#f1 oc fanfic

[detroit-grand-prix]

Wildest Dreams Chapter 27 - Wildest Dreams (Phoebe's Version)

Chapter summary: Everything has been leading up to this. It's not the last race of the season, but for Phoebe Stallard, it feels like the last, and best chance to make her goal. After all, what could be sweeter than taking her first podium at home? But in racing, just like in life, it's never quite that straightforward.

Content warning: N/A

Chapter word count: 7,100

Author's Notes: This is the end of the main story. When I finished this, though, this story couldn't let me go, and still really hasn't. I've been working on a bunch of side stories that I will get around to posting, and I'm planning on writing an epilogue that has snatches of the 2022-2024 seasons.

I'm really proud of this story, and I'm glad it's gotten a few dedicated fans along the way. I know OC-centered stories aren't popular in RPF fandoms, and that's fine, but I never feel like I am able to do the actual athletes justice, but the psyche of someone who competes in F1my original plan! Thonestly didn't even get through everything I'd wanted to. It was a challenge, too - writing race play-by-plays is really difficult, honestly! But, as far as the stuff I didn't want to get to, we'll see what I can come up with. Plejuest sprang to mind for me but allowed me to take the story in directions that I hadn't expected. Anyway, thank you again for sticking around until this point. I know this chapter was an absolute monster is still fascinating to explore. And I've really enjoyed being able to examine what it would mean to be the first woman in so long to make it that far. I hope someday that it's not just a work of fanfiction, and that it can be reality. The narrative took me by surprise, too. It's really amazing when the story couldn't let me go, and still really hasn't. I've been working on a bunch of side stories that I will get around to posting, and I'm planning on writing an epilogue that has snatches of the 2022-2024 seasons.

*also, I know the spelling is technically "kerbs" but I just cannot bring myself to spell that word that way. SORRY.

Circuit of the Americas, Austin, Travis County, Texas, United States of America

October 24th, 2021

Bee woke up well before her alarm on race day. Her entire body was thrumming with nervous energy, but at least for the time being, it wasn’t a bad kind of nervousness, at least not yet.

She took her time getting ready before she had to meet Emilia and her parents for breakfast, but time had a way of speeding up for her before something she was dreading. She did manage to eat a good breakfast, though, and Toto and Susie ended up meeting them all there - they were just in one of the hotel’s restaurants, but It was the first time she’d seen Toto since qualifying.

“You had an amazing qualifying yesterday, bienchen. I was very impressed. Your performance has definitely improved this year, and I think as long as you just go out there and have fun, you’ll be satisfied with your performance, no matter what.”

It was different advice than everyone else had given her, but it probably did the most to help relieve the pressure.

Eventually, it was time to head to the track for the pre-race festivities, and festivities they were. There was a drivers’ parade first - Bee and all of her gridmades were herded onto the back of a flatbed truck and were driven slowly around the track, while being interviewed for F1TV. She was amused by the sight of a lot of the other drivers wearing cowboy hats - it just didn’t suit most of them, being rich boys from Europe.

The exception, however, was Daniel Ricciardo - not only was he wearing a cowboy hat and cowboy boots, but he had shaved his beard into a handlebar mustache and mutton chops, and was wearing a University of Texas basketball jersey. He joked that he was an honorary American, and he certainly wasn’t wrong.

“You look more American than I have ever felt,” Bee told him as they climbed onto the trailer. “They should probably just give you a US passport right now.” He laughed at her. “I would love that, honestly.”

Bee was dreading the interviewer, Rosanna, coming around to her, but it seemed that she was first. At least she’d get it over with. The interviews were also projected over the loudspeakers in the grandstands.

“We’ll start with you, Phoebe. It’s your first race in the United States, you’re the first American on the grid in many years, there’s a lot of people in Williams blue with American flags - how are you feeling ahead of the race today?”

“I, uh… well, maybe a bit nervous, but it’s so nice to see so much home support -” Bee had to stop talking because of the cheer that rose up from the grandstand they were passing. “And I’m really hoping that I can run a good race today for everyone. I’m sure it will be fine once the helmet is on, though. This is an amazing track and I had a really great qualifying yesterday, and there’s so many people here today, it’s really incredible to see. When I started, all of the races were under lockdown and there was no audience, and it definitely makes a big difference.”

She spent the rest of the parade waving to the crowd and talking to George for a bit. The truck they were on was going slow enough that she could finally get a good look at a lot of the crowd - not only were there a ton of American flags, but it looked like someone had produced a “Super Bee” banner that had been widely adopted - she saw tons of them dotting the grandstands.

It was the first time she’d seen it, and it gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling. She’d spent so much of her racing career being somewhat of an outcast, an outsider, an oddity. She remembered showing up to testing for GP3 and getting stared at the entire time, like nobody there had ever seen a girl in their lives. They probably hadn’t ever seen one in a racing suit. She didn’t ever think motorsport fans would embrace her like this, especially when she’d reached Formula 1, the pinnacle of motorsport.

But then, she thought about Adelle and Olivia, and how Olivia had said that there wasn’t anyone she wanted to root for before she signed with Williams. Maybe she wasn’t the only one. Maybe it wasn’t the racing fandom embracing her, but her presence changing who the motorsport fandom was. No doubt that Netflix had helped with this, bringing Formula 1 to a broader audience, but how had she changed who racing appealed to by just being a woman on the grid? It was everything she’d been working for, it was everything Susie had been working for, before her.

All the more reason to try her best today, and hopefully climb the podium at last.

Once she was freed from the drivers’ parade, she headed to the Williams hospitality tent to get changed and get warmed up. Emilia was already waiting for her in her drivers’ room. She left briefly so Bee could slip out of the jeans and team shirt she was wearing and into her Nomex baselayers and racing suit.They did their warm up sequence as usual, and Bee hopped up on the massage table, ready for the rest of it. She froze for a moment, wondering if she should take her shirt off for the massage, remembering how warm, soft, and soothing Emilia’s hands were on her back yesterday.

Emilia didn’t even have to ask before Bee made her decision, tossing the undershirt onto the small futon in the room.

“Oh, okay! I wasn’t sure if you wanted to do that again. Did it feel better yesterday with -”

“Yes. It did. Thank you.” Bee said, quickly laying face-down on the table so Emilia wouldn’t notice the blush spreading down Bee’s face. Bee could feel the heat spreading down from her cheeks to her chest, and knew it didn’t have anything to do with the Texas sunshine.

“We’ll just do it this way from now on.” Emilia said quietly. “If you want.” Bee heard the click of the cap for the lotion bottle and felt her heart start to beat a little faster.

“...Yes. I… I’d like that.” It really was much more effective. Bee was almost so relaxed by the time she sat up for her breathing exercises that she felt like she could have fallen asleep. Emilia grasped her hands again and led her through a deep breathing progression, because Bee had told her that it helped ground her yesterday.

“Okay. Are you ready?” Emilia said, handing Bee her shirt and her drink bottle after they had finished. “Drink some more. It’s hot out there and I know you’ll need it.”

Before long, it was time to head out to the car to take her place on the grid. Before Bee went to head over to the garage, Emilia stopped her. She bent down to Bee’s height, wrapped her arms around her, and said, “Good luck today. Just go out and have fun. Don’t get your head so wrapped up in the result that you stand in your own way. I know this is an important race for you, but it’s not the last one this season. I’ll be here for you no matter what happens.”

Bee returned her embrace, closing her eyes, breathing in Emilia’s presence around her. “I know. But it feels like it’s a big one. And… Thank you. For everything you do. I don’t know where I’d be without you.” She meant it, too. She never dreamed she’d develop such a close relationship with her performance coach, but she was glad she had.

They walked over to the garage together.

Bee said hello to her parents. Josephine, once again, insisted on taking pictures. One of Emilia and Bee together, one of Susie with Bee, one with Bee and her dad, and one with Bee and Claire. She asked Susie to get a picture of the two of them together, after which Bee said “Mom, I have to go! I have to get on the grid!”. She sounded perhaps a little more whiny than was necessary.

“I know, honeybee, but how many times do you get to watch your daughter race in Formula 1 for the first time in your home country? I don’t think it’s a usual occurrence! I think I’m actually the first!”

Bee laughed. She wasn’t the first, technically, but she was the first in the US.

She hugged both of her parents, Susie, and Claire, and they all wished her luck.

She walked over to her car in its place on the grid, holding her helmet and gloves. Emilia had an umbrella to protect them from the hot, direct sunshine, but she was so much taller than Bee it almost wasn’t working. “Drink some more.” Emilia said. “I know you don’t like to use the drink system in your car, so you need to make sure to finish whatever’s in that bottle before we start.”

Bee rolled her eyes a little and took more sips on the long straw, but secretly, she was touched by Emilia’s concern. She was right, though - it was going to get incredibly hot in the cockpit, and she would be more dehydrated today than usual by the end of the race.

She clambered into the cockpit while the engineers and mechanics made their final adjustments. Emilia had set her umbrella down over her so Bee wouldn’t start baking while she was sitting there. Once all of the final checks were complete, Bee had to climb back out for the opening ceremonies.

The opening presentation was very American in every way - there was a marching band (the University of Texas marching band), a flyover by military helicopters, a giant American flag on the track held by various American military personnel, a giant flag carried across the sky by people with parachutes, the cheerleaders for the Dallas Cowboys NFL team, and a country singer Bee hadn’t ever heard of singing the national anthem.

Normally, she wasn’t particularly moved by “The Star Spangled Banner”. It was okay, but she’d heard so many national anthems by now that she’d grown to have opinions on them. She liked Germany’s “Deutschlandlied”, of course, and she had liked Austria’s “Land der Berge, Land am Strome” before she’d heard it so much this season because of Max’s victories. She disliked the Dutch anthem, but liked the bouncy, cheerful “Il Canto degli Italiani” because of her love for Monza. The UK’s anthem, “God Save the Queen”, always threw her off, because she’d learned the melody as a child as “My Country ‘Tis Of Thee”, an American patriotic tune.

But as the singer on the track hit the last note, a chill shot down Bee’s spine. It was moving this time, and she didn’t know why.

Finally, it was time to start. She was glad Emilia had left the umbrella over the opening of the cockpit, otherwise, her HANS device may have been too hot to pick up with her bare hands from sitting on her seat.

She climbed into her car, put on her radio headset, balaclava, helmet, and her gloves, and her focus narrowed to her steering wheel and the view out of her cockpit. She took a minute to focus on her breath, and focus on the racing line, as she always did. She snapped her visor closed, the mechanics all backed away from the cars for the start, and she was ready for the formation lap. She took off with the pack, weaving the car to get temperature into the tires and warm up the brakes, not that it would be difficult today.

“Radio check.” She heard Gaetan say.

“Loud and clear.”

“Okay, Phoebe. Let’s have a good race today. Keep an eye on your tires, the track is hot. Let me know right away if anything seems off. Remember it’s not very long into the first turn and it’s an uphill climb, so don’t be a hero. Good luck.”

“Copy. Thank you.”

It was strange to see the cars she was behind and next to at the start - she certainly wasn’t used to seeing a Mercedes in front of her or a Ferrari next to her, but she relished it. It felt like a challenge.

Her eyes locked on the starting lights, and she held her breath as all five disappeared.

Right away, she got an amazing start - she saw a gap between Leclerc and Bottas, and swept straight through it, immediately going up into 5th place. Miraculously, there wasn’t any silliness heading into turn 1, a climb steeper than Raidillon at Spa. She pressed in her throttle, and was right on Bottas’ back as they straddled the entry curb on the right.

The nice thing about the hill was that you could brake later and harder than normal without issue, but the apex was hard to spot over the blind crest. You also had to avoid the temptation to turn into the first apex early - the wider line was superior for the best exit.

She slammed into first gear to rotate the car quickly before a quick shift into second gear, making sure to avoid the sausage curb that would wreck her exit.

Turn 2 was flat, and really just a means of getting to turn 3 as soon as possible - that was where the real fun started. A mistake here could affect your drive all the way through turn 6, even as far as turn 11, so keeping a good rhythm and flow here was of the utmost importance. It was the same as Maggots and Becketts at Silverstone.

It didn’t take long to settle into her rhythm, thankfully - by the time they were on lap 4, she was still right on Bottas’s back end as they went into turns 9 and 10. She managed to tell herself to take 9 flat, but it looked like Valtteri had lifted a bit, and she was able to gain on him. If she could stay on him until turn 11, she’d be able to use her car’s Drag Reduction System on him. Formula 1 cars had a rear wing that had a panel that opened to reduce drag - it was like getting another 20 horsepower on your engine, but it could only be used in certain sections of the track, and only while you were a second or less behind the car in front of you.

“You have DRS on Bottas.” Gaetan confirmed as they flew around the hairpin.

“Copy, I’m after him.”

She pressed the DRS button on her steering wheel, and her rear wing snapped open, granting her an additional burst of speed. She slid out of his slipstream and flew around him. She thought he’d be putting up more of a fight, but it was a long race.

She also wondered what Toto was thinking, as he watched from his spot in the Mercedes garage. Would he have been proud of her for battling with, and overtaking, one of his works team drivers, or would he be disappointed that Valtteri didn’t fight more for his place? She hoped it would be the former more than the latter.

“Good job, Phoebe. Perez is next, but he’s about six seconds ahead, and he’s gaining on Hamilton. Just hang out here for now and watch your tires.”

“Copy, thank you.”

Her and Valtteri played leapfrog for a while, trading positions, almost like it was some sort of game. This went on for about ten laps, until she was on the long back straight again, with Valtteri in her crosshairs ahead of her.

She heard Gaetan say, “Box, box, Phoebe.”

“What?! Why? It’s so early!”

“Slow puncture, losing pressure on your front left.” She hadn’t even noticed yet, but the car had so much sensitive instrumentation that the pressures likely hadn’t gotten low enough to affect her driving. She must have developed it from the curbs she ran over while chasing Valtteri.

Images of Sakhir last year flashed through her mind, when George led most of the race while he was driving for Mercedes temporarily, until a tire mixup made him have to pit twice. He fought his way back through the pack, but a slow puncture made it so that he went from almost winning the race to almost not even finishing in the points. She remembered seeing the graphic of his nameplate sinking from the top of the rankings to almost the bottom, and was now envisioning it happening now, live, on television, with her blue “STA” nameplate instead.

She wanted to throw up - who knows how many positions she’d lose pitting this early? But, she had no choice. At least she’d have a tire advantage, but she’d have to pit again later on, surely.

