddock for a little while, just rest.”

You would then simply stay together like that, cuddling for what felt like hours until Ollie’s engineer would call for him and you would have to go back to Ferrari as if nothing had ever happened. You would share a quick but loving kiss before Ollie checked the surroundings and gave you the green light to leave his garage.

You didn’t know how much longer you could actually keep it a secret, but you stopped thinking about it when you saw Ollie enter his room after he had showered. Everything else didn’t matter anymore every time you laid your eyes on him.

Straightening against the bedhead, you softly smiled as Ollie finished getting dressed. You observed his face, the expression he harboured, his curls, his eyes. You could only admire him.

Sensing your gaze on him, Ollie looked at you. He tilted his head in confusion, silently asking you if you needed anything.

“Everything alright?”

“Everything’s perfect,” you replied.

“Do I have something on my face?” He wondered as he went to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re just pretty.”

Ollie should be used to that, used to your compliments. But even after a year, he still wasn’t. He still blushed like he did when he first saw you, a smile – one of his that you loved so much – slowly making its way on his face.

Chuckling at his reaction, you crawled towards him before you kissed him on the cheek and stood up.

“I’ll get ready and then we can go to the track, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ollie nodded, checking the time. “We’re meeting Kimi in twenty minutes,” he reminded you.

“Okay.”

As usual since the season had started, you would ask one of the rookies to arrive at the track with you and Ollie to not raise suspicions. Even if you were entering the paddock separately, people would always be watching what happened before and you would rather be safe than sorry.

…..

The race would be starting soon, and you debated making a quick trip to Haas to go wish Ollie luck. He was starting P15, and you knew he needed all the support he could get even though you wouldn’t be in his garage.

However, you got caught as you were about to leave Ferrari:

“Are you going to see your boyfriend?”

“Oh, Dad… hey!” You didn’t think that he would notice you, as he was usually on the grid by then. Suddenly nervous, you began stuttering. “M– my what?”

“Your boyfriend”, your father repeated. “I’m not stupid, I noticed that you’ve been sneaking around the paddock since the season began. Is it a driver?” He asked. “One of the rookies?”

“You know I wouldn’t date a driver”, you argued.

“And yet, I know you are.”

“What?”

“I wish you would’ve told me the truth yourself, but I’m not blind. So just tell me who he is.” Fred’s tone was stern, but there was a hint of worry in his voice as he was unsure whether you would trust him with the information.

“It’s… Ollie?” You admitted, waiting for his reaction.

“I don’t like that”, he simply said. “I want you to call it off.”

“You can’t ask me that!” You slightly raised your voice, appalled at what your father was asking of you. “I thought you liked Ollie!”

“As a friend for you, not some boyfriend who will break your heart. And when he does, you’ll still be in the same paddock. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he told you.

“He won’t hurt me”, you retorted. Your dad was about to speak again, but you interrupted him. “You can’t tell me to end things with him, I won’t.”

And with that, you left the Ferrari garage to go see Ollie. He immediately noticed something was wrong when you walked up to him with a frown on your face. He didn’t hesitate to hug you, resting his head on top of yours as he rubbed your back.

“Are you okay?” He asked you after a couple minutes.

“He knows…”

“Oh… I guess it didn’t go well?”

“Bingo,” you sarcastically confirmed. Taking a step back, you removed yourself from the warmth of Ollie’s arms around you and ran your fingers through your hair with a sigh. “He just said he didn’t approve, that you’ll hurt me, shit like that…”

“Because I’m a driver?”

“Amongst other things, but yes mostly. He’s tryna tell me how to feel, and said we should end things before it’s too late.”

“Will you?” Ollie knew you wouldn’t, but he still needed to make sure of it.

“Of course not! It might be difficult from now on, but our love is real and I wouldn’t trade it for anything else.”

“Okay, well… I kinda don’t like that your father is mad at you, but we’ll be fine. I hope”, Ollie tried to reassure you.

“Hope so too,” you mumbled. “Guess we just gotta make it out of this mess”, you added with a shrug. “But anyways, I originally came to wish you luck.”

“I’m starting P15, ain’t much I can’t do from here. But thanks, I really appreciate your support.” He took your hand in his, his thumb slowly starting to stroke your skin. “Do you want to watch the race here?”

“Honestly, I think it’s best I go back to Ferrari. I’m mad at my dad, but I still wanna be there for the team.”

“No problem.” Ollie liked your loyalty to your father’s team, knowing that you were also loyal to him at the same time. “I’ll see you after the race, yeah?”

“Yeah, come save me. I’ll probably be feeling alone if we get a podium and everyone’s out there celebrating Charles.”

“It’d be nice for him. He’s starting P4 so he’s got good chances”, Ollie pointed out. He then used his free hand to cup your cheek, before leaning down to kiss your lips. “I’ll come get you when I’m done with the media.”

“I’ll be waiting”, you told him with a soft smile – the one usually reserved for him.

Ollie stole one last kiss from you as ‘good luck’ before he reluctantly let go of you and turned back to make his way to the grid. You watched him go, and eventually went back to Ferrari. You hoped that your father had left the garage already, meaning that you wouldn’t have to face him until after the race. Fortunately for you, he was already sitting at the pit wall and you were peacefully able to grab your headphones before the formation lap was about to begin.

…..

As expected, Charles had managed to get the first Ferrari podium of the season. You knew this would be good for the team’s morale, and you were more than happy for the Monegasque.

Ollie had gained two positions during the race, putting him in P13 at the end. You knew he wouldn’t see it until he was done with his media duties, but you texted him anyway.

Well done ollie<3 you did your best and i’m proud of you

I’m hiding in charles room to avoid my dad

Text me when you’re there, ily

You figured that you had an hour to waste while waiting for your boyfriend to come get you, so you just got comfortable on Charles’s sofa.