As a mercy, she hadn’t gone all the way past the pitlane yet, so she didn’t have to do a full lap on a tire that was losing air. Since it was a slow puncture, she could still manage around the 12-19 complex if she was careful to avoid the curbs. Those would cause a blowout that would probably force a retirement. She made it - she pulled into the pitlane and felt the anxiety rising. The pit crew changed her tires, but just as she was pulling away -

“Stop! Stop! Stop! Stay here! Red flag!” Gaetan practically shouted through her headset. His voice was abrupt, urgent.

“What?! What happened?”

“Red flag! Latifi spun into the wall at turn 11 and took Alonso and Gasly with him. There’s debris to clear and they’ll need to repair a barrier.”

“Oh, shit! Is everyone alright?” She was trying not to sound too excited, just in case anyone was hurt.

“Yes, they’re all fine, they’re out, but the track is a mess. Red flag procedure, Phoebe.”

Her relief was almost palpable. It must have happened just before she pulled into the pitlane, and she was on the opposite end of the track from the Turn 11 hairpin, which explains why she had no idea.

“Okay, how many places did we lose? What’s our position?”

“Checking.” It was hard to say, as she was the only one pulling into the pit. Unfortunately, it meant that everyone would get a free tire change, and she wouldn’t have the advantage when she exited, but now everyone else would have to either use a harder tire or stop later on.

A moment later, he said, “We are P6, you will line up behind Leclerc.”

Okay, it wasn’t as bad as she thought, she’d only lost three places. That might not be so hard to make up. The other cars came into the pit lane, and she was able to stop the car and get out. There would be another standing start, and they had an hour.

She stripped off her headwear and walked back into the garage. Emilia was standing at the entrance again, as she had been at the Bahrain red flag. But this time, instead of immediately sweeping her back into the privacy of her drivers’ room, she said, “Are you okay? Do you need to take a minute to yourself? I know that was probably pretty stressful.”

Bee shook her head. “I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

She found it oddly touching that Emilia was just always right there, waiting for her in case she needed her. Sure, as her performance coach, she was more or less Bee’s assistant, but they’d never discussed things like that - their relationship, their routine just naturally developed that way.

Different drivers had different ways of staying alert and “in the zone” during red flag periods. She knew Daniel Ricciardo would put on his headphones and listen to music. Some just sat in their garages, or stood in the pitlane and watched. This past year, during the rain-induced red flag in Spa, she remembered actually deciding to take a quick nap, and she hadn’t been the only one to do so. She remembered watching Kimi Raikkonen on TV infamously eating ice cream during a race in Malaysia in 2009.

This time, though, she and Emilia sat in the garage, though still sitting apart from everyone, Emilia talking to Bee about everything and nothing, as a way of trying to keep her from overthinking and getting anxious again. They would go back to do warmups again before the restart, but for now, they just chatted in German together - at least it gave them some privacy. At first, Emilia strayed away from talking about anything to do with the race, but Bee eventually started talking about the race again.

“I felt like I was going to throw up when Gaetan told me I had a puncture. I didn’t even feel it yet.” Bee said. “All I could think about was George in Sakhir last year, but the red flag came in just in time.”

“You were doing so well, though. I think you’ll have no problem making up those places again. There’s still a lot of race left. And no offense, but I’d never thought I’d see you battling for position with Valtteri. At least you did it without crashing.”

Bee laughed. “Could you imagine? I’d probably just flee the country before I had to talk with Toto about it.”

Eventually, it was time to get warmed back up, but Emilia could tell Bee was starting to get nervous again. While Bee didn’t normally get very emotionally demonstrative around other people, Emilia had noticed that Bee’s body language would change considerably depending on how she felt. When she got nervous, her movements would get stiffer, she’d start to fidget and pace, and she’d start biting her lip, or her balaclava if she was wearing it.

“Well, let’s… go finish this, I guess.”

As Bee turned around to leave her drivers’ room, Emilia seized her by the shoulders, and pulled her in close, bending down until their foreheads were almost touching, looking right into her eyes.

“Phoebe, listen. Earlier was just a warm-up. You showed them what you can do. I know it feels like today is your last chance, but it’s not. We still have so many races together. And regardless of how today ends, regardless of your place, you’re going to be successful. You’ve put in the time, you’ve put in the effort, you’ve worked so hard - it’s all paying off. Those other guys might be in faster cars, but they haven’t had to climb half of the obstacles you’ve had to to get here, and you were fighting right up there at the front with them. You can do it again. I’ll be out there on the pit wall watching when you come across the line and cheering you on, no matter what.”

Emilia pulled her into a hug. Bee was a little surprised at first, but eventually, she returned Emilia’s embrace. She had to bury her face in Emilia’s shirt though, to hide the tears that had started to come into her eyes. Even in German, she felt what Emilia had said right down to her very core.

“Okay. I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

She put her balaclava and helmet back on before she left the room, wanting to stay focused and engaged, but she made sure to wave across the garage to where her parents and Susie were sitting. She saw They all called out to wish her luck as she went back out to her car and climbed back in. She and Georged walked out of the garage together, and he wished her luck as well. At least, that’s what she thought - he already had his helmet on as well, but he gave his head a clear nod and grasped Bee’s shoulder. They gave each other a quick hug.

Once again, the mechanics made their final adjustments, and Bee’s focus once again started to narrow. Gaetan did their regular radio check, and Bee’s car was moved back out onto the grid for the restart.

Once again, her focus narrowed into the view out of her cockpit, the sounds of her own breath, the racing line, and the five red lights in front of her.

As the lights went out, she got another decent getaway. Her eyes were wide open and focused, looking for gaps. She didn’t see any, but she was breathing down Charles’ neck from the start, at least. There were 42 laps left, so, as Crofty, the F1 commentator for Sky Sports in the UK, would always say, there was “all to play for”.

She stayed calm, and patient, and eventually, Charles faltered when she was able to use DRS on him, and was back up into 5th. A few laps later, she was hunting down Daniel. He locked up on turn 14 - it was crucial to be gentle on the pedal there, but he may have gotten unnerved by Bee’s presence in his mirrors. It opened the door for her to get around him, and she did.

“Good job, Phoebe. Perez is ahead by three seconds, but we have to start thinking about tires.” she heard.

“Copy. Just let me know. Going to try to build a gap with Daniel.”

As it turns out, she didn’t have to worry about tires - Ocon had a retirement that caused a safety car, which means that everyone got a free tire change. Sure, she was once again robbed of a tire advantage, but so was everyone else.

Verstappen was in first, so he controlled the pace of the pack behind him once the Safety Car period ended. Bee hated these rolling starts, because of how much control the pacesetter had - you had to have constant awareness of when the front of the pack would start to break away once overtakes were allowed again, lest you be overtaken from behind.

If you went too early, it would mean a penalty. Sometimes, the cars in the back could be caught out. In Mugello in 2020, there was an accident at the rear of the pack when they didn’t realize the cars ahead were not at full speed.

Verstapped broke away, and Bee managed to be quick enough on the throttle to end up wheel-to-wheel with Perez for a moment. She had to back off going into a corner to leave enough space, otherwise she would have ended up getting punted into the gravel trap.

She stayed on Perez for the next few laps, but she was focusing so hard she was losing the lap count.

Luckily, Gaetan was nothing if not reliable.

“Five laps, Phoebe. Push, push. Checo is 2.5 ahead, and has been talking about tire wear. Keep the pressure up and you’ll be in DRS range soon.”

It was getting down to the wire. Phoebe pushed through all of the turns, making sure to stay right on Perez’s shoulder, just to be able to take any opportunity he might have presented. She was so close.

“Three laps left, you’re 1.2 away. Almost in DRS.”

Her pace must have been mind-blowingly quick if she’d cut that much off of their gap in two laps. Maybe he was slowing down. Either way, she couldn’t let up now. One lap later, she heard Toto’s voice in her mind as they rounded the turn 9 chicane together.

“You have to squeeze your arse cheeks and commit.”

They were almost wheel-to-wheel again, and Bee wasn’t going to back off this time.

She was through.

But then… Perez had DRS on her. Bee cursed - she should have waited to overtake him until after the DRS zone. It was a stupid mistake, but she remembered what Natalie told her when she was so angry about her late pit exit during her last outing at Monza.

“Some drivers have even made mistakes that have destroyed their entire car. A few seconds on a pit exit seems like nothing in comparison, right?”

Right. It was a small error on an otherwise stellar performance so far. Nothing to lose her head over. She did her best to keep Perez in the dirty air of her car, to defend. The DRS zone would end soon anyway. She wasn’t going to let him take his position back that easily.

“Last lap, Phoebe. Good job keeping Perez behind you.”

It was now or never. She had to be absolutely dead-on for this last lap, Perez was still on her, and the endless defense she had to put up was starting to get exhausting. She could feel herself start to falter going into Turn 12, and she and Perez were wheel-to-wheel again in the 90-degree corner, but she didn’t let up. She couldn’t. Not now.

In her mind’s eye, she saw the faces of everyone who had supported her over the years - her parents, the Wolffs, Claire, Natalie, Emilia, George, Adelle and her daughter, the dozens of fans that she’d met just this weekend. She didn’t want this podium for herself, but she wanted it for them - a tangible marker to show how far she’d come because of them, a means of thanking them, and showing her how strong she’d become with their support. It urged her forward.

And then - she saw a flash of Helmut Marko’s face. She could see him so clearly - the round, balding head, the thin gray hair, and his small, beady blue eyes. His left eye was a prosthetic and his gaze was always a bit off-center. She saw the disdainful, sour look that he had whenever he talked to her towards the end of her time at Red Bull. She thought about how he’d look from his spot in Red Bull’s garage if she snatched this podium away from his own driver. She wanted, more than anything, to deny him a double podium today.

She also imagined the inevitably pissed-off look on Christian Horner’s pointy, freckled, ferret-like face - she didn’t know Christian that well, she’d avoided ever talking to him. But, it would be a bonus.

She kept her foot down through the turn 16/17/18 series, making sure to cling to the curbs to maintain the most speed. She could practically feel Perez right on her, but she stayed firm, steadfast - it was literally the meaning of her surname, after all.

Perez was practically next to her going through the home straight, but she held her breath and stomped the throttle coming out of turn 20.

Time froze, and then dilated as she crossed the line. It was a split-second that felt entirely too long. She felt like she could feel her pulse between the thin margins of seconds it had doubtlessly been.

She saw a spray of fireworks that shot off as soon as the race leader - Max, probably, crossed the line, and she followed a few seconds later. Did she make it? She couldn’t tell. She’d seen Perez inching up to her on her right side at the last minute, but she didn’t think he’d made it through.

“PHOEBE STALLARD! P3!” Gaetan shouted through the radio. She could hear the cheering from the Williams garage in the background. “THAT’S A PODIUM!”

A scream came from somewhere deep inside of her. She didn’t even feel it coming. She’d just run the race of her life. Even through her helmet and headphones, she could hear the roar of the crowd - it sounded like a prolonged, rolling thunderclap. She practically felt it in her chest, even over the hum of the engine behind her.

She looked up and ahead of her, onto the pit wall, and saw something incredible. The crew of practically every team was clinging to the pit wall fence over the home straight, cheering for her. So it seemed, at least. She saw the British racing green of Aston Martin, Ferrari red, Mercedes white and teal (she spotted Toto easily, as tall as he was), McLaren papaya, Alpine and Williams blues - at the last second, she caught a glimpse of a tall woman, in a blue shirt, with blonde hair, grasping the upper corners of an enormous American flag - Emilia.

She was on her cooldown lap, and was speechless. Normally, a driver would thank the team, depending on their mood, but Bee had felt herself start crying. She was grasping onto the bottom of her visor, trying to wipe her eyes through the gap.

She heard Claire through her radio.

“Phoebe, that was an absolutely incredible race. I’m so proud of you, and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come with this team. I know Dad is at home watching now, and I know he’s so excited and happy right now. It’s been a pleasure to be your team principal, and I’m going to miss you so much next year.”

Bee took a breath, and swallowed around the lump in her throat.

“Thank you, Claire, for believing in me. It’s been awesome working with you, and it’s not going to be the same without you. I wanted to get a podium before the end of this season to send you out on a high note and to thank you for bringing me onto this fantastic team - you’ve all been the best part of racing in Formula 1. The spirit and heart of everyone here and in Grove keeps me motivated, and this podium is for all of you - I couldn’t have done it without you.”

It sounded corny, but she’d meant every word of it. Williams had come so far in the last two years, even with the sale and the transition of leadership, but she loved it. She was proud to have been part of the small resurgence they were experiencing.

She waved out to the grandstands as she passed by them on the cooldown lap, and it was clear that people were absolutely losing it. She could have never imagined this. She almost didn’t want to pull into parc ferme - she was enjoying this particular moment - just her, her car, and the distant shouts of her fans - too much.

But, even so, she arrived and pulled up to the 3rd place bollard (another thing she’d never imagined doing) and saw that her team had gathered around the fence to wait for her.

She was 5’2”, not even 160cm, but she felt twice that height when she climbed out of the FW43B and stood on its nose. She tossed her head back and let out the same scream she’d felt tear itself from her chest earlier - of triumph. All of the tension and pressure of the weekend was gone. She jumped down and sprinted over to the crowd of Williams team members at the gate. She wasn’t quite tall enough to jump up and on top of the barriers like some drivers did, but they did their best to reach her, and she was caught in a hailstorm of hugs, cheering, and hearty slaps on her back and helmet.

It was so loud in that crowd of people. The atmosphere was electric.

Someone - probably Emilia - placed the corner of the American flag in her hands, and she gripped it fiercely.

She turned around to see Lewis waiting for her. He grabbed her into a tight hug that lifted her off her feet, which was not difficult. He set her down, and she stripped off her helmet and balaclava. He did the same, and took a moment to re-tie his braided hair back into a ponytail

“I can’t believe it, Phoebe - you’re the first woman ever on a Formula 1 podium!” Lewis shouted over the commotion around them.

Oh. She’d forgotten about that part. It wasn’t what she’d set out to do, necessarily.

He hugged her again, patting her back. “You must have run an incredible race. I can’t wait to watch it later. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Lewis, for everything. You’ve always been so kind to me, and it means a lot.”

At the other end of the parc ferme area, there were small stands for them to place their equipment, and a scale to be weighed right near the pit lane. There used to be cool-down rooms where they did this, but they got rid of them during the abridged COVID season to maintain team bubbles. She stepped on the scale after Lewis. Claire was in the garage outside of parc ferme, standing with Emilia. She went over to them, and they both pulled her into large hugs, telling her how proud they were of her, again.