Half an hour passed. You had watched everyone’s post-race interviews.

An hour passed. You had liked all the teams’ posts on social media.

An hour and a half passed. You didn’t have any news from Ollie.

Deep down, you knew that the most logical explanation was a post-race debrief that was lasting longer than usual. But still, it wasn’t like Ollie to not even notify you of the delay. So you texted him again and hoped that he would eventually look at his phone.

I’m waiting for you, you still haven’t come

Just worried ab you so please text me as soon as you see this🤍

You were anxiously biting your nails when someone opened the door a dozen minutes later, which startled you. You quickly sat up, hoping that it was Ollie. But to your disappointment, it was only Charles.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked when he noticed your smile fading. “We got a podium, you have to come celebrate with us tonight!”

“I’ll pass… but congrats on P3, I’m truly happy for you and I think your performance will help us for the future!” Despite your sour mood, you still wanted to show your support to Charles.

“I hope so too. But why are you still here? You usually leave my room earlier so that’s why I didn’t bother knocking.”

“I’m waiting for Ollie,” you told him. “He was supposed to get me like a half hour ago but he hasn’t come yet, and I don’t have any news from him.”

“Oh, sorry. Last I saw him, he was leaving the media pen to go back to his garage. You want me to text him too? Or call him?” Charles really wished he could do something to help you, not liking to see you down.

“It’s okay… I’ll just–”

“I’m here!” Someone shouted as their hand appeared before their face, fingers gripping the doorway. “I’m here, oh God. I can’t breathe, wait.”

Ollie looked like he had run a marathon before arriving, as he was having a hard time catching his breath. His gaze was solely focused on you, and he straightened up when he noticed the worry on your face.

“Sorry I took so long,” he apologised. “I was finishing my interviews, and then I was walking back to Haas. But I saw Fred. And I was going to ignore him at first because I was nervous as hell when I remembered that he knew about us, but then I thought of you. I didn’t want him to be mad at you because of me, and–”

“Ollie, slow down! Breathe, of my God. You look like you’re about to faint any minute now,” you said as you stood up and poured him a glass of water. He quickly drank it, and you were glad to see some colour come back to his face.

“Thanks. Anyways, I was saying…” He thought for a second, remembering where he had stopped. “Yeah, I talked to your dad; told him I love you; that I wouldn’t hurt you; that you were everything to me. And he was grumpy about it, but I think he accepted our relationship!”

“What?” You were flabbergasted at Ollie’s words. “You convinced my dad that you weren’t gonna break my heart?”

“Yep”, Ollie excitedly replied. His smile was contagious, making a matching one appear on your face. “I don’t think he actively enjoys me dating you, but I got his blessing.”

“His blessing?!” Charles exclaimed. He had been silent from the beginning, quietly following the exchange, but he felt like he had to join the conversation now. “I’m not even gonna comment on why he suddenly knows about you two, but did you ask Fred for her hand or what?”

“Well, hmm… no?”

“You sound unsure”, Charles pointed out as he raised an eyebrow at Ollie.

“Ollie, did you say anything else to my dad?”

“If you count me telling him that I was imagining my future with you, and that it would mean a lot to me if he could entrust you to me for the rest of our lives… then yes, that’s the other things I said to him.”

You exchanged a look with Charles, the both of you unable to believe Ollie’s words.

“I don’t know if you realise, but…” Charles thought of how to word it, as Ollie waited for him to keep going. “You literally asked Fred for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

“I did what?” Ollie’s eyes darted towards you, hoping you could deny it. But when he saw you nod, he realised what he had done. “Oh God…”

“You literally said to my dad that you wanted to spend your entire life with me”, you explained the situation to Ollie.

“Go pick out a white dress then,” Charles added with a laugh.

You chuckled at Charles’s words, and Ollie noticed something.

“You’re not mad or weirded out about it?” He asked you, worry evident in his voice.

“No?” You replied, a smile on your face. “Ollie, I love you and I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. I’d actually enjoy that very much.”

“Oh…” Ollie couldn’t help the blush that kept intensifying on his cheeks as he ran his fingers through his hair, symbolising how nervous he was. “Well, that’s good then.”

“That’s very good, yeah.”

You and Ollie exchanged loving smiles for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything else until Charles spoke up:

“Okay, kiss now! Y’all are happy and in love – we get it,” he told the both of you.

“Jeez, calm down. You get one podium and suddenly you’re giving us orders,” you complained. Still, you closed the gap between you and Ollie before gently kissing him. You kept it short due to Charles’s presence, and stepped back with a smile still harbouring your face.

“Be grateful I never said anything to Fred, though! I know I said I would keep it a secret last year, but I was actually joking back then.”

“I know you were. But yeah, thanks for not ratting us out to your boss.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with satisfaction and smugness in his voice. “Now, get out there and celebrate your little love story elsewhere! I need to change before going out with the team.”

Charles was almost pushing you out of his room, clearly wanting some alone time for a bit. You chuckled at him, before taking Ollie’s hand and dragging him away to the exit.

Once outside, you couldn’t help laughing again. Ollie looked at you, waiting for you to convey your thoughts.

“Still can’t believe you asked my dad to marry me”, you teased.

“Stop, I’m gonna be traumatised next time I see him.” Ollie blushed again, and you could only think that he was adorable. “It’s gonna haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll be there with you, though.” You stopped laughing, as your tone became slightly more serious. “I meant what I said, Ollie. I’ll actually spend my life with you if you’ll have me.”

“Of course I will”, he replied. “I’ll have you forever, for as long as we can get.”

It was now your turn to blush, not believing how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like Ollie.

Because you were both young when you first saw Oliver Bearman.

And you would be both old, when you would last see him.

..........

Y'all can't imagine how much i love this one🥹

As well as being my 1st time writing for ollie, it was my 1st time doing like a "song fic" (does that count as one?) - i hope the swifties out there got all the lyrics i included haha

I'm so glad f1 has challenged me in my writings and helped me try out new/diff things compared to what i was used to write like that feels super rewarding when i end up being proud of what i produced so I'm just super happy🎀

I really hope y'all enjoyed reading this one as much as i did writing it - don't hesitate to like, reblog, or comment to tell me your thoughts!!

See you soon, take care of yourselves, I love y'all xx

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #ollie bearman #ollie bearman x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #ollie bearman x you #ob87 #ob87 x reader #ob87 x you

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mrschtappen · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄

I : The Call of the Circuit -> II : Dreams Ignited (soon) -> III : Untitled (soon)

masterlist

Max Verstappen x Schumacher!reader

Synopsis: childhood friends Max Verstappen and you, the daughter of racing legend Michael Schumacher, evolve from best friends to fierce rivals to teammates. maybe then to lovers....?

Monday, 10th December, 2018 Faenza, Italy

You sat alone at your new office, your eyes fixed on the glowing screen of your phone. The Twitter announcement you had posted earlier that day was still causing ripples across the internet, igniting a firestorm of reactions and responses from fans and followers around the world.

As you scrolled through the flood of comments, memes, and well-wishes flooding your feed, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The overwhelming wave of support and excitement from your supporters served as a poignant reminder of the incredible journey that lay ahead.

You made sure you turned off the lights of your new office when you were about to go. Settling inside your Audi R8, the soft chime from your phone took your attention away from driving.

As you read Max's message about bringing a Michael Schumacher merch from Germany, a wave of mixed emotions washed over you. The mention of your father's name, especially in connection with Germany, brought back vivid memories of the ski accident that had changed your lives forever in 2013.

your heart felt heavy, a subtle ache resurfacing as you recalled the challenging times that followed your father's accident. The uncertainty, the hope, and the unwavering support from loved ones, including Max, during those difficult years played like a reel in your mind.

Despite the pain and the bittersweet nostalgia, you weren't angry with Max for bringing up those memories. In fact, you felt a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and the comfort of your shared history. Max had been a pillar of strength and understanding throughout your journey, and his genuine care and friendship meant more to you than any merchandise ever could.

Sitting alone in your car, you took a moment to let the emotions wash over you. You reflected on your journey and the pivotal decision to join Formula 1, a deep sense of determination and purpose filled your heart. Since you were three years old, the dream of racing in F1 had been a beacon of hope and ambition, driving you to push boundaries and defy expectations.

You knew that stepping onto the track wasn't just about fulfilling your childhood dreams; it was also a tribute to your father and the legacy he had built. The memories of watching Michael Schumacher's triumphant moments, especially his 6th championship title, had ignited a spark within you, fueling her passion and commitment to chase after her own aspirations.

Despite the challenges and the weight of the past, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and pride. You knew that your journey was a testament to your resilience, determination, and the unwavering support of those who believed in you, including Max.

Sunday, 12th October, 2003 Suzuka, Japan

As a three-year-old, you may not have comprehended the complexity of Formula One racing, the excitement buzzing in the air, the infectious energy of the crowd through the grandstands. The vibrant colors of the racing cars zooming past, the deafening roar of engines, and the flashes of cameras captured your attention, painting a kaleidoscope of sensory impressions.

Although your understanding was limited at such a tender age, the sight of Michael Schumacher, dressed in his iconic red racing suit, elicited a sense of pride and admiration within your young heart.

"That's my dad !" your little fingers pointed at the red car zooming the finish line, practically screaming at everyone as you started clapping then.

The warmth of your mother's embrace welcomed you as you cheered together, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

your eyes wide with wonder as you watched your father bask in the spotlight and as Michael Schumacher descended from the podium, triumphant and beaming with joy, his eyes sought out you, your mother and your older brother Mick in the crowd. With a tender smile, he reached out to scoop up his young daughter, lifting you into his arms and hoisting you high above the crowd.

the cameras flashed and the crowd erupted into applause, you enjoyed the attention, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world to be held in the arms of your racing hero.

The image of your bond captured for all to see, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish forever—a moment when you felt truly seen and cherished by the man who meant the world to you.

your dad, Michael Schumacher.

Saturday, 27th November 2003. Gland, Switzerland

you stepped onto the karting track for the very first time, your heart pounding with excitement and nerves. The whole family was there along with your dad's friend's family, the Vertsappens. With your tiny hands gripping the steering wheel of your go-kart, you were confused on how the whole kart operates.

"You've got this schatzi !" You heard your dad cheer for you from a distance, calling you a nickname that means sweetie in German.

Frustrated, you spoke

"How do I do this ?"

Max Verstappen, the seasoned six-year-old racer, flashed you a mischievous grin as he leaned over to offer his expertise.

"Watch and learn, little rookie. First, you gotta push down on the pedal like this..."

With a swift motion, Max demonstrated, his foot pressing down on the accelerator pedal with practiced ease. You watched intently, your eyes wide with fascination.

"Like this?"

you mimicked Max's actions, but your foot hesitated on the pedal, unsure of the right amount of pressure to apply.

Max chuckled, reaching over to gently guide your foot.

"Almost there, y/n ! You just need to press a little harder."

you nodded eagerly, determined to master the art of go-karting with Max's help.

"Got it! Thanks, Maxie !"

As you zip around the track, the conversation turned to your shared love for Formula One racing.

"Do you think we'll ever drive in Formula One, Max ?"

Max grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Of course! And when we do, I'll be the world champion, then Mick and you will be my trusty sidekicks."

you rolled her eyes playfully, a giggle escaping your lips.