She wasn’t sure where to go next, though. The podium was on the balcony above the FIA garage area they were in, which was where the medical car was parked. Emilia shoved Bee’s drink bottle into her hands while Bee was looking around, trying to take everything in.

“Here. Drink. It wouldn’t be a good look to pass out on the podium in front of your entire country, would it?” Bee shook her head, and drank greedily. She was only just now aware of how thirsty she was. The race she ran was intensely physical, and the fatigue was only now starting to set in.

She wasn’t sure what she should be doing next, though. She wasn’t sure where Lewis had disappeared to, but she heard some cheers outside that indicated he must have been outside.

She peeked around the door of the garage to see that he was doing an interview with Jenson Button, and just as she did, the F1 employee next to her said, “You’re next, Phoebe.”

She typically didn’t hang around after races to watch the podium ceremony these days, so she was happy for the direction - this was all new to her.

She walked over to take her place in front of the microphone, and Jenson asked her a few questions. The cheer she got when she stepped out of the garage was deafening, and a flurry of American flags unfurled in the crowd. She barely paid attention to whatever Jenson was asking her, but she got through it.

She walked back into the garage area, and stood next to Lewis for a few minutes, chatting companionably with him.

“Uh…” she said. “Where do we go now? Upstairs, or -”

Lewis laughed, and grabbed her by the elbow. “I forgot, this is new for you - come on, this way.”

He led her upstairs into a small waiting area that had an FIA official. It was the “backstage” behind the outdoor podium platform, which was set up on the balcony of one of the permanent buildings at the track. She was still gripping onto the flag she’d been handed. She draped it over her shoulders.

They were also joined by someone from Red Bull to accept the constructor’s trophy for the team. She was just glad it wasn’t Christian or Helmut, but that was apparently rare. The trophy presentation party came in - they were all various local officials that she didn’t know, and…

Shaquielle O’Neal? Bee never watched basketball, but knew the enormous man when she saw him.

“We’re just about ready to start, gentleme - I mean… sorry, ladies and gentlemen.” The FIA official said, looking directly at Bee. Bee waved it off. “It’s fine. I know, this is new for all of us.”

The presentation party all filed out. Bee laughed because Shaq had to duck out underneath the door frame. Certainly not a problem she’d ever have.

“Hey, good job.” Max Verstappen told her. “I heard you gave Checo a bit of a headache. That’s not easy to do.”

It was the first thing Max had ever said to her, that she could remember.

“Ah… thank you. I tried. Congratulations to you, as well.”

He nodded a quick nod at her. “Thank you.”

“And in third place…” she heard from around the temporary wall. “The first woman to ever stand on a Formula 1 podium as a driver… Phoebe Stallard, of the United States of America!”

She walked out from behind the barrier. If she thought the cheers were deafeningearlier, this was nothing. It was incredible. She could barely hear anything else, and it was coming from everywhere - from the audience below, from the people crowded onto the paddock club balconies on the left side of the stage area. She glanced at the LED screen behind her, which was playing a pre-filmed video loop of herself making various celebratory poses - she remembered when they filmed it during pre-season testing, and it felt silly then, because she didn’t think it would even be necessary. Well, she was wrong.

They introduced Lewis and Max next, and the Dutch and Austrian national anthems played. Shaquille O’Neal handed Max the first place trophy. She congratulated the Red Bull employee standing next to her on the constructor’s trophy. Lewis received his trophy, and finally, a man came over with the small statuette for her.

She raised it aloft, and it felt like she was lifting the weight of this season, the weight of her entire career - it was everything it represented. Her own expectations of herself, her desire to perform, her desire to show the people that supported her how much she appreciated it. It was all there now, in the form of a solid metallic statuette.

“And now… the champagne!”

She barely had time to react and put the trophy down and pick her victory bottle up. It didn’t matter anyway, Lewis and Max had done this dozens of times before and were far too quick on the draw. They had both set out to drench her, too. She thought she felt Lewis actually pouring the bottle down the back of her race suit. It was sticky and smelly, but it felt kind of good in the heat.

She did her best to return the spray, but it was too late. She showered the crowd below instead. From this vantage point, she could see the faces of everyone that was there for her. She could see her parents, she could see Emilia, she could see the Wolffs, she could see Claire. She smiled and waved to all of them as they smiled back up at her.

It was just like what she’d envisioned the night before, but it was even better, because it was real. It was her goal for the season, the line she’d been striving for, and she’d made it through it all - all of the terror, all of the beauty, both in equal measure.

Schönheit und Schrecken.

It was true that Rilke had said that no feeling was final, and this feeling wouldn’t be, either. She had a few races left for this season, and had already signed for another season. There would be terror. There would be triumph, so she hoped. There would be defeat. There would be anxiety and sadness.

But none of that was here, right now. All that was here, now, was a memory that she wanted to hold onto forever.

[cherry-leclerc]

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment. 

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone. 

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true. 

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers. 

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma. 

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second. 

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova��your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver. 

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice. 

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.” 

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger. 

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was.  He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?” 

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

-

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom. 

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water. 

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy. 

He’s a man.

“What do you say?” 

“Sorry?” 

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

-

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.” 

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors. 

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance. 

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away. 

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

-

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy. 

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated. 

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.” 

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled. 

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.” 

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

-

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof. 

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of. 

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there. 

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours. 

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola. 

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts. 

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose. 

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped. 

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog. 

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret. 

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

-

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening. 

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes. 

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?” 

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice. 

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress. 

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound. 

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders. 

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back. 

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

-

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much. 

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable. 

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer. 

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND. 

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you. 

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

-

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.” 

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.” 

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally. 

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least. 

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct. 

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him. 

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough. 

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band. 

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing. 

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.” 

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano. 

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips. 

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red. 

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry. 

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big.  “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once. 

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds. 

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure. 

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours. 

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle. 

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness. 

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end. 

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow. 

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual. 

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.” 

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?” 

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[futurewdclandonorris]

you look good on camera, baby, let's go make a film | Lando Norris⁴

“Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? You play with that thing too much lately.” "Would you rather I play with you instead?"

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Warnings: smut

Word count: 9356

Songs that really inspired me: Under The Influence, I Luv This Shit (Remix), Or Nah, Zayn - Sweat

With your feet in Lando's lap, you were laying on his couch watching television, his hand mindlessly massaging your foot. The sun was beginning to set, washing the living room in a golden light, the tv buzzing in the background and your occasional laughter interrupting the silence.

Lando’s touch was soothing, his fingers expertly finding all the right pressure points on your foot, but you didn’t mind that at all. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to spend lazy evenings like this at each other’s place, comfortable in each other's presence without the need for constant conversation.

“Are you seeing this?” you giggled, not tearing your eyes from the screen. Lando didn’t react.

That wasn’t the first time that evening that you said something and he completely ignored you. You shifted slightly, feeling a nudge of irritation prickling at your skin. Lando’s continued silence started grating on your nerves, the one-sided conversation gnawing at the edges of your patience.

“Are you even listening to me?” you nudged him with your foot, turning to face him.

“Hmm?” he hummed, giving your ankle a gentle squeeze and raising his eyebrows in your direction to let you know that he registered you this time.

You scoffed, seeing what was occupying his attention. “Can you leave your camera alone for five minutes? It’s like your third eye, I swear.”

Lando chuckled, but kept scrolling through the pictures. “Sorry. Just reviewing what we took today.”

Rolling your eyes, you propped yourself on your elbows. “You play with that thing too much lately.”

“Would you rather I play with you instead?” he raised his eyes, mischievous gleam in them, and smirked.

His fingers traveled up your calf, a heat rushing through you at his suggestive tone and touch causing a familiar swirl of butterflies in your belly. You cleared your throat and sat up properly, moving his hand away.

“Show me what you captured today,” you said, trying to steer the conversation back to normalcy. You knew that lingering in those moments would only complicate an already delicate dance happening between the two of you.

Lando's smirk widened at your reaction, his eyes shining with amusement, but leaned closer so you could see the screen better. The photographs flashed across the display – picturesque landscapes, candid shots of people in the streets, and close-ups of intricate details that caught Lando’s keen eye. You felt a sense of awe at the way he could turn the mundane into something breathtaking through his lens.

In one particular photo, a vibrant sunset painted the sky in an array of pinks and oranges, casting a warm glow over a quiet beach. The colors were so vivid, it felt like you could almost hear the waves crashing and feel the salty breeze on your skin.

Lost in the beauty of the photographs, you almost didn't notice Lando's hand inching back toward your leg, his touch light and teasing. You shot him a playful look, trying to maintain some semblance of composure despite the flutter of excitement building in your chest.

"Just focus on the pictures, Lando," you said with a laugh, swatting his hand away playfully. But he only grinned, his gaze flicking between the screen and you, a silent challenge in his eyes.

The next photo caught you both by surprise. More you than him. It was an explicit photo of Lando, wearing nothing but a mischievous smile, his eyes daring and playful. You gasped, turning away in shock at the unexpected image. Lando let out a hearty laugh at your reaction, clearly finding amusement in your flustered state.

“Oh, come on, y/n, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” he teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he looked at you expectantly.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and confusion, unsure of how to respond to the intimate photograph that had appeared out of nowhere.

“Well, yeah, but that was… private,” you managed to choke out, looking anywhere except at him or the screen.

Lando's laughter filled the room, a deep rumble that made your heart race even faster. He shifted closer, his hand resting on your knee as he tried to catch your gaze.

"Don't be shy, y/n. I’m sure you have taken a few risqué photos yourself,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Want to see them?” you side eyed him.

“I mean, if you’re offering—”

“I was joking, you muppet!” you turned to smack him across the chest, but Lando caught your hand before it made contact. His fingers intertwined with yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through you, the playful banter fading into something more charged and raw between you.

“Maybe I do have some photos,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But they're not for everyone to see.”

“What about a sex tape? Would you ever consider making one of those?” he asked, his voice low and eyes darkening. “I mean, since we're on the subject…” he cleared his throat.

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to process his words, the boundary between friendship and something more blurring with each passing second.

Lando's gaze bore into yours, searching for any hint of your true feelings. His thumb brushed over the back of your hand in a silent caress, his touch igniting a fire in your veins. You could feel the pull of attraction drawing you closer to him, tempting you to cross that line.

But as much as you wanted to explore this newfound tension, you pulled your hand out of his grasp. “I’m not sure, I don’t think I would want that.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and a bit of disappointment. “Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time we explored our boundaries.”

You paused, biting your lip as you considered his words. The thought of sharing something so intimate with him was both thrilling and terrifying. “I just don’t think I would look good, you know…”

“Are you kidding? You know you are the most beautiful person I have ever laid my eyes on.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the sincerity in his gaze stirring emotions you had long tried to suppress. The air crackled with anticipation, the weight of unspoken desires hanging between you like a heavy fog.

“I’ve taken pictures of you countless times and in each you look like a work of art,” he continued, his voice gentle caress that seeped into every pore.

“Yeah, but that was different… We were having fun… It wasn’t meant to be serious…”

“Why can’t it be serious?” Lando’s voice was soft, his eyes locked on yours with a vulnerability you had never seen before. The air in the room felt charged with emotions as he reached out to cup your cheek gently. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, awakening a longing you had buried deep within your heart.

You searched his eyes for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was unwavering sincerity and a hint of nervousness. In that moment, you realized that perhaps the unstated tension between you was mutual, a silent dance that had been playing out beneath the surface for longer than you had dared to admit.

“I… I never thought about it that way,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering close at the intimacy.

Lando’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch sending sparks through you as he drew closer, his gaze flicking back and forth between your eyes and lips. The room seemed to shrink around the two of you, the world outside fading into insignificance as you were lost in each other's gaze. You felt your resistance fading with each pass, as if their attraction was slowly but surely pulling you under.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You know, y/n, I’ve always imagined watching you in a moment like this,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, “capturing your beauty on film in a way that only I can see.”

You shivered as his breath ghosted over your skin, the intensity of the moment leaving you reeling. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Lando’s eyes locked with yours, his tone growing more earnest. “Taking pictures of you, ones that only I get to see, ones that no one else gets to touch or look at without your permission.”

You gulped, your heart pounding with equal parts fear and excitement. This was a line you had never dared to cross before, and yet, Lando's words had a way of making anything seem possible.

Lando smiled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Pictures that capture the essence of you, the real you," he said quietly. "The sides of you that you show only to me."

You bit your lip, feeling a flutter in your chest. This was an intimate proposition, one that made you feel both vulnerable and empowered. "And what would be the point of that?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Lando's gaze held yours, his expression serious yet filled with desire. "The point would be to immortalize you, to capture the essence of who you are in a way that words can never fully express. I want to show you how beautiful you are through my eyes, how every smile, every glance, every moment we share is a masterpiece waiting to be unveiled. And I want a collection of memories that belong only to me, ones that I can look back on and remember the moments that you shared with me."

Your heart raced as you considered his proposal. The idea of Lando capturing your nature in a way that only he could see was both enticing and terrifying. But the thought of being the sole muse for his art, the one person he would hold close in his heart, was a powerful draw.

"I'm not sure I can do that," you replied hesitantly, "but I can try."

Lando's eyes lit up with exhilaration, his smile growing wider. "We'll start with the simplest things, the little quirks that make you unique. Then we'll move on to more intimate moments. I promise to never push you too far or make you uncomfortable. We'll do this together."

You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was a new adventure and you were unsure of what lay ahead. But you were ready to take that leap with Lando by your side.

"Alright, deal," you said with a shy smile. "But promise me that you won't share these photos with anyone. They're for your eyes only."

Lando's eyes softened, his expression turning sincere. "I promise, y/n. We'll do this together, at your pace, and I'll make sure to always respect your boundaries."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest. This was a bold move, but you trusted Lando. You knew that he would never do anything to hurt you.

"Alright," you said, feeling a sense of determination. "Let's do this."

Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was soft and sweet, his lips like clouds. The world around you faded away as you melted into him, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost in a moment that felt like it would never end.

Lando pulled back and his eyes locked with yours. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt and with a silent permission he pulled it over your head, revealing the vulnerable beauty beneath. Your skin tingled as his gaze traced every inch of you, his camera forgotten as he captured each moment with his eyes. The room seemed to hum with a quiet intensity as he leaned in to press kisses along your collarbone, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path.

You felt the weight of his wishes pressing against you, a silent plea for more as he whispered words of adoration against your skin. Your doubts and fears melted away in the heat of the moment, leaving only raw passion and longing behind.