"Dream on, Max! I'll be the one leaving you in the dust!"

"Hey, you two ! How's it going ? " a familiar voice chimed in from behind you, causing both Max and you to turn around

Max grinned, giving Mick a playful nod.

"We're having a blast ! little rookie here is a natural behind the wheel."

you blushed at the praise from Max

"Thanks, Maxie ! And hey, Mick, I'm going to beat you someday !"

Mick laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Is that so ? Well, I look forward to the challenge ! Let's see who can get to formula one first"

Your banter filled the air with laughter as the three of you raced around the track, your friendship growing stronger with each passing lap. And as you crossed the finish line second, just a few millisecond behind Max, a smile grew wide on your face.

"Looks like you've got a prodigy, are you sure this is her first time ? She's a natural" Max's dad said, a chuckle escaped from your dad

You crossed the finish line just 4 tenths of a second later than someone who was 3 years older than you. You can feel the pride surging even when you were just so little.

"wow you're fast" your older brother said, giving you a high five as you returned it enthusiastically with a tiny jump

"yeah, not so bad little rookie !" Max also gave you a high five

you smile with your tiny teeths showing, your dad embraced you, lifting you up in the air

"my daughter is a soon to be formula one racer, and the world shall know you as for you are, not the daughter of a six time world champion but y/n Schumacher."

you couldn't help but feel grateful for everyone's guidance and support, knowing that with them by your side, you knew you were able to achieve anything.

Thursday, 14 March 2019 Melbourne, Australia ROUND ONE

As you took your first steps out to greet the fans, a wave of exhilaration and gratitude washed over you. The energy from the crowd was palpable, a mix of excitement, anticipation, and overwhelming support. The sight of fans waving flags, holding up banners, and wearing team colors was a surreal and heartwarming experience for you.

Walking along the barricades, you were met with a sea of merchandise bearing your name and face, along with the iconic Michael Schumacher memorabilia that fans had brought along. The presence of the Michael Schumacher merchandise added an extra layer of emotion to the moment, reminding you of the legacy you were a part of and the immense responsibility that came with it.

As you greeted fans, signing autographs and posing for photos, several fans couldn't help but comment on the striking resemblance between you and your legendary father, Michael Schumacher. Their kind words and compliments about your beauty and resemblance to your father filled you with a sense of pride and humility.

Amidst the flurry of interactions, one fan caught your attention with a cheeky remark that left both of you laughing.

you backed away with laughter, cupping your mouth, looking at a marriage certificate by an older fanboy, a good looking one you couldn't lie.

"I'm 19 !" You exclaimed, a wide laugh still visible on your face

"Maybe in a few years !" You joked, before moving to another fan, signing her cap with the number 57 on it, a number you chose to drive for.

It was media day today which means there's no driving and the press conference began with Lewis Hamilton from Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel of Ferrari, Daniel Ricciardo from Renault, Max Verstappen of Red Bull Racing and of course yourself, y/n Schumacher from Scuderia Toro Rosso.

"We’re gathered under very sad circumstances, following the news that Charlie Whiting, the FIA’s Director of Formula One died during the early hours of this morning. I’d like to start this press conference by asking each of the drivers present for their thoughts and memories of Charlie. Lewis, could we start with you, please?" Lewis spoke to the mic

"I’ve known Charlie since I started in 2007. I made some comments this morning on my Instagram. It may have not worked, as I think it’s down but obviously incredibly shocked this morning to hear the sad news and my thoughts and prayers are with him and his family. What he did for this sport, I mean, his commitment… he really was a pillar, as Toto said, such an iconic figure in the sporting world and he contributed so much for us, so may he rest in peace."

as the other drivers stated their comments regarding the passing of the late Charlie Whiting, it was your turn to answer

"How about y/n ? I believe this has come to a big shock as well as your father was also racing when he was the f1 racing director ?"

"yes, my father raced during Charlie's tenure as F1 Racing Director. I've met Charlie a few times and found him to be a wonderful person. His dedication to safety and fairness in Formula One was unmatched. Charlie's ability to connect with everyone in the paddock and his unwavering passion for the sport made him irreplaceable. My thoughts are with his family, friends, and the entire FIA community during this tough time. His legacy in Formula One will always be remembered"

as they continued tho the next question, you were shocked as to how bold and daring for this male interviewer to ask the whole lot of drivers with you

"Given the whispers around the paddock about nepotism getting y/n Schumacher this seat due to her father's legacy, and considering she is the sole female on the grid, do you drivers genuinely believe she is as competent as the other drivers, or do you acknowledge a potential gap in her skill?"

As the interviewer's words cut through the tension of the room, your face tightened, a blend of disbelief and frustration clouding your features. The weight of the question bore down on you, amplifying your discomfort and vulnerability in that moment.

You felt exposed, the spotlight glaringly bright, intensifying the scrutiny you felt as the only female driver on the grid.

Sensing your discomfort, a subtle shift occurred amongst the drivers on the panel. Eyes darted towards you, expressions reflecting concern and empathy.

Among them, Max Verstappen's gaze lingered a moment longer, his usually confident demeanor softened by genuine concern for his fellow driver.

The collective silence that followed the question seemed to stretch on, the atmosphere thick with tension. But within you, a resilient fire ignited. Drawing strength from the supportive glances of your peers and your own unwavering determination, you steadied yourself. You would not let this moment define you or shake your belief in your own capabilities.

"could we start with you again Lewis ?"

Lewis's expression tightened, clearly upset by the nature of the question.

"Honestly, I find it disappointing that in this day and age, we're still having these discussions. Women have proven time and time again that they can compete at the highest levels of motorsport. I've been a staunch supporter of women in racing, and I've seen firsthand the talent and determination they bring to the track."

"Look, in Formula 1, everyone's path to the grid is different. Yes, some of us come from racing families or have certain connections, but ultimately, talent and hard work are what count. I've faced skepticism throughout my career for various reasons, and I've always chosen to let my performance on the track speak for itself. As for y/n, she's shown promise and skill in her journey to F1. The sport is better when we have diverse talents, and I believe she deserves her place here"

"Thank you for the answer, could we move on to Vettel next ?"

Vettel's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and growing indignation. "It's disappointing, really, to hear these questions. Every driver on this grid has earned their seat through dedication, hard work, and skill. Formula 1 is a tough environment, and to suggest that anyone is here purely because of their name or gender undermines the effort we all put in. I've met y/n and seen her commitment firsthand. She belongs here as much as anyone else."

Then they moved on to Danny. His jovial demeanor momentarily shifted as he heard the interviewer's pointed question directed at you. Being someone who often exudes positivity and fairness, Daniel values meritocracy and respects the grind every driver goes through to reach Formula 1. Hearing a fellow driver being questioned on the basis of nepotism and gender struck a chord with him.

"Ah, the old nepotism and gender card. It's not a new question in F1, but it's one that misses the mark. Sure, having a famous last name might open some doors initially, but it won't keep them open if you can't deliver on track. As for being the only female driver, I think it's about time we focus on skills and capabilities rather than gender. I've had the chance to get to know y/n, and she's got talent. End of story."

Then they moved on to Max, who is known for his fierce competitiveness and straightforwardness. It was clear that he was infuriated by the audacious implication and the discomfort it caused you.

Seeing you visibly uncomfortable only intensified Max's emotions. He felt a surge of protective anger, recognizing the unfair scrutiny and challenges you faced as the only female driver on the grid. In that moment, the friendship among drivers was evident, as Max's concern for your well-being was palpable.

His eyes flashed with fury as he seized the opportunity to address the interviewer's audacious question. His voice dripped with venom as he unleashed his pent-up frustration.

"Firstly, the audacity to question anyone's place on this grid based on gender or family name is just absolute garbage. She's earned her spot on this grid through sheer talent and hard work, just like the rest of us. Anyone who suggests otherwise is either blind or just plain ignorant."

His words were sharp and cutting, each syllable laced with disdain for the backward mindset behind the question. Max's aggression was palpable as he continued to tear down the baseless accusations.

"In case you missed it, Formula 1 is about racing, talent, dedication, and hard work, not gender or who your parents are. It's disappointing to still be facing these backward stereotypes in this day and age. We should be focusing on racing and the incredible talent we have on this grid, not trying to create controversy where there isn't any . For the record, I've raced alongside her, and I've known her my entire life. Y/n is an extraordinary racer through and through, and she's proven herself time and time again."

He paused, taking a breath to temper his rising emotions before continuing,

"So, how about we focus on the actual sport instead of dredging up this garbage ?"

Max's aggressive defence reverberated through the room, leaving no doubt as to where he stood on the matter and silencing any further attempts to undermine your place in the sport.

As you listened to Max's vehement defense, a mixture of emotions washed over you. Initially, there was a sense of relief and gratitude. Max's and the other drivers' unwavering support and fierce defence of you felt like a shield against the unfair scrutiny you had faced. It was reassuring to know that your fellow drivers stood your her and were willing to call out the injustice.

Your eyes briefly met Max's intense gaze, conveying a silent thank you and mutual understanding of the gravity of the situation.

Then it was finally your turn to answer

With a poised demeanor, you addressed the room, your voice steady and confident.

"I'd like to extend my sincere appreciation to my fellow drivers for their support. It speaks volumes about the fellowship and respect we share as competitors."

Pausing momentarily, you continued with a touch of irony,

"Regarding the questions raised about nepotism and being the only female on the grid, I was under the impression that Formula 1 valued skill, determination, and performance above all else. My presence here is a testament to my commitment, capability, and qualities I believe are fundamental to every driver on this grid."

Maintaining your composure, you added, "While these questions may have been posed, my focus remains unwaveringly on racing. I am here to compete, to challenge, and to succeed, just like every other driver. I look forward to letting my performance on the track speak for itself. Besides, I don't see 19 men ahead of me, I see 19 challenges to be conquered."

With this response, you gracefully but firmly addressed the issue, highlighting your professionalism and determination to rise above the noise and excel in your chosen profession.

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chaostudee · 11 months ago

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forever and always, carlos sainz.

summary : after a disappointing race you support your boyfriend warnings : language a/n : posts will probably be inconsistent because im back at school but ill try my best :) also carlos and lewis both out in q2?!?! i was not okay. and now a grid penalty for lewis. no one talk to me.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

the clouds hung darkly above the zandvoort circuit, the risk of rain inevitable. for carlos the weekend had been positive, getting pole in qualifying along with charles on the front row.

you stood in the garage decked out in your ferrari merch, hopeful for a good result for the team. you crossed your fingers behind your back for luck as your attention was drawn to the big screen as the red lights began to light up.

"it's lights out and away we go"

carlos gets away quickly and breaks away from the top three. with a decent start it was just a matter of a good strategy. thunder ruptured through the skies, a warning signal of what was to come.

it was only a matter of moments later that the rain started to pour. many of the teams had decided to box once there was drizzle but carlos was persistant to continue and to maintain p1 position.