As Lando's hands roamed over your body, every touch electric and searing, you realized that this was where you were meant to be. In his arms, exposed and vulnerable yet safe and cherished in a way you had never known before.

The room was filled with the sound of the camera shutter, immortalizing the intimate moments between you, and you surrendered yourself completely to the unknown, knowing Lando is there to guide you. You felt naked under his gaze, as if his lens had stripped away every layer of your clothing and left you uncovered to his unbridled desire. 

Your breath caught in your throat as Lando's hand grazed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The light from the camera flickered across your face, casting shadows and highlighting the contours of your features. It was surreal, to feel like you were being transformed into a work of art, a masterpiece crafted with love and longing.

He kissed your chest and you reached for his shirt, unfurling the fabric to reveal the body that had been hiding beneath. Lando's muscles rippled as he stretched, hinting at a strength that belied his gentle demeanor. The sight stole your breath, your heart beating faster with each passing moment.

The air grew thick with anticipation, the scent of his skin mingling with the heady emotions that filled the room. You felt yourself being pulled into a world where art and desire intertwined, and knew that the line between reality and fantasy had blurred.

With a deep breath, you met Lando's eyes, trusting him as you had never trusted anyone before. He smiled softly, his gaze filled with warmth and understanding. He held a side of your face, kissing your lips gently, his touch feather-light and tender. You felt a wave of affection wash over you, and you knew that this moment was more than just a passing fancy. This was for real, and you were ready to embrace it.

"I'm ready," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, your eyes locked with his as you gave him permission to continue.

Lando's lips found their way to your neck, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of your collarbone, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ear. You felt a shiver of desire course through your body, and you knew that this was what you had been waiting for.

"You're mine, you know that?" he murmured, his voice low and throaty, his breath hot against your skin. "You're my muse, my inspiration…”

He guided you to lay on the couch as he spoke, your bare skin glistening in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Lando's eyes never left your face as he positioned you, adjusting the pillows behind your back to make you comfortable.

He moved to the other side of the room, the camera in his hands. You could see the longing in his eyes, the want to capture every inch of you in his lens. He looked at you again, his gaze lingering on your lips, your eyes, the curve of your neck.

Taking a deep breath, he began to capture you. The first shot was of your face, your eyes wide with anticipation, your lips parted in a gentle smile. The second was of your neck, the delicate arc of your throat revealed, your skin glowing in the orange light. The third was of your chest, your breasts rising and falling with each breath, your skin flushed with craving.

“Perfect,” he whispered and lowered the camera.

He was on top of you now, straddling you, but careful not to put all his weight on you. He used his body to block out the rest of the world, leaving only the two of you in this intimate moment. He leaned down, kissing your lips softly, his tongue brushing against your bottom lip, coaxing it open. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to enter, exploring the depths of yours, tasting you. His hands were on your waist, his fingers tracing the curves of your hips, your waist, your sides, discovering your body, learning its contours.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in between kisses, his voice breathless.

His eyes lingered on you in a way that made you feel exposed, yet safe. He dipped his head and bit the spot where your neck and shoulder connected. You gasped, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through your body. Lando's lips were warm against your skin, his breath sending tremors through your body.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured against your shoulder, taking off the strap of your bra. "You have no idea how much..."

He trailed off, his words stolen by the kiss he pressed against your lips. His hand slid up your side, his fingertips brushing the edge of your bra. You could feel your nipples hardening under the fabric, aching for his touch.

"Lando..." you called, your voice barely audible.

Lando's hand moved to your throat, his fingers gently caressing your skin as he looked up at you. "I want to see you," he said softly, "let me see you."

You nodded, unable to speak as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He continued to bite and kiss the sensitive skin of your neck as he reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. You could feel the need building in him, the need to possess you, to claim you as his own.

Lando's fingers finally released the clasp, and your bra slipped off, leaving you exposed to his gaze. His eyes widened at the sight of your breasts, the hardened nipples standing at attention, begging for his. You could see the want in his eyes, the hunger to devour every inch of you.

He reached for his camera on the table and straightened on his knees above you. He adjusted the focus, making sure to catch every detail of your skin's smoothness, your aroused nipples, and the flush of aspiration on your cheeks.

With the camera in one hand and his free hand on your chest, he leaned in to take a close-up of your nipples, his lips brushing against your skin as he did so. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

As the camera shutter clicked, he moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers over your stomach, your hips, and down to your thighs. He spread your legs slightly, giving himself a better view of you, a better angle for his camera. He took another photograph, capturing your legs spread, your hips slightly arched, inviting him in.

Then he handed the camera to you. You took it hesitantly, unsure what to do with it. Lando smiled reassuringly at you and placed his hand over yours, guiding your fingers to the shutter button.

“Would you film while I suck on your tits?”

His words made you shiver, making you both nervous and excited. You nodded, taking a deep breath and pressing the button, starting to film the moment you had been waiting for.

His hands traced the valley of your breasts, his fingers lightly brushing over your nipples, sending shivers of pleasure racing across your skin. You arched into his touch, your hips rising to meet his, your body crying out for more.

He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin, and caught one nipple in his mouth. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward as he sucked and licked, your body arching towards him. His other hand slid down your body, his fingers tracing your hip, your thigh, your knee.

He alternated between sucking and biting, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud. You felt your body respond, your nipples hardening even more under his attention. You moaned, your hand reaching down to grip his hair, pulling him closer.

As he moved to your other nipple, his teeth grazed your skin, leaving a faint mark. You gasped, the sensation sending waves of pleasure-pain coursing through you, your core clenching in response.

His hands moved to your waist, his fingers gently digging into your skin, gripping you tightly. You could feel his passion, his need for you, the way he wanted to devour you in every way possible.

"Do you like that?" he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, your body begging for more. "Yes," you breathed out.

Lando smiled, his eyes gleaming with hunger. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, his tongue darting out to lick some more.

You moaned quietly, your body quivering with each touch, each lick, each suck, each bite. He moved lower, his hands sliding down your body, his lips tracing the line of your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You could feel his breath against your skin, the anticipation building with each move.

He sat back on his knees, hands hooking on the waistband of your shorts and sliding them down your legs. He raised your left leg up and rested it on his shoulder, kissing the inside of your ankle and making his way up. Your skin was soft and warm under his touch, his lips trailing up your ankle, your calf, your knee.

You were nervous but also aroused by his touch, feeling your yearning building with each kiss and caress, each soft word whispered in your ear. You could feel his arousal, the hardness of his erection pressing against your thigh, and it sent a jolt of excitement through your body.

He gently kissed your inner thigh, his tongue dipping into the soft flesh, causing you to gasp. He pulled back once more, doing the same to your other leg. His attention was now solely on you, and the expectation was almost unbearable. You could hardly breathe as he continued to kiss and caress your legs, building the tension between you. Finally, he reached the apex of your desire, the junction where your legs met, and he dipped his head to his prize.

"Open up for me," he said softly, his eyes locked on your now damp panties.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but then you nodded, spreading your legs wider for him. You could feel his breath on your skin, the warmth of his body against yours, and the prediction of what was to come.

His hands gently cupped your hips, guiding his head closer to your arousal. "I want to taste you," he said, almost reverently.

You closed your eyes and shivered, feeling his hot breath against your sensitive skin. He teased you, blowing softly, causing your hips to thrust upward, seeking his touch. He laughed softly and backed away once more.

“Not here. Come,” he said, standing up and extending a hand to help you up.

You took his hand, feeling weak in the chest from the intensity of the moment. You both walked towards the table, the camera still in your hands, documenting every step.

“Lean on the edge,” he instructed, constructing the scene and sank to his knees.

You did as he asked, your hand gripping the edge as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel his hot breath on your thighs, making you breathe heavily.

"Move your panties to the side," he directed, his voice low and seductive. You obeyed, sliding the damp fabric aside, exposing yourself to him.

Then his tongue darted out, teasing you, licking the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. You moaned softly, your hips bucking forward, seeking more of his touch. He laughed softly, his hands gripping your thighs as he continued to tease you, his tongue tracing patterns on your skin. You felt your need building, the anticipation making you wetter, your juices trickling down the inside of your thighs.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice deep.

You nodded, unable to speak. Your entire body was screaming for his touch, for his lips, for his tongue. He leaned in, his tongue dipping into your folds, swirling around your delicate skin and licking up and down with the skill of an expert. You moaned, your body arching into his face, your hips bucking against his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned against your skin, his tongue plunging inside you.

You were lost in the moment, your body trembling with need as he tested your boundaries, exploring every inch of you. With your free hand, you reached down to grip his shoulder, pulling him closer, needing him more than ever before. His hands gripped your hips tightly, steadying you.

"You taste so good. So sweet, so wet," you could feel the heat of his breath against your pussy, the soft rustle of his hair against your thighs.

His tongue continued its tour, flicking against your sensitive flesh, his fingers gently caressing your hips. You could feel the tension building within you, the desire for him to take you over the edge.

But Lando was not in a hurry. He wanted to savor every moment, every touch, every taste. He moved his fingers to your clit, gently stroking it with the tip of his finger, causing you to arch into his touch.

“You like that?” he whispered, his voice hot.

“Y-yes,” you moaned back.

“I’m going to make you cum,”

You gasped, one hand gripping his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more, and the other holding the camera, recording every moment.

He moaned, the taste of you driving him wild. He licked and sucked gently, exploring every inch of your folds, his tongue probing deeper, his fingers gently parting you, giving himself better access to your most sensitive spots.

You moaned loudly, your hips bucking forward, your body responding to his touch, your mind lost in the pleasure of his seductive advances. You could feel your arousal building, the tension between your legs growing stronger with each touch, each lick, each suck.

He slid a finger inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit in a slow, steady rhythm. You cried out, your body arching towards him, your hips bucking as he stroked you deeper, his fingers inspecting your inner depths. Your mind was consumed with the sensations, the pleasure building to a crescendo within you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you whimpered, your fingers digging into his hair, urging him on.

He smiled around your wet folds, raising his eyes and locking them with yours and not with the camera lens. He added another finger, stretching you just enough to send you over the edge.

You cried out, your body tensing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, your hips bucking wildly, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You felt like you were flying and floating and everything was blurry and burning and perfect.

He continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of pleasure from you, his fingers moving in sync with his mouth, driving you higher and higher with each stroke.

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting and breathless, your body trembling with aftershocks and your hands shaking. He continued to hold you, his hand gently caressing your hip. You could feel the moisture seeping from between your legs, staining his fingers.

He pulled back, his face dripping with your juices, and looked up at you with craving in his eyes. You could see the wild animal in him, the hunger for you, the need to have you. You could hardly believe what had just happened. You had never felt such desire, such want, such pleasure before. You felt alive, you felt wild, and you felt so, so loved.

He stood up and guided your hand to the bulge in his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. He thrust forward, his pulse beating wildly against your palm. You could feel the heat of his erection through the material of his sweatpants, and the pulse between your legs again.

"Are you ready for the next part?" he asked, cupping your face and kissing you deeply.

You nodded, gasping for air as his kisses became more fervent. He helped you to stand, your legs still shaking from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you couldn't deny the excitement coursing through your veins.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, taking the camera from you.

“No,” you said, making him raise an eyebrow.

Instead, you took him by the shoulders and swapped places with him so that he was now leaning on the edge of the table. Neither of you could take your eyes off each other as you inched closer, his erection straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“I want to give you a good time too,” you murmured, kissing the side of his neck, your hand trailing down his chest until you took a palmful of his cock.

His breath hitched, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and head thrown back, eyes closed. You peppered the line of his neck with kisses, dragging your tongue down the curve of his shoulders, before reaching his collarbones. Your fingers teased him, lightly stroking his length and feeling it twitch under your touch.

“Please, baby,” he growled, clutching at the edge of the table and arching his hips towards your hand. “Need you to touch me.”

You couldn’t resist his plea, your hand gripping his erection more firmly, stroking him slowly and watching as his eyes fluttered open, dark and needy. Your other hand traced the outline of his hip, skimming over the waistband of his sweats and glorying in the feel of his hardness beneath your fingers.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he breathed, eyes locked on your fingers as they moved.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips against his ear. “Do you want me to take it off?”

"Uh huh," he nodded, his breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Words, Lando. I need you to use words," you were demanding, but gentle.

He gulped before responding, sounding breathless. “Yes, please."

You smirked against his chest and began pathing your way down with kisses. You settled on your knees, your fingers dug into the waistband of his sweats.

"Turn the camera on, you will not want to miss a moment of this,” you told him.

You pulled them down slowly, almost irritatingly so just to tease him some more. The whole time you were keeping eye contact, licking your lips and watching him squirm and take deep breaths.

Next were his boxers. You latched your teeth on the edge of the waistband and slowly, ever so slowly, pulled them down. His cock sprang out, hard and throbbing, the head glistening with pre-cum.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he muttered, holding the camera with both hands to steady it as he watched you.

You licked your lips again, staring at his erection and the dark, pulsing head. You reached out and wrapped your fingers around it, pumping it slowly, watching as his hips bucked involuntarily.

“Was that good?” you asked, your voice low and sultry.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your hand. “God, yes.”

"You're so hard for me," you whispered, kissing the head gently as you watched him squirm. And you knew exactly what to do to make him even harder.

You took him in your hand, your palm wrapping around his length, your fingers stroking him from base to tip. You watched as a drop of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you used your thumb to smear it around, slicking him up. Lando moaned loudly, his head dropping back as you continued to stroke him, your hand matching the rhythm of his breaths. You reached into your mouth and began to lick and flick your tongue over the sensitive underside of his cock, his length twitching in response. 

"Mmm, so sweet," you moaned around his shaft, the taste making your saliva flow. You took him deeper into your mouth, sucking him down until the tip hit the back of your throat. He groaned, his hand grabbing your hair and pulling you closer, driving his cock deeper into your mouth.

You pulled back, your teeth scraping over his sensitive head, earning you another growl from him. You teased him with your tongue, swirling it around the delicate tip while pumping his shaft with your hand. His hips bucked, and hand tightened in your hair.

You moaned around him, feeling the power that this simple act of pleasure held over him. He groaned, thrusting his hips forward as you put him back into your mouth, taking him deep until your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, his hand gripping the back of your head, wanting you even deeper. You pulled back, sucking him off with a pop, the sound echoing in the room. His cock twitched, getting harder, more sensitive with every stroke.

“God, you look so pretty sucking my cock,” he growled, his eyes locked on your face as you continued to stroke him and hollow out his thoughts.