"okay we will box this lap" carlos's engineer voices over the team radio. carlos confirms and carries on but decides to push more.

at turn three his rear tires run onto the grass, causing the car to snap and then spin and crash into the nearby barrier that was home to a grandstand full of adoring fans.

you gasp once you see the scene, the only thing on your mind was if he was okay. once you spot him hopping out of the car unscathed you sigh in relief but upon seeing his clenched fists you know he is far from okay mentally. all weekend he had been so confident that this race he could win, and now it was all over.

carlos walks away from the scene and back to the garage. he was frustated with himself for pushing to hard, for letting down the team.

you stood with carlos's cousin and engineer manager waiting for carlos's arrival.

carlos walks in and in frustation slams his helmet onto the ground along with his gloves. with that he grunts and flees off to his drivers room

you turn to carlos's cousin who sighs before speaking. "maybe give him some space for awhile"

you shake your head at him. "no he needs me right now" you say disregarding his words and rushing after carlos.

you knock on the door of his drivers room but once you get no reponse you enter anyways.

your heart breaks once you see carlos in the corner of the room his head in his hands.

"hey" you whisper, causing carlos to look up. when he sees you he gives a small smile.

you move closer to him so that you are now standing right before him. you take your hands and rest them on his shoulders, bringing his head against your stomach.

you run your fingers through his hair comfortingly. and he wraps his arm around you, welcoming to the embrace. this was what he needed after that horrible result, to be held in the arms of the woman he loves.

"i just feel so guilty, i let the team down" he mumbles.

it wounded you to see him being so hard on himself over a silly mistake.

"i promise you baby no one is thinking about that, everyone is just happy you are okay".

carlos smiles at your words. you were always there to comfort him on his bad days.

he looks up at you now, taking his hand and tracing his fingers along your cheek before pulling you onto his lap.

"you are so perfect, and you always know how to calm me down".

you chuckle and a small blush creeps across your cheeks.

"i know you carlos"

"you know me" he repeats smiling to himself before bringing his lips to yours. it was a soft tender kiss that made you long for more when you pulled apart.

"i will always support you carlos"

he tucks a hair behind your ear. "i love you so much" he admitted, "forever and always".

you bite your bottom lip. "i love u too". you press your lips against his and this time the kiss is fast and demanding and you have to pull away to catch your breath for a moment.

"forever and always".

taglist ⭑.ᐟ

@mxryxmfooty

@llando4norris

@lottalove4evelyn

@hadidsworld

@heavy-vettel

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bullet-prooflove · 11 months ago

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In For Five: Tyler Owens x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hunterthecharmer @heylookwhoitis @shakespeareanwannabe

Companion piece to:

The Mechanic - Tyler faces a problem when Boone brings his mechanic ex girlfriend back into the fold.

Rigs -Tyler reflects on history with you

Ford Mustang - Tyler extends an olive branch.

Engine Parts - Tyler and you try to clear the air.

Your first job with the Wranglers is to get Tyler’s truck back to your garage in Lawton. When you step out of your tow truck and lay eyes on it, you know it’s going to be a bigger job than you initially reckoned because the poor thing is barely holding itself together in the aftermath of it’s adventures in a tornado.

“You can fix it right?” Tyler asks as you stand before the vehicle with your arms crossed over your chest.

“It looks like it needs an exorcism.” You tell him with a sigh before attaching the chain to the truck. “Let’s hope it holds together long enough for me to get it home.”

Arnett is almost three hours away from Lawton and Tyler decides to ride shotgun, leaving the other Wranglers with the RV as they help locals rebuild the community where tornado hit.

“It’s where the money from all the merch goes.” He tells you as you hurtle down the 60, your eyes on the road, Luke Combs on the radio. “We try to help out as best we can.”

He was the same back then too, you recall, throwing himself into the thick of it, pitching in any way he could.

It’s an hour into the trip that you realise he’s fallen asleep, the lyrics to Fast Car are still playing but Tyler’s voice isn’t accompanying them. You look over to see him tucked up against the door of your tow truck, head resting on the window, arms crossed over his chest. He looks so boyish in that moment, so care free and you remember what Boone had said when he’d taken you aside after Tyler had climbed inside your truck.

��He hasn’t been sleeping since the big one.” He confides in you. “He says he’s fine but what happened in that movie theatre scared the shit out of all of us especially when we almost lost Lily.”

Tyler hasn’t talked much about the tornado other than a brief outline of Kate’s work, it isn’t until that moment you realise just how close it had been for all of them. It explains the smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes these days.

It’s when you pull into the garage that you try to wake him. You try saying his name but he doesn’t stir so instead you reach across to touch him, your hand lightly squeezing his shoulder. He jerks awake, his body tensing, his eyes wide and fearful and you know that he was back there again, trapped in that movie theatre along with everyone else, waiting to die.

“Hey, it’s alright.” You say softly, your hand coming to cup the side of his face, your thumb tracing over the dusting of stubble across his cheek. “It’s just me.”

His hand clasps your palm to his face, his heart thudding in his chest as he closes his eyes and his breathing stuttered.

“In for five.” You whisper and he draws in a deep breath. “Hold for five and then out for five.”

It’s a throwback to three years ago, when you used to wake up with your pulse racing in the middle of the night. He’d be right there with you, his forehead resting on yours as he soothed away your tears.

“Do it with me.” He’d say as he looked into your eyes, drowning out everything else but the sensation of his chest pressing moving in time with yours. “In for five.”

His breathing starts to even out, his shoulders relaxing. His lips brush over the underside of your wrist, his heated breath ghosting over your skin as his eyes meet yours. It takes you back to the last time the two of you were together in a motel room in Kansas, him undressing you by the light of the street lamp outside, his lips chasing over every inch of you before he took you apart.

“We’re home.” You whisper and Tyler sighs because home is where ever you are, it’s just taken him this long to realise it.