You didn't miss a beat, your hand moving in sync with your mouth as you suckled his length, feeling his cock pulse in your hand. You could feel his desire building, feel him reaching for that point of no return. And you wanted to be there when he crossed that line.

“Look at me, baby, look at the camera with your pretty eyes while my cock’s in your mouth,” he commanded, his voice raw and needy.

You lifted your eyes to meet the camera lens, your gaze unwavering as you continued to suck on his cock, your other hand still pumping him rhythmically. You could feel his thighs trembling, his hips bucking, and his grip on your hair stronger.

“That’s it, take my whole cock,” he growled, his voice a mixture of pleasure and dominance. “Look at you, sucking me off like a pro. Such a good girl.”

You took him in deeper, praise giving you a new surge of confidence, your throat stretching to accommodate his girth, and your eyes watering from the sensation. You could feel the veins throbbing under your lips, and the taste of his precum glistening on your tongue.

“Don’t be shy, lick my balls too,” he said, taking his cock out of your mouth.

You eagerly complied, lowering your head towards his balls, kissing, licking and nibbling gently. He moaned loudly, his hands gripping your hair tighter as you took his balls into your mouth, sucking and releasing, creating a soft slurping sound as you did so.

"Oh fuck, yes," he groaned, his hips rocking back and forth in time with your mouth. "Suck on them harder, baby."

You obliged, taking his balls in your mouth and sucking on them deeply while his cock throbbed above you. You could feel him getting closer, his body stiffening and his breathing quickening.

“Mmm... fuck, you’re so good at this,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “I’m gonna cum soon. Are you ready for it?”

You knew what he needed, so you went back to work, taking his cock into your mouth once more. You sucked and licked, and your hand stroked him vigorously. Your saliva mixed with his precum, making your mouth slick and warm.

“Oh fuck, right there, that’s it, baby,” he panted, his body shuddering. “You’re going to make me cum so hard.”

You increased your pace, your mouth swallowing him down.

“Are you going to cum on my tits?” You asked, raising your eyes from the camera lens to look into his.

He smirked, "No, I want to see you take it down your throat."

You swallowed hard, nodding as you removed your mouth from his cock and backed away slightly. His cock, glistening with a mix of saliva and pre-cum, stood at attention, twitching softly.

You took it in your hand and rubbed the sensitive head between your fingers, watching your spit glisten on the tip. He moaned softly, his hips bucking as you slowly brought it to your lips. You ran your tongue over the tip, savoring the taste of his pre-cum, before taking him into your mouth. You slowly slid down his length, taking him deeper with each swallow.

He let out a low groan, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him further and further. When your nose was pressed against his pubic hair, he let out a strangled cry and thrust his hips forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat. His cum erupted from him, a torrent of hot, salty jets that coated your tongue and filled your throat. You choked back a reflexive gag, your eyes watering with the sensation, but held on, swallowing the thick, ropy liquid until he was spent.

You pulled away, your lips plump and glistening with his cum, and hooked a finger under your chin to wipe away the excess. For a moment, you just looked at him, your eyes locked with his, your chests heaving as you both caught your breaths.

He reached down and wiped away the remaining cum from your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. There was a moment of stillness, a sense of completion and satisfaction in the air.

"Fuck, that was amazing," he panted, his hand still in your hair.

You smiled, your eyes glinting with mischief. "Not done yet," you whispered, reaching up to kiss his lips, the taste of cum still on your tongue.

The two of you shared a long, lingering kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues as passion still simmered between you. His hand moved down to your chest, brushing over your breast, his fingers playing with your nipple.

You broke the kiss, your eyes still locked with his. "Come with me," you purred, a smirk playing on your lips.

You led him to the bed, your movements confident and sultry. He followed you, his eyes never leaving your body, his hunger for you palpable.

“I want to sit on your face, and I want to film it.” you announced, your voice low and seductive. Not even you knew from where this newfound confidence came from, but you let it wash over you, feeling empowered and desirable. And you wanted to explore this side of you further.

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and excitement, clearly not expecting this sudden turn of events.

"Are you sure?" he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

"Absolutely," you replied, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "I want to see your face when you're pleasuring me.”

“Wow, look at you. I thought you were camera shy, but here you are directing me around,” he teased, a playful smile spreading across his face.

"Get on the bed, on your back," you instructed, taking off your panties, your voice now firm and commanding. He did as you instructed, spreading out on the bed with a cheeky grin on his face.

You climbed onto the bed, straddling him and positioning yourself above his face. Your hips swayed as you watched him watch you, his eyes never leaving your face. You held the camera in front of you, making sure it was centered on his face and capturing every detail of his expression. You could feel his breath against your most intimate parts, a gentle reminder of what was to come.

“Ready, set…”

Instantly his mouth met your cunt, his tongue darting out to tease your clit before delving inside, tasting your sweetness. You moaned softly, your hips bucking in time with his mouth. He sucked and licked, his hands stroking your thighs, his eyes never leaving the lens. It was like a dance, your movements in sync with his, each touch and stroke building the momentum.

The camera captured it all - your gasping, your moaning, and the way your body arched as his tongue dug deeper. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked on your clit and your legs shook, your whole body trembling as pleasure coursed through you. You could feel him growing more confident with every passing second, his tongue moving in a rhythm that drove you wild.

“Harder,” you demanded, your voice strained with lust. “Fuck me with that tongue.”

He complied, his tongue thrusting in and out of you, his lips sucking and pulling right where you needed the most. Each touch sent shivers through your body, the tension building and the release just around the corner.

“I’m so close, baby,” you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered, the sensation overwhelming. He didn’t, his tongue flicking and probing, his hand going up your waist, now reaching to cup your breasts, his fingers twirling and pinching your nipples.

You gripped at his hair, giving yourself some more balance as you started grinding on his face. He moaned against your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your body.

“Mm, that’s right, baby. Ride my face.” he muffled, one hand falling to your hip and the other slapping your ass, encouraging you further.

You looked at him, breath catching in your throat at the sight. His green eyes filled with such lust and wildness that you wanted to take a picture and carry it in your wallet if it were any appropriate. And that was just enough to send you overboard.

He held your hips firmly as you spasmed over his face, his mouth continuing to devour you. Your moans turned to screams, and he licked and sucked at your sensitive spots, not letting any drop of pleasure from you go to waste. His hands roamed your body until you finally collapsed on top of him, breathless and drained.

You lay there for a moment, camera dropped on the mattress, your cheeks flushed and heart pounding. You looked down at him, his face glistening with your juices and smiled. He looked up at you, his eyes filled with satisfaction and gave you a smirk. Slowly, you climbed off him and he sat up, and you kissed him, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips, his rough beard stubble scraping against your skin.

“I’m ready. I want you now,” you murmured against his mouth.

He smiled, a devilish grin spreading across his face. “Get on your hands and knees then,”

You complied way too eagerly, positioning yourself just as he wanted, ass up in the air and back arched. He crawled behind you, his cock hard and ready again. He slapped your ass, the sting of his hand sending a new wave of drive coursing through you.

“Are you dripping for me?” he leaned to whisper in your ear, his breath making you shudder. You moaned in response, the desire too intense.

“Oh yes, you are,” he said for you, running his fingers through your folds.

He slid his cock into you from behind, filling you up in a single, powerful thrust. Your moan turned to a growl as he began to move, his hand gripping your hips tightly. You could feel his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust, and the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

“Harder!” you urged, your body begging for me.

Obliging, his thrust became rougher, your skin slapping against his. He filmed as he pounded you, the camera capturing every movement, every expression on your face as you turned to look at him over your shoulder, every bead of sweat that dripped down your skin. His thrusts grew harder and faster, animalistic in their intensity. Your breath was coming in short, sharp gasps as he hit you deeper, your body quivering.

“Lando, I’m going to cum,” you panted.

He grunted and took a handful of your hair, and yanked you towards him, making you yelp. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped his now free hand around your throat as he continued to drill into you. You could hear his heavy breaths, feel his heart racing against your back. Your mind was on fire, adrenaline coursing through your veins. With another deep and forceful thrust, he suddenly pushed you off his cock. Then, he laid on the bed.

“Get on top of me,” he ordered.

You wasted no time climbing on top of him, your body trembling with satisfaction, but aching for more. You straddled his hips, both of you watching as you lowered yourself on his thick cock. He groaned as you impaled yourself on him, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer to him. The sensation of being filled again was both intense and pleasurable and you couldn’t help but moan as your body began to move in sync with his.

Your hips undulated, your tits bouncing and jiggling with every thrust. You could feel his eyes on you, the camera back in his hands and the hunger and desire never waning. He let you take control, and you began to move faster, your excitement building with each second. Your body was aching for release, but you held on, savoring the moment. You could hear his breath hitching, his body straining to keep up with you.

Your movements became more erratic, your pace quickening as you neared the edge. The thrusts became deep and hard, your ass slapping against his thighs with each impact. You held onto his shoulders for support, the sensation of his hand gripping your flesh only fueling you more. But in all that ecstasy, you lost your balance and collapsed onto his chest, your hips never ceasing to grind on him.

He wrapped his arm around you, holding you close as you shuddered and trembled in his embrace. “Easy, babe,” he whispered, a smirk evident in his voice.

You moaned into his neck and straightened up again. You began slowly rocking your hips back and forth, sitting fully on his cock.

“That’s right, baby, ride me for a bit,” he whispered, running his hand down your spine.

You smirked and leaned down, placing a kiss on his lips before grinding your hips against him in a slow and sensual rhythm. Your breasts jiggled with each movement, and he followed every sway through the lens.

“Look at you. Aren’t you a goddess, huh?” he said, his green eyes never leaving your body as his fingers continued to roam your skin. Your movements became hypnotic, each gentle rock increased the pressure on his cock, making him groan with pleasure.

“A goddess sitting on her throne.” he propped himself up, trailing kisses down your neck, his fingers digging into your hip. You could feel his cock pulsating against your sensitive spots, reminding you of how much more he wanted.

“Time to show me what you got,” he whispered and laid back on the pillows.

You leaned back on your hands, angling yourself perfectly over him, both of you gazing into each other’s eyes. You gave him a full display of your cunt and slowly started going up and down on his cock, his hand pulling you closer each time you descended onto him. You increased your movements, your tits bouncing wildly with each bump. He matched your energy, propping his hips up to meet yours.

You moaned and grunted, your body trembling with each thrust. His eyes were intently focused on your body, capturing every detail for the camera. He reached up and pinched your sensitive nipples, making you cry out in pleasure.

Lowering his hand, he started rubbing circles on your clit with his thumb. Your body buckled under his touch, your moans growing louder and your movements becoming erratic. He could feel your walls pulsating around him and he knew that this wasn’t going to last much longer. Throwing the camera away, he wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you onto his chest. You fell without resistance and he took control, fucking into you from below.

“I can feel you getting close,” he said, his voice ragged.

“Uh huh,” you gasped, your voice caught in your throat.

“Not yet, baby,” and in one swift motion, he flipped you over onto your back. Your legs fell apart and he thrust into you with a deep groan. He leaned down, kissing you hard, his tongue darting into your mouth, tasting you, consuming you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him deeper, not letting him stop, feeling his cock sliding in and out of you with a slick, wet sound.

His hands wandered over your body, his mouth attached to your breast and fingers teasing your clit. You cried out with every move, your body trembling, your desire reaching its peak. He could feel your juices flowing, slicking his cock, coating your bodies. He thrust into you harder, faster, his eyes locked on yours.

He was dominating you, he was possessing you and you loved every second of it. You loved the way he made you feel, the power he exuded and above all, you loved the pleasure and satisfaction he was giving you.

“Are you going to cum?” he asked, eyes blazing.

“I’m so close, Lan,” you moaned and whined, your whole body tightening as you neared your end.

“Hold it,” he groaned, his hips still pistoning into you with a fierce determination.

“I don’t know how much longer I can—”

“I’m going to give you a countdown,” he growled, his breath becoming ragged and hot against your neck.

“Ten,” he whispered, thrusting deeper into your pulsating pussy. Your breath hitched as you waited with bated breath.

“Nine,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hip and pulling you closer.

“Eight,” he growled, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back his own release. You felt the tension building within you, the lust and desire coursing through your veins, making you moan and buck your hips.

“Seven,” he hissed, his mouth closing over yours in a searing kiss as his hips pressed against you. You groaned into his mouth, your hips bucking temporarily out of control as the sensation of his tongue dueling with yours sent shivers down your spine.

“Six,” he moaned, finding your hips again and slamming into you, his rough moans echoing in your ears as he fought to hold back his own climax. You could feel the tension in his body, the desperation that threatened to consume him.

“Five,” he panted, his eyes locked on yours, his hands gripping your ass and pulling you even closer.

“Four,” he breathed, his hips bucking wildly, his cock slamming into you with a fierce intensity.

“Three,” he growled, his passion and desire coursing through his veins, his body shaking with the need to release.

“Two,” he hissed, the muscles in his arms and legs tensing as he held himself back from cumming.

“Almost there,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

“Not yet,” he groaned, his hips never faltering in their rhythm. “One more.”

“One more,” you agreed, your body trembling, your pussy pulsating around his cock.

“One. Now, baby. Cum around me,” and then, just as you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he began to thrust harder, faster, his eyes locked with yours as he pushed you right to the edge.

You threw your head back, your eyes rolling up in sheer bliss of the orgasm taking over. Your muscles tightened around him, milking for every ounce of pleasure he could give. He grew more aggressive, thrusting into you with abandon, your orgasm triggering his own.

“I’m going to cum,” he grunted, his body shuddering with the force of his release.

You reached for the camera, ready to capture the moment forever, but he got a hold of your wrist and pinned it down.

“Leave it,” he gasped, his eyes glazed over.

“I thought you wanted to record this?” you panted, struggling to keep up with his intense pace.

He shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. His hand slid into yours and interlocked your fingers together. “I want to remember this through my eyes. I want it to stay only in my mind, forever.”

And with that, he pulled out and spilled all over your stomach. You laid there, panting and spent, his cum drying on your skin and you found yourself in awe of the experience that just happened between the two of you. A rush of adrenaline and pleasure coursed through your veins, making you feel alive and invigorated.

Lando laid beside you, his eyes still glazed over from his intense orgasm. He reached down and wiped the cum off of your stomach, then slowly started stroking your thigh. “Was everything okay?”

You gazed into his eyes and traced your fingers along his jawline. “It was incredible, Lando. I’ve never felt so alive.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His voice was a gentle purr, and he leaned in to nibble on your earlobe. “Maybe next time we’ll try something different. You know, switch it up and keep things interesting.”