Love Tyler? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens fanfiction #twisters #twisters 2024 #twisters movie

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tinkerpeller · 3 months ago

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emmet & ingo with a reader who loves magical girls

a/n: i don't think i've written an x reader post before (in years). that said i am currently not taking requests since i'm a bit shy with writing. still, i hope you'll enjoy this nevertheless

ingo ▲

ingo doesn't watch shows nor read comics often (except thomas the tank engine. he and emmet are nuts for thomas. that goes without saying though). even then, he's a verrry casual fan when it comes to the media he consumes. usually

so when he meets someone who's dedicated to a whole fictional genre about girls kicking ass with sparkly powers and the like, he can't help but feel endeared. it's cute!

he's not that familiar with magical girls, and while he does recognize some of the popular ones he doesn't know a lot about them. learning about the different characters and their stories through your ramblings really opened his eyes

he sometimes finds himself humming to some of the tunes you'd let him listen to during work, from the opening themes to the transformation songs. what can he say? they're catchy and well composed

he'd spot some merch of your favorite girl(s) and buy it for you. trust

emmet ▽

emmet consumes media a bit more than his brother. a fair share of things he's seen aren't train related, surprisingly! (though train-focused stories are still the majority, of course)

he himself has probably only watched like… two or three magical girl anime (out of curiosity). and also one manga series he's read. he kinda doesn't remember what happens in any of them, save for a few iconic moments. boy is his watchlist gonna EXPAND once you come into his life

let him come up with transformation mottos and attacks with you. magical boy emmet is kicking into high gear! all aboard!

if you like dancing and/or singing, he'll groove to the opening, ending and image songs with you. man is going to learn those lyrics and steps by heart

he'll also buy you merch ofc but he'll also surprise you with toy transformation trinkets if you like them. trust

#the hcs for emmet feel a bit more passionate/well thought out i'm sorry ingo fans. i swear i like them equally (to some degree)#pokemon x reader #submas #submas x reader #ingo x reader #subway boss ingo #emmet pokemon x reader #emmet x reader #subway boss emmet #x reader #long post #eri writings #art gall-eri #i could do this post better… is anyone interested in a part two?

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baby-dr1ver · 2 years ago

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kinktober <3

wearing the others clothes

oscar x reader

Oscars POV: It was along day of of going over data and Andrea making me and Lando color in the lines. Track limits were a bitch, but I felt worse for Lando than me. I already texted Y/N that I was on my way back to the hotel, and I would bring dinner. She hadn’t texted back but, it wasn’t out of the ordinary. Working remotely had it’s perks, like getting to travel with me to almost every race.

I struggle to open the door with everything in my hand, and I expected for Y/N to run and help as soon as I was through the door. Instead, I was met with silence, the lights were dimmed and I didn’t see her anywhere. I set things down on the dresser and called her name a few times. “Babe? Y/N?” I sat on the bed heavily, and heard a small groan. I turned to face the lump on the bed, that I missed the first time, and saw her head poking out the top. I pulled the blankets away from her face and saw a familiar number on the back of her hoodie. My number to be exact, she’s wearing my hoodie. We haven’t been together long, well, 10 months to be exact. I guess that could be a long time. Either way, she hasn’t worn anything of mine yet, I mean she has her own Mclaren merch and she looks amazing in it. But it’s a different feeling when she’s wearing my clothes, and she smells like me. It makes me chest warm and fuzzy.

Instead of waking her, I change out of my own gear and climb into bed next to her. She makes a small noise when I pull her back against me, but settles as soon as I kiss her temple and squeeze her waist. I push my face into her neck, taking in her scent mixed with mine. This…this was a different feeling then just seeing her in my clothes this was..this stirred something new in him.

He didn’t ponder for long, the alluring smells and feelings pulled him into sleep.

He texted her the next day to let her know that a car would be there to pick her up before the race started. He had to be in the garage extra early to meet with Zak and his strategist. Starting P1 was big, huge even. As a rookie I was not supposed to be having this great of a season, 2 podiums in a row? Unheard of.

It was 15 min until the race started and I made my way out of the garage to see everyone before I started my last minute prep. I spotted Y/N talking to one of my engineers and laughing and fuck me did she look gorgeous. She’s wearing my team shirt with my name and number on it, how do you know it’s yours do you ask? Because it’s about three sizes to big on her-and she’s got my favorite pair of jeans she owns on, they’re baggy and they make her look quite tall. And her hair is in a little half do thing, she’s got braids framing her face with ribbons tied at the end. She knows I love when she uses bows in her hair, makes her look so innocent and pure.

She found me and waved me over. “Osc!” My legs were on auto pilot, my body magnetized to hers and she wrapped me in a hug. “Hi baby, glad you made it. Is that my shirt?” I asked nonchalantly. She pulls away, ��yeah sorry, the rest of my papaya things were dirty.” She frowns and looks down. “I should have asked first I’m sor-”

“No hey, I love it. You don’t ever have to ask to wear my clothes baby.” She blushed and looked down at her feet. I giggled at her reaction, and I lean forward to kiss her forehead. One of my hands found it;s way under her shirt (read: mine) to rest along her stomach. It was nothing new for either of us, it was a comfort to both. However, what was new was a thick band where her underwear would be. Upon furher investigation, oh fuck oh fuck she’s wearing my boxers. For fucks sake mate do not get a boner right now, it is not the time.

“Is there anything of mine you aren’t wearing? Your dedicated, boxers and everything.” She looked up at me with a guilty look. “I was in a rush this morning, I over slept big time, and it was the first bottoms I found. The jeans are mine and my soxs-well the socks are Lando’s merch. The white ones with the ‘LN4’ stitched on the side.” As she lifted her pant leg so I could see, a nasty feeling bloomed in my chest. I didn’t like that she was wearing anything associated with Lando.