“Next time?” you playfully raised your eyebrow. “Who said there’s going to be a next time?”

Lando chuckled, his hand drifting down to your firm ass, squeezing it lightly. "Oh, there will definitely be a next time. You can't resist me, sweetheart."

You smiled coyly, playing along. “In your dreams, Norris.”

He chuckled at your playful banter, his hand still firmly on your ass. “We’ll see about that, babe.” He leaned in closer, his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver. “But for now, I think it’s time for a little aftercare.”

He rolled off of you, his arms still wrapped around your waist. You sat up, your body still pulsating from the intense sex, and looked at him. He was still panting, his eyes locked onto your body, his arousal still prominent. He pulled you into his embrace, his hands gently caressing your back, his breath warm on your neck.

“I can’t believe we did that,” you whispered, still in awe of the intensity of the experience.

“Do you want to review the footage?” Lando asked, breaking the sweet moment.

“Yeah, we could do that,”

He nodded, breaking the embrace and reaching for the camera. He scrolled through the footage, stopping at the part where you were on top of him.

“Look at that,” he said, a proud smile on his face. “You were incredible.”

He kept scrolling, stopping at the part where he took you from behind. He played it back, and you couldn’t help but watch in amazement.

“Who knew you were so kinky?” you teased, laughing at the sight of your own flexibility.

He grinned, still looking at the footage. “I think I knew all along. But it's nice to see you let loose.”

You glanced at the screen, your cheeks flushing a little at the sight of your body, your moans, and the way you surrendered to him. You felt a wave of pride and satisfaction wash over you, knowing that you had given him a performance that you both could remember forever.

“I had a lot of fun,” you admitted, still laughing.

He handed you the camera, and you scrolled through the footage. You stopped at the part where he was on top of you, his eyes locked onto yours, and you felt the rush of adrenaline all over again.

“I never knew I could feel this way,” you whispered, a tear escaping from the corner of your eye. “With you.”

He leaned over, wiping away your tear with his thumb, his eyes filled with tenderness and love.

“You can feel any way you want to,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “As long as it’s with me.”

He pulled you into a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming over your body once again, reminding you of the intense pleasure and connection you had just shared. And he was right - you could feel anything you wanted to, as long as it was with him.

[norrisjpg]

novacane - ʟɴ⁴

in which, lando is completely and utterly obsessed with his girlfriend, and can't seem to keep his hands off of her - especially when she's in that dress.

contains: NSFW; smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, body worship, p in v, unprotected sex, squirting, cockwarming; tiny bit of fluff at the end.

lando norris x unnamed female character

...

...

lando thought he was actually going to die. there in rome, he was sure of it. they had been together for two years at this point, and don't get him wrong, she always looked good - but something about the air in rome was making him fall in love with her all over again, and he was going feral.

the couple had decided to spend a few days in italy together, first venice, second maranello, and last rome.

venice had been brilliant, spending a few days with max and pietra, exploring the city together, and many other late night activities. maranello had been nothing if not wholesome, that being where his beloved girlfriend's family lived - lando having rekindled his bromance with her dad and older brother, and not to mention seeing his favourite dog again.

"can you help me with my heels, baby?" her voice snapped him out of his trance.

fucking hell.

she had walked out of the bathroom, looking like a divine treat for him to devour. it was a sundress - her sundresses always did unholy things to him - of course, and her tanned skin looked particularly endearing against the flimsy white material.

his mouth hung agape, eyes flitting over her body rapidly. his mouth could have (and almost did) water at the sight of his girlfriend, looking oh-so-innocent with her pretty eyes and glossy lips.

again, lando thought he was actually going to die.

"yeah, come here." lando gestured with his fingers, getting up so she could perch on the edge of the bed.

he got to his knees before her, grabbing her ankle gently and delicately tightened the clasp until it clung to her skin snugly, repeating the same action on her other ankle.

"thankyou, sweetheart." she responded, running her fingers through his hair briefly.

yep, he was definitely going to die.

...

if he thought he was going to die earlier, he was dead now.

she was sat there, fiddling with the necklace he'd bought her a few months ago, blinking at him through her lashes as she spoke about their plans for the rest of the summer break.

he could have actually fall to his knees in the restaurant right there and then - she looked utterly and completely irresistible.

"can we go now, please?" lando pleaded for around the third time.

he had asked her after they had finished his main course, and then after they'd finished their desserts, and now when they were having another drink.

"god, what's gotten into you?" she laughed as she swallowed the remainder of her wine.

"nothing, i just want to go home." he shrugged, trying not to let her onto the fact he was planning every single thing he was going to do to her once that hotel room door was closed.

"okay, weirdo." she shook her head with another laugh, before politely asking for the bill.

technically, it was her turn to pay for dinner - but lando never let her pay anyway. his credit card was being swiped across the card machine before she could even get hers out of her purse.

"let's go, come on."

...

as soon as that hotel door had latched shut behind her, lando turned into some sort of rabid animal with no self control.

she found herself pinned up against the door very quickly, dress bunched up at her hips as he began his assault on her neck.

“god… needed you since i seen you earlier.” lando murmured, hoisting her legs up around his waist.

“yeah?” she nodded, arching her eyebrows as her eyes fluttered shut.

“mhm.” he hummed, his hand shifting to her lower back as she was then moved to her feet. “look so pretty — turn around for me?”

she spun her heel slowly, allowing lando to effortlessly pull on the delicate white bow, the thin straps loosening and falling below her shoulders. his hand trailed back down her arms, pulling the dress down and allowing it to fall to a puddle at their feet.

“so gorgeous.” he whispered, hot breath fanning the back of her shoulder — before his hands whipped her around to face him again.

"you think?" she responded quietly.

"of course, pretty girl." he pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, before spinning her round and walking her backwards to the bed - eye contact very, very intense.

a gentle shove rendered her flat on the bed, propped up on her elbows shortly after her back hit the soft mattress. just as he'd done earlier, lando dropped to his knees and now started to remove her heels.

god, she looked divine.

she was now only wearing the prettiest white lace underwear, but lando was trying not to focus on it - due to the fact that he was painfully hard, and that if he looked at her, all of his self-control would fly out of the hotel door (not that she would have minded that.)

a quick toss of the heels behind him made soft thuds in the room, but lando was already softly kissing up from her ankle to her inner thighs, rendering her unable to think about anything else.

"god..." she breathed out, tossing her head back as he skimmed his nose over the delicate fabric of her panties.

a soft chuckle reverberated through her from lando, he was literally laughing into her pussy - how hot could this man get?

"someone's needy." he whispered, lips brushing against the lace once again, resulting in her clenching around nothing.

"shut up." she whined. "just do something, please?"

"as you wish, baby." he mumbled, tugging her underwear down effortlessly and discarding them across the room.

he was like a man starved, denied of watching his girlfriend squirm underneath him for a mere few hours - that seemed to feel like years.

not that she needed any sort of lube, she was soaking wet by the time lando's thumb circled over her clit agonising slowly, but lando felt it necessary still to let a string of his saliva drip down on her aching cunt, spreading it adequately around with his tongue.

she was just about to beg, but he latched his lips onto her before the pleads could leave her lips. the noises made between his lips and hers were disgustingly hot, his fingers slowly beginning to prod at her entrance, teasing her tightness. his tongue drew shapes on her clit, he was spelling his fucking name, and she was seeing stars when a thick middle finger slid into her.

over and over again the same shapes danced over her heat, and lando slowly began to curl his finger to push against her g-spot. an almost pornographic moan left her lips as she felt the pressure of his index finger alongside his middle finger inside of her - whines and whimpers now a constant sound in the room.

they weren't just from her either, when her hips pushed into his face, lando wasn't ashamed to let a low groan out, the vibrations making her back arch up off of the bed - only for her to quickly be pushed back down by a veiny hand.

"fuck.. lando..." she moaned airly, a hand clutching onto his hair for dear life.

the soft bite to her clit was what sent her over the edge and into space. her legs shook around his head, the most lewd moans tumbling loudly from her lips. he pumped his fingers in and out of her and kitten-licked her through her orgasm, allowing her to float on her cloud of ecstasy for a little longer as she spasmed around him.

"you with me, pretty?" he softly spoke, now having moved his hands from her heat to her ribs, gently rubbing his thumbs up and down.

"yeah." she panted, nodding her head. "so fucking good."

he laughed airily, pressing soft kisses from her lower stomach up to her pillowy lips - swollen from how much she'd bitten down on them over the past few minutes.

their kiss was soft and gentle, she could taste herself on his lips, making her grow all-the-more wet again.

"take this off." she murmured into his lips, making a small noise resembling both a laugh and a whimper leave his lips as she tugged at his shirt.

he began to unbutton his shirt, while her hands frantically made their way down to his dress pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his trousers. both items of clothing were quickly a puddle on the floor, his boxers swiftly following.

lando's necklace dangled down and rested just below her chin, then sitting comfortably on the centre of her neck as he kissed her again - teeth clashing and tongues pushing against each other for dominance (lando won, obviously.)

the hand that wasn't holding his body up above her, made its way down to his erection, running it up and down her slit to lube it.

breaking the kiss, the look in his eyes asked her the inevitable, and a quick nod followed.

the tip of his cock pressed into her, still stretching her out. you would have thought that after almost three years of very frequent sex, both would get used to the other - but no, every time they felt each other, it was like the first time all over again.

she quite literally fluttered around him, eyes squeezing shut as he bottomed out a few moments later. a low groan escaped his lips, cut short when he realised her eyes were closed.

"hey, eyes open, baby." he whispered, tapping her cheek gently. "want to see the look in your eyes when you fall apart, yeah?"

pretty eyes met his once again as she blinked up at him, some form of a moan leaving her lips as he spoke to her - how could such dirty words come from a man who looked like a fucking angel?

"good girl." he nodded, pressing a small kiss to her nose as he began to slowly thrust in and out.

now, usually, rough sex was lando's thing - but there was something about the way she looked up at him, it made him want to fuck her nice and gentle, slow and deep - so he did.

his strokes were fucking delicious, taming the fire in her lower belly in just the right way - a way that was building the indescribably incredible knot thick and slow. something was different, it was overwhelmingly good - the softest yet neediest moans tumbling from her lips at an almost alarming rate.

maybe every other deep thrust, she'd clench around him, even more blood rushing to his throbbing cock - he wasn't really sure if it was her that was pulsing around him or it was himself, but either way, it felt fucking good.

his lips made their way to her boobs subconsciously, feeling as if he'd neglected them. swirling his tongue around one hard nipple, he slid two fingers inside of her mouth to wet his fingers - before returning them to the nub his mouth wasn't paying delicate attention to, pinching and pressing the pads of his fingers to them.

sensitive from her previous high, the next one was encroaching quickly, warmth spreading to her inner thighs and lower tummy. he could immediately tell she was close. there were tell-tale signs - loud moans would turn to quiet, short, sharp whimpers, she'd become grabby with her hands - needing something to clutch onto as she fell into the abyss of ecstasy - simultaneously clenching around him so tightly that sometimes she'd accidentally restrict his movement - and all were currently taking place.

"go on, pretty girl, cum for me."

she was so gone.

lando's back suffered as her nails scratched into it, leaving red lines painted across the muscles - his trainers wouldn't ask any questions, it's not as if they hadn't seen worse marks before anyway.

she tried so so hard to keep her eyes open, but it was just too hard. her eyes fluttered closed as her mouth hung agape, eyebrows arched as her nose scrunched up a little - lando wanted the image etched onto his retinas.

she gushed all over him, pretty liquid squirting from her cunt, painting his abdomen shiny as the juices splattered on him.

she thought she was going to die, and she would happily like this.

that was actually all it took for him. hot ropes of cum spilled deep into her, stuffed up against her cervix as he tried his hardest to keep thrusting into her - his hips stuttering as he started to get a little overstimulated.

slowly but surely, the two came down from their mind-blowing highs, lando rolling them over so she was laid on top of him, her walls still unconsciously clenching and fluttering around him.

"you good, baby?" he whispered, his hands rubbing up and down her back.

"think so, tired now." she smiled wearily, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before letting her head roll down into the crook of his neck.

"want to sleep or clean up?" lando asked softly, running his fingers through her hair.

"sleep, definitely."

[mv1simp]

for the bully!Max, Leclerc!Reader and chubby!reader simps in my requests…I heard you and I’m here to deliver 😼😼 enjoy!!

You Belong To Me ♥️

Bully!Max Verstappen x Chubby!Leclerc!Reader

say it louder, say it louder, who’s gonna love you like me (who’s gonna fuck you like me?)

Growing up as the youngest daughter in the Leclerc family, you’d had a childhood crush on your brother’s rival and friend, Max. But when you grew older he turned into your worst nightmare, always bullying you. You’ve been able to avoid him for the last 5 years - but now with your new engineer job on the paddock, you can’t hide from Max any longer…and can’t stop the feelings you still have for him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub, dark! Max who bullies innocent virgin!reader, dub con, brainwashing, bimbofication, somno, yk all the good shit, WC 9k 😨

You shiver as you walk into your family’s childhood vacation home along the Cote de Azure, despite the summer heat. It’s been a long time since you’d visited this house. Even though your Mama and three older brothers came by often, looking for a weekend break from their busy lives or a romantic getaway with gorgeous girlfriends, you’d always turn down their offers to join once you were in college. They'd always be confused at your hesitance - but then again, they don't know just how many bittersweet memories this home holds for you. You’d grown up here in the summers, the youngest daughter of the famous Monegasque Leclerc family. Racing was in your bloodline, and your beloved Papa had instilled his passion into all of his children before he’d passed away.

Your older brothers, who were all handsome, tall and athletic, made natural drivers right from childhood and easily progressed through the karting competitions. Meanwhile, you were the youngest and the only daughter, and were raised in a far gentler manner as the apple of your family’s eye, their cute bunny as they’d nicknamed you, after your favourite childhood pet. In comparison to your brothers who ran around outdoors, you were more shy, preferring to be left with your books and colouring pencils in the safety of the patio.

Of course, with all your differences, there had been the healthy sibling rivalry of brothers vs sister growing up. They hated being forced to play house or pose for your scribbly drawings (not Arthur though - even at age 5 you were convinced he secretly loved when you made him join the Barbie tea party.) And in turn, you'd alway complain when you’d be dragged to cheer on Charles from the sidelines as he won his karting competitions. You would sulk, childishly annoyed at your parent’s attention shifting from you to their middle son’s rapidly growing racing career.

But it all changed when Charles raced against Max Verstappen for the first time at age 11. The blonde Dutchman aggravated your competitive older brother immediately with his aggressive driving tactics. You’d heard Cha, as you’d been calling him since you were little, furiously ranting about the illegal moves Max had been pulling and your 7 year old brain tuned it all out. But when you first saw the mysterious blonde in question, your heart fluttered with a feeling you’d never felt before and a bright blush overtook your chubby cheeks.

You immediately became infatuated with the older boy, who was far nicer to you than Charles had been back then. Your middle brother's idea of “sibling time” involving hiding beetles in your bed and laughing when you screamed. So it became a common sight to see you wandering after Max instead of being by your family’s side, tugging on his shirt sleeve and showing him the racecar drawings you’d made. Max always entertained you, ruffing your hair and smiling back toothily, telling you that you were a much better artist than his little sis Victoria.

You’d beam from the praise, only leaving Max’s side when his scary father Jos would approach and eye you with disdain. You scampered back to your family, to your older brothers who accused you of the worst crime imaginable to the loyal Leclerc blood - exchanging racing strategies with the enemy Dutch. Your mother had hit all three sons on the back of the head and told them they could learn a thing or two about treating Bunny with respect like that cute boy Max did.

As you grew older, your pigtails were replaced with cute pins and headbands in an effort to look pretty whenever Max would come around to your summer home. By now, his rivalry with Charles had turned into a reluctant "frenemies who also spent summers together to discuss racing". You'd get to be with Max all day, swimming in the turquoise ocean and eating sweet stroopwafel that he always brought. An in the evenings, the two car-obsessed 14 year olds would be arguing about overtaking strategies at your family’s dining table. You’d pout, childishly wanting attention at age 11, interrupting whatever stupid point you're sure Charles was making to bat your eyelashes at your guest. Holding up your now detailed drawings of a black kart, you asked Maxie - as you’d taken to calling him - if he liked your recreation of his.

He’d grinned at you, still boyishly handsome and in the lanky phase of growing up as he told you he loved it, should he sign his autograph on it? with that Dutch accent you adored. Charles watched your shenanigans with a roll of his eyes, snidely muttering (in French, thank god) that the annoying little bunny wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her crush on the enemy Dutch. You flushed, frantically checking to make sure Max hadn’t been able to understand, and had run off with a red face to tearfully rat him out to your Mama. Unlike Charles, she found your crush on Max rather cute, and always encouraged you to give your favourite ribbons and bows to Max for a good luck charm the way you did with your brothers pre-race (Traitor, teen Arthur and Charles mouthed at you).

She eyed you knowingly when you do your best to avoid blushing as you grew older still, this time seeing Max when you were 14 and him 17 with an impressive winning streak in the Junior Redbull team. He’d started to develop into his tall 6 foot frame now, towering over your tiny 5”2 frame like your brothers did. What, no drawing of a racecar for me to sign Bunny? he gently teased, leaning down so you could shyly kiss both of his cheeks - a Monegasque tradition Max had become accustomed to from your family. You stuttered out your no, of course not, you were too old for that now! making him laugh at how cute you looked before walking off. Arthur watches the exchange with a smirk, elbowing Cha when he emerges from the changing rooms. Your middle brother’s frenemy status with Max was more of a friendship these days, and his earlier accusations of you being a traitor had turned into something much more annoying. Max and Bunny, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-

But by the time you turned 16, your Maxie changed from the sweet, laughing boy you’d always trusted into someone darker, someone who you felt scared of at times. You were at the age where you now wanted Max as your boyfriend, naively thinking that the 19 year old driver would return your affections when he’d attended your Sweet 16th. You’d spent hours getting ready, styling your long curly hair and wearing a cute dress all your friends had insisted you would be irresistible in (but had almost given your older brothers an aneurysm). It was tight and short, and although you'd always been a chubby kid, you feel a self conscious of the new plush curves around your hips and chest, in comparison to your older brothers who now looked very handsome and muscular.

You’d lit up when you saw Max across the fancy yacht club, flooded with all your schoolmates and family friends who’d come to celebrate the baby Leclerc’s birthday. He'd looked so handsome, his muscular frame now filled out and catching the eye of many girls. There was a devilishness in his smile that came with the confidence of being the youngest F1 driver in history. Lately, your innocent crush had started to drift towards naughtier, dirtier fantasies about what Max’s large hands and lips would feel like on you, if he snuck into your bedroom in the middle of the night and told you he loved you as you willingly gave him your first kiss.

But all your naive hopes come crashing down when you see a slim, sexy blonde approach Max where he’s talking to Charles intently, drinking a beer. His hand squeezes her ass in a familiar motion as she wraps her arms around him, leaning up to give him a kiss. You quickly turn around in the crowd before you can be seen, heartbroken, and drown yourself in blurred conversations and slices of birthday cake. Max doesn’t even come to wish you happy birthday like he normally did, always with a special gift in hand. At some point in the night you’re talking to Charles and try to subtly ask who that blonde girl with Max had been. Your older brother gives you an amused look, asking if you still had your silly little childhood crush on Max? You adamantly deny it, and he smirks and tells you that was Giana, Max’s girlfriend and an Italian model. You’re upset, of course, but thankfully he changes the topic to tell you how Max had recommended his old F2 seat go to Charles, wasn’t that amazing Bunny? You nod mutedly, having become used to Cha being less and less aware of anything that went on outside his racing career these days.

After a sneaky shot of tequila your friend gave you, you have the courage to go approach Max. His girlfriend is still at his side and raises an eyebrow, pointedly glancing down at your figure to make it clear what she thought of your curvier body. What shocks you, though, is seeing an annoyed look on Max’s face as well, as he demands to know why you’re interrupting, couldn’t you see he was busy? You’ve never heard him speak like that and are confused, asking him why he’s being so mean, did I do something wrong, Max-

He cuts you off, smirking as he asks why you weren’t calling him Maxie anymore. The girl laughs at that, saying no way, she’s such a kid, she calls you that? A few of your older schoolmates have wandered over, curious to see what was going on and you flush from the embarrassment of having Max treat you like this in front of your friends.

From then on, Max just became crueler and crueler to you. It’s like he enjoyed seeing how you'd react, your cute chubby cheeks darkening with embarrassment as you avoided his gaze. Once he'd officially moved to Monaco, you ran into him everywhere as him and Charles formed a close friendship and would often hang out. Max would always time his harsh remarks just when your brother wasn't in earshot. He'd mock you about everything, from your childish appearance, to your innocently conservative outfits, your nerdy perfect grades, your animated Italian gestures and accent which he'd always seemed to adore growing up. Your popularity in school plummeted as your friends watched the talented F1 driver roll his eyes and mutter how pathethic you were when he heard you were reading romantic novels on Friday night instead of partying, saying the only reason you had any friends was because of your talented brother’s fame. Your family had no idea what was going on - as Max’s bullying started the same time your Papa becomes unwell and landed in hospital. Your brothers thought the change in your sweet demeanour was because of your sadness for your father.

If only they knew the real culprit was right under their noses.

It seemed there was nothing teen Max enjoyed more than seeing your big brown doe eyes welling up with tears. He’d use everything you told him growing up against you, making gossip and rumours fly around your school constantly. Any guy who tried to talk to you was assumed to be doing it as a dare. The first few years of high school had been like hell - the only thing making it bearable being your perfect grades and promising future. Unlike your older brothers who were natural sportsmen, you were the opposite and excelled at academics, and you’d used it to get a full ride scholarship at a prestigious engineering course in the UK.

That’s what you reminded yourself to get you through a graduation party at the end of high school. You'd been reluctantly dragged by the small group of friends you’d thankfully kept despite all the bullying and rumours. In true Monaco trust fund kid fashion, the party was hosted on one of your schoolmates' yacht, with many juniors and older siblings tagging along as well. Towards the end of high school, Max’s bullying was less common as he became busier with his racing - something Charles had become fully invested in with his new F1 Alfa Romeo seat. And you’d grown up, too, maturing into your curves and pretty dark Italian features, catching the eye of a few boys in your year.

It seemed you’d been briefly relieved of your duties of being a social pariah when you're yanked into a circle of already wasted partygoers playing 7 minutes in heaven. But when your friend pulled out your name with a drunken flush, you could only widen your eyes in horror when the next name she announces was one you'd never expected - Max.

And then you see him, on the other side of the deck, leaning against the railing and ignoring the girls trying to speak to him as his ice blue eyes intently watch you. You squeaked out your protests, begging your friend to try again, but it's hopeless when the circle begins chanting your name and Max’s. Giving up, you turned around and ran through the crowd, trying to reach the ramp and get off the boat -

-when a large, warm hand wrapped around your waist and easily pulled you into a broad chest. Before you knew it, you're in a tiny, dark storage room, with Max Verstappen blocking the door and smirking down at you. Your naive heart still ached with conflicting feelings for Max, who was your childhood knight in shining armour, who always stood up for you when your older brothers ganged up on you, always knew how to make you laugh when you were crying from their teasing. But this was also the same Max who made your high school life hell, had teased you mercilessly behind your brother’s back, and used all the secrets you'd trusted him with against you. He'd make you look like a childish little girl in front of your effortlessly cool, rich peers. This reminder brought you back to your senses and you quietly but firmly ask him to let me out.

He hadn’t let you leave, of course, instead leaning down until he was whispering in your ear with his deep voice that still send shivers down your spine, mockingly asking if you’d had your first kiss yet or if you're still the same stuck up Leclerc who thinks she's too good to be fucked by anyone here?

Heart racing furiously from nervousness, you mumble out that you hadn’t had your first kiss, avoiding his ice cold eyes as he chuckled. You know his game well enough by now to understand he wouldn’t let you go until he gets his answer. You hated the boy you once hoped to give your first kiss to. He’d ruined your reputation beyond repair, had made it so no guy at school would touch you even if they found you pretty.

Well, apparently except for one boy.

Turns out Max himself had no issues laying his hands on you, hidden in the darkness of the storeroom. His hands had pushed you up against the wall, your face cutely scrunched up in confusion, and then your jaw almost dropped in shock when he pressed his lips to your ear. He huskily whispered how pretty you looked, how he’d hated the way boys had been checking you out all night. They didn’t know you’d already promised to marry Max when you were little, yeah Bunny?

And then he’d captured the surprised gasp you let out, shocked that he’d remembered your childhood wish to be his vrouw, his wife, when he leans down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss against your soft lips. When he pulled back, his face remaining close to yours, your brown doe eyes looked into his with whirling confusion and hurt - but also desire flickering in them. And then you’d both gotten lost in another kiss, then another, and then Max being Max had starting running his hands all over your body. Squeezing his hand into your juicy ass to make you shyly moan, and then greedily slipping his tongue inside.

That’s how everyone had found you when they yanked the door open, with Max having you moaning his name, one hand sliding up your skirt and the other running over your tits. The darkness in his gaze returns as he pulled back and left you leaning against the wall with wobbly legs. He laughed as he strode off the party, saying it’d been so easy to get you to beg for him like a little slut, who would’ve guessed with your innocent appearance?

You couldn’t wait to graduate high school and go to university after that. And it had been amazing, moving far away from Monte Carlo. No one knew who you were or how deep your history with world famous athletes like Charles or Max went. You reinvented yourself, becoming confident after months of therapy and your intelligence becoming something you were admired for instead of teased. You’d though that was the end of it, that you’d never have to be humiliated or have your heart broken by Max Verstappen again. Until 5 years later when you got a call from Lorenzo asking you to come home.

With the intimate engagement party of your oldest brother being held at your family’s scenic vacation home, you’d been unable to refuse. You knew Max was going to be there, but you’d taken a deep breath and reminded yourself that things were different now. You were 22, a qualified engineer and had used your own hard work to get a job within the Alpine garage - even using your mother’s maiden name as your last name because you wanted to prove it was because of your skill, not connections. Charles had been bewildered, begging you to please come work at Ferrari, bebe but you’d been adamant about needing to prove your own worth. You loved your family, and were so happy for Cha’s success as your relationship with your brothers blossomed into a close, loyal one as adults. It had always been your father’s dream to see him in the red suit. It was unbelievable to have millions of Tifosi literally worship your older brother - and their adoration extended to you, his sweet younger sister Bunny. You make rare appearances on the paddock but were hailed as a good luck charm when you did, Tifosi cheering when you affectionally kiss your brother on both cheeks and tie a hair ribbon to his suit. You always made sure to stay well away from the Redbull garage.

And you’d become radiant in your beauty, too, in pretty, flattering dresses and fitted miniskirts that showed off your soft stomach and thighs, your generous cleavage and juicy ass. Full, lush lips and long dark curls framed your sweetheart face and you’d been finally been able to put makeup on without fear of being mocked. A few guys had tried to ask you out in college, but you hadn’t been quite there yet in your confidence to say yes. Max had seemed to put you off all men, for now at least….and your protective Italian brothers seemed to make it their personal mission to protect your honour and integrity. Very dramatic, you’d said to them with a fond roll of your eyes, secretly enjoying how they cared for you despite their luxurious celebrity lifestyles. So you’d ended up still being a virgin at your college graduation, wanting to save it for the man you fell in love with.

You reminded yourself of all that you had to offer, of how you weren’t the same nerdy little girl who was going to be bullied, when you heard Max would be joining your family prior to the engagement party. The night before he was meant to arrive, you’d been overthinking and anxiously wringing your fingers so hard that your whole family had started demanding to know what was troubling you. After giving them some weak excuse about being worried about your new job, you'd gone to read one of your romance novels by the pool after dinner to destress. You had ended up falling asleep under the stars, your tired mind eager to rest.

You didn’t know the man you were desperately hoping to avoid had landed a night earlier with his private jet. When he’d greeted your middle brother late in the night, saying he would crash for now and greet everyone properly in the morning when they were awake, Charles had gone to bed and the last remaining light of the house switched off. Only the silver moonlight illuminated your pretty face and unsuspecting figure when Max Verstappen stepped outside his bedroom's French doors, hoping to cool off - but instead felt his blood pumping heatedly at the sight of you.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to see you for years as you'd understandably fled to the other side of the continent the second you had the change to escape. You’d turned from a nervous, cute schoolgirl into a gorgeous woman, and his intense gaze hungrily roams over your peaceful sleeping body. He was going to ruin you, he thinks wickedly, gently stroking your still chubby cheeks that subconsciously leaned into his touch.