“You know what, I have some socks in my drivers room, you can wear those. No need to wear those pesky things.” I started to pull her towards the hallway that led to my room when she stopped me once we were out of earshot of people. “Oscar! What is going on love? You seemed fine just a minute ago, now your in a tizzy.” She had that stance, the mom stance is what I affectionately called it. Hands on her hips, one leg popped out, not good.

I sighed, “I just, your MY y/n, not Landos. I want you to wear my things.” I mumbled the last part, as if she wouldn’t catch on.

Y/N pouted and cupped my cheeks, pushing up on her toes to kiss me.

“Your y/n, my ozzy. Always.” She scrunched her nose as she rubbed it with mine. “And I will totally change into your socks if it makes you feel better.”

I laughed at her statement. I was being stupid, I was the one that went home with her every night, not Lando, not anyone.

“Nah it’s fine, you’ve got a big 81 on your back, I think everyone knows who your here for.” And with that, I leave her to get ready for the race.

P2, P fucking 2. The gap between me and Max was still big but, managed to defend myself against my own teammate.

After the podium celebrations and I had packed up my things to leave, I found Y/N consoling Lando, giving him a small sympathy pat. She said her goodbyes and made her way over to me, taking her bag and coat from me. “Everything okay?” I nodded over to Lando. “Yeah he was just giving me more socks, you jealous?” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows and giggled. I laughed along with her, shaking my head, and started to pull her towards the waiting car. “Good because you, get to pull all your clothes off me when we get back.” I whipped my head towards her. She already had a slight flush on her cheeks, rocking on her heels as we stood outside the car. I didn’t even know what to say yet, I just ushered her in the backseat and urged the driver to move as fast as he could.

I pushed Y/N through the door of our hotel room, locking it and using the DND sign. I was about to wreck her and I did not need anyone knocking in the morning.

I had her up against the wall, opposite of the bed. Her hands were in my hair, tugging every which way, taking control of the kiss. I let her think that she was in charge for a couple of more kisses before I pushed off the wall and pulled her onto the bed. Y/N squealed as I landed on top of her, my hands went under her shirt, pushing it up her chest and leaving small marks as more skin was exposed. “Baby… need you inside me please.”

How could I say no? I groaned and got her shoes and pants off, leaving her in my boxers and shirt. “Is it..is it bad that I kinda wanna keep you in this?” I took a step back and looked down at the love of my life. She laughed and wiggled her hips. I watched her hands go under her back, and pulled her bra off her body.

“How about..I take these off,” Y/N said as she seductively slid my boxers off. “and I’ll keep this on so you can see just who I belong to. Because it’s your number I wear every race.”

She smiled up at me, that god damn smile. Could make the whole world fall at her feet with that smile, and that sparkle in her eye. And the way she looked naked with nothing but my shirt on. The shirt she wants to wear, just to let everyone know that she’s mine.

She beckons me over, opening her legs further. I glide my hand down her leg to meet at her sickly sweet opening, dripping just for me. “Do you need me to…or can we skip it tonight?” I asked sheepishly. Not that I wouldn’t love to finger her until her legs went numb, I’m just to worked up for it.

She laughs at my sudden shy demeanor, I’ve blown her back out many times before and I was never shy asking about prep. “Yeah Osc, I’m good. Have been since you practically were feral at the fact that I wasn’t wearing your socks. Didn’t know you were so possessive.”

I laughed and starting stripping myself of my clothes and grabbing a condom. Wrap it before you tap it kids.

“Yeah I didn’t either.” I push the condom over my aching member and rub the tip against her clit. Getting back at her for the teasing earlier. I looked up at her as I paused at her hole, silently asking for permission. She nodded meakly and I slowly pushed in.

Y/N gasped and held onto my forearms for a moment. “Osc, baby…take the condom off.”

My eyes widen. “W-what?” Was she insane? Yeah she was actually insane. “Mhm, I’m on birth control, you know this.” I just stared at her. We, in all of our month of dating, have never fucke raw. Hell I’ve never done that, with anyone. “Are you sure? You know the pill isn’t always affective.” Y/N rolled her eyes and pushed on my stomach so I’d fall out of her. She slowly pulled the condom off and stroked my dick a few times. “That’s what the morning after pill is for.” So much for wrap it before you tap it.

She guided me back to her pussy and just the feeling of her soaking me put me on edge. Without a single warning, I thrust into her. And fuck me was it perfect, she was perfect. We both couldn’t breath for a minute. She had her head push back into the pillows and I grabbed her jaw and forced her to look at me. “Eyes on me sweet girl.” I wish I could take a picture, capture the pensive look on her face. The scrunch of her nose, the way her lips part to say my name. She grabs the hand under her jaw and slides it against her own, intertwining our fingers and laying them against the bed. Ah, now i get it.

“Oh sweetheart, you need me to hold your hand huh?” I fake pout down at her as I start a slow rhythm. “Shut up, oh fuck Osc.” Her back bows as I lift her legs over my hips, making me hit deeper.

All that can be heard throughout the room is skin colliding and y/n’s whines of pleasure. Watching her like this, wearing my number, my winning number, fuck me I don’t know what heaven looks or sounds like but it’s this. “Jesus Christ, this was such a b-bad ah! Bad idea, fuck I’m gonna cum to quickly.” She smiled and brought my hand to her throat, knowing how much the control turned me on.

“C’mon Ozzy, baby, cum in me. please god want it so bad.” Y/N gasped out as I lightly squeezed her throat. The pace I set was bruising, the thought of getting to cum inside my girl, my Y/N-

With my free hand I reached down to play with her clit, determined to get her to cum before me. She pushed her throat against my hand as she moaned my name and came. I could see the white ring form around the base of my cock, that pushing my to cum in her.

let’s just say it’s not the last time she’ll be wearing my number.

#formula one #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x female reader #mclaren #formula one imagine

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