He decided to give you one last night of quiet as he left you in deep sleep, walking back inside with dark desire brewing. The childish bully he’d been as an angry teen, desperate to prove himself, was gone. He was now a thrice proven world champion, a millionaire, a man who’d been with dozens of women but found only one he still wanted through it all. And it was none other than his racing rival's sweet younger sister, the one who'd stayed loyal to him since she was little. He was ready to make you his, whether you still wanted him or not.

When you finally saw him at breakfast the next morning you had been suspicious at his pleasant behaviour, greeting you like he would any family friend and asking how college had treated you. Your whole body had gone stiff, eyes distrustfully following his every move. You’d been forced to respond back politely as your family watched you, your mum still grinning as she rooted for her daughter to become romantically involved with her childhood crush. If only your family knew how much Max tormented you, they’d never let him get within 10km of you again. But to your surprise, Max kept up his kind manner even when your family would be out of the room, laughing and smiling easily at you and somehow bringing confusing butterflies back to swirl in your stomach. After the week he'd spent at your vacation home, you'd naively started to think maybe he had changed. Maybe the five years away had made him mature into the charming, funny driver you'd seen in numerous interviews and ads, being unable to avoid his far reaching fame.

But it turned out his respectful behaviour, all through the engagement celebrations and the after party, only served as a ploy to get you to foolishly lower your guard. Max had greedily collected up all the information he’d missed over the years, about what your likes and dislikes were now, about how you’d gotten a job with your own means at the F1 paddock. And then he casually informed you over dinner that he’d spoken to Horner who was coincidentally looking for a mechanical engineer - and had wanted to interview you after seeing your resume. Your family had been ecstatic at a job for you in a prestigious garage, despite their blood thirsty Ferrari loyalty. Even Cha had caught you after dinner, telling you that it was thoughtful of Max to look out for you, that as your big brother he’d feel so much better if you were working in a winning team’s garage and being protected by Max, instead of alone in a poorly performing team.

You were so confused, couldn’t understand why Max was trying to get involved - and you told him so that night, hushed angry whispers in the hallway after everyone had gone to bed. He’d smirked, leaning down to press you into the wall, saying Wasn’t it obvious Bunny? I want you.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you stammered out your confusions, asking him why he would say such a thing, only to feel his lips brushing your ear. His deep voice murmured his explanation of how his father didn't think Max had been focused enough when he was younger, had wanted him to throw all distractions to the side...including you. I'm a three time world champion now, Max said with a cocky grin. It doesn't matter what he says anymore, I do what I want.

Although his initial words about how the change in his behaviour being due to his controlling father sent a pang of empathy through you, you hadn't come this far to just give in. You pushed him off you with all your might, only being able to get a couple of inches as you glared and said you're delusional, Max, if you think I'd ever forgive you. Much less want you back after the hell you put me through. Storming off, you naively thought that was the end of it, that Max would back off once he saw you weren't the same lovesick girl he could toy with anymore. Not gonna call me Maxie anymore? he teases at your retreating back.

You should have known Max always got what he wanted, because he finds his way into your bedroom later that night. It was stupid to not lock your room because you think he wouldn't lay a hand on you when under the same roof as your brothers. Softly closing the door behind him, Max's dark gaze took in your curvy, sleeping figure in your childhood room. It was still decorated with your younger self's belongings as your Mama had always wanted you to feel welcome - but you had never come back after graduating. So you slept against a large plushie Bunny, cutely dressed in a pink matching shorts and camisole set. The twisted desire to corrupt the sleeping beauty in front of him rushes to Max's head - and his hardening cock- and he doesn't hesitate to slowly run his large palms over your body. He teasingly slides one hand up your sheer camisole to graze your large tits and the other down your shorts, to lightly toy with your pussy through cotton panties. The sweet dream you'd been having started to turn into a dirty one from the stimulation, and you instinctively grind back against the warm, hard body pressed into your back as you moan sleepily.Your dream is getting more and more heated as Max plays with your sensitive body, and only when you’re starting to drench your panties with slick do your eyes hazily blink open. Your adorably confused expression turns him on even more as he captures your gasp in his mouth, using his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth. Soon he has your panties pulled to one side and his thick finger sliding into your dripping folds. Your muffled protests have started slipping into confused moans, and he doesn't need to keep you silent any longer as start kissing him back when your body's frustrated needs take over your mind's denials. Max looks down on your face, memorising how pretty your wide brown eyes looked as you teared up, and he whispers filthy things in your ear to send you off the edge and spiralling into your first orgasm. You're so sensitive, bunny, you’re still a virgin aren’t you? Saved yourself just for me like a good girl, hmm?

You’d silently cried into your plush toy as you buried your flushed face into it, feeling lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you knew you shouldn't be feeling, that was wrong but felt so right. Drool stained your poor bunny plush as you bit down on it to muffle your scream of Maxie as waves of satisfaction rolled over you. You'd fallen back into a deep sleep after the overwhelming stimulation, distantly feeling Max's lips press a goodnight kiss to your tear stained cheeks. And when you awoke in the morning, you almost thought you'd imagined up the whole thing, a particularly naughty wet dream, but when you found that your panties were missing underneath your cute pajama shorts you knew there was only one person who would have taken them with him.

You didn’t even get a chance to confront him because you find out the very same day that Max had gotten his lawyer to cancel your Alpine contract and have Redbull send you a new one, complete with a generous signing bonus that anyone would be a fool to refuse. With your family watching you expectantly, you knew it would be too hard to explain your way out of this. So you reluctantly signed the 1 year contract, telling yourself it was only a temporary problem, that you would surely be hiding out the back of the garage and in the workshops, well away from your childhood bully.

That’s all Max needed to get you alone, to start his corruption of you, his favourite Leclerc sibling. Right from your first day, he’d welcomed you with a firm hug, his swollen biceps pressing you against his broad chest, squeezing your plump ass and making you squeal - but striding off before you could say anything. Or coming up behind you when you were bent over, tinkering on something, and making sure you could feel his impressive semi against your covered slit. You'd always desperately try to move away, anxious someone would see - but you stood no chance against the adult Max's strength when he tightened his grip around your thick hips and grinded himself on your jiggling ass.

He still teased you, sure, but now it came off as harmless flirting, steeped into your childhood friendship. And conflicting feelings swirled in your chest when you saw the lucky ribbon you’d gifting him as a kid somehow still tied to his seat, an ever present good luck charm. Everyone else would smile at you two encouragingly, saying you looked so sweet together, where you secretly a couple? No one seemed to share your nervousness around Redbull's champion driver, or pick up on the undertone of darkness in his intense gaze when he looked at you.

Soon he has you travelling exclusively with him, staying in all the same hotels, under the guise of being his personal mechanic for any last minute corrections. Charles loved it, saying this way Max could always keep a close eye on you when you were away from home. If only your overprotective brother knew he was sending his little sister right into the den of the lion. And the so called Dutch Lion was no longer holding himself back from taking your sweet innocence all for himself.

You'd always belonged to him, after all.

It first started when he’d gotten absolutely furious seeing you at a race afterparty in Miami, giggling cutely in a pretty minidress with an engineer you’d started to flirt with at work. Max had all but dragged you to his private booth, tossing you over his strong shoulder when you tried to stand your ground and stand firmly in your strappy high heels. He kicked all the models and B list celebrities trying to leech out of the dimly lit room, pushing your head down till you were staring up at him, your pretty face bathed in the red neon lights as you anxiously bite your glossed lip.

If you wanted to get fucked so bad, he growled deeply, unbuckling his belt and making your eyes go wide with fear as the biggest cock you’d ever seen emerges, you can just beg for it nicely like the good little slut you are, hmm? You’re sniffling, tears emerging in your wide doe eyes as you beg him please Maxie, please don't do this, I promise I’ll stop-

But he doesn’t listen to one pleading word, his twisted mind obsessed with one thing and one thing only - making the pure Leclerc sweetheart gag and choke on his mean cock. You knew better than to get in the way of what Max wanted, because he always ended up getting it. Instead you let your mind go blank, letting the guilty pleasure cloud your senses to ignore the reality of how mean Max was being, your pliant mouth dropping open as you let him ruin your throat. There isn’t a glimmer of his childhood sweetness in his dark, icy blue eyes as he memorizes the hypnotising sight of your chubby cheeks slurping at raging erection, the tears falling down your face at performing your first blowjob on your knees at a nightclub just making him impossibly harder. He groans as your sweet mouth slurps on his warm length, continuing to whisper his filthy promises to punish you and slipping into dutch as he climaxed. Fuck, fuck, erg lekker, so fucking good- He made sure your crying cheeks was pressed right into his tense abs when he finally emptied his load inside you, panting heavily from how good your heavenly tongue felt. He didn’t move until you followed his instructions and tried to swallow every drop. Your inexperienced mouth struggled, half of his sticky cum leaking out the corners of your mouth. He tutted mockingly, smearing his release all over your swollen lips with his thumb and saying he’d have to give your throat so much more training so it knew how to suck a cock, hmm?

Your cheeks burned with humiliation at failing to please him properly, even though he was practically forcing you to deepthroat him. The next day, when you woke up with no voice, you’d had to pretend you had a cold when seeing Cha for brunch the next morning.

And when he’d have a bad qualifying, he’d easily swipe his way into your hotel room two doors down from his. He often finds you in a cute silky babydoll, getting ready to sleep after a long day in the garage but making sure to dress prettily because you never know when Max is in a bad mood and wants to take it out on you. You had one more job to do, and that’s to make up for whatever mistake you must have made with the car and fucked up his hot lap, Max would argue. An angry Max always scared you so you would sweetly beg for his forgiveness, even for a mistake you would never have made on the car, letting him abuse your petite frame to vent his frustrations.

Tonight, he wanted to play with your breasts, sliding the silky straps off your nightie off your shoulders to hungrily eye your curves, tanned nipples quickly tightening from the chill. Can’t get enough of these pretty fucking tits, he said as he sloppily fucked them while you obediently kneeled in between his spread legs. You’re squeezing your plush chest together to cushion his raging erection, his angry red tip making you squeal when he growls and splatters cum all over your deliciously tanned skin. Knowing he’d get mad if you don’t let him mark his territory, you rub the sticky cream all over your hardened nipples and large breasts before you clean up his drooling cockhead with your mouth. He cooes his praises at you, telling you see, you’re perfect at this, maybe he’ll have you promoted from engineer to his personal cocksleeve to relieve his stress, hmm?

You feel so dirty at the wetness gushing between your legs at his filthy words, biting your lip at the thought of Max fucking you in his driver’s room while your brothers stood just a garage over in Ferrari. But despite his constant teasing, he knew to never cross the line fully and actually fuck you. That would scare you away, make you too anxious, and although he played rough and mean when he'd been younger, he now had the patience to wait and leave you wanting more, so that you'd be the one to come to him. So he edged you constantly, working you up only to pull away just as you almost climaxed, his name on your tongue like a prayer. Or pulling you into sleep against his bare muscled chest, so that you'd feel his morning wood against your soaked panties but be unable to do anything except dry hump him.

And his plan worked because after only a few months, your once pure and innocent mind has become utterly ruined for Max’s attention. The Dutch Lion has convinced you that you’re meant to be his plaything, and you can’t find it within you to try and deny him any longer. Would it truly be so wrong to give in to the naughty desires you’d been having about your childhood sweetheart, your school bully, your brother’s rival on track but friend that had been trusted to keep his little sister safe? When you’d grown too desperate to satisfy yourself by grinding on your pillow or your tiny fingers, you’d decided to entice Max even more in the hopes that he’d properly take your innocence.

You’d certainly caught the Dutchman’s eye, as well as many other hungry gazes, when you started arriving on the paddock in cute heels and floral minidresses. And of course, your generous cleavage was out on full display in sweetheart necklines, instead of conservatively hidden in an oversized Redbull shirt. You’d made sure to have your lanyard tucked right in between your bouncing tits too, the label of Max Verstappen’s Enineering Team dangling and drawing attention with each bounce of your tits when you walked. Because you knew your Maxie just as well as he knew you, after all - and he was a intensely competitive and jealous man. You hadn’t even had to wait till the debrief as he’d hightailed it right out of the meeting room, taking you to his motor home through a back passage.

You still play the clueless little virgin, adamant on trying to resist him even though you're secretly finding it just as dirty and hot as Max does when he shoves you against the door, locking it firmly. Fuck, your body drives me wild, it’s all your fault that I’m getting distracted like this. How can you be such a naive virgin but walk around with the body of a slut just begging to get fucked, huh?

You frantically shake your head, trying to plead your innocence but he doesn’t hear your words, instead grabbing a hold of your miniskirt and asking if you understood girls with thick asses like you shouldn’t be showing them off unless you wanted attention, yeah? You started crying easily, already finding your thoughts going fuzzy as you slipped into submission, craving the way he’d degrade you for his own pleasure.

He’d have to punish you for distracting him, he said, even though he’d won P1 it had been torture seeing your fat ass bending over when you dropped your phone in front of him. You were lucky no one else had seen your cotton panties or he’d have to fucking kill them.

His possessive words make you shiver, doe brown eyes staring up at him expectantly and waiting for his orders. He swears at your obedient expression and guides your hand to his sizeable bulge, making you squeal, hoping it sounds like fright and not eagerness. He rubs your tiny palm across his pants, demanding to know just how the hell he was meant to focus with a hard on the whole race?

When you can’t answer him properly he smirks and tells you that you’ll just have to take your punishment like a good girl, then. Within seconds he has you lying across his lap, your miniskirt up around your hips and white cotton panties pulled down to snugly trap your thick thighs together. And then he’s spanking you with his large hands, telling you to count and meanly restarting each time you lost track when he hits extra hard to watch your ass bounce. By the time he’s finally content your cheeks are red and burning, and you’ve left drool all over his sofa from your desperate efforts to muffle your wails.

You like that, don’t you bunny? He asks meanly. You start sniffling again at his mean words, cheeks burning with humiliation because it had felt soooo good but you felt so naughty for enjoying it. You'd die if he found out. So instead you tell him he was being so mean, Maxie, couldn’t he just be nice to you like when he’d been younger?

Your eyes widen as you blurt the words out instinctively, making Max’s expression grow stormy at your bratty reply. Ripping your panties off entirely, he stuffs them into his pocket and tells you to explain why you’re fucking dripping all over me then, hmm? - running his thick fingers along your dripping cunny and smirking at the long strands of sticky wetness that connect to his fingers when he pulls away. When you don’t respond, too embarrassed by how your body has given you away, he slides the fingers into your closed mouth despite your attempts to turn your head. He makes you lick him clean, tasting yourself on him, murmuring if you were a good slut and spread your legs for him he might consider eating you out.

The ache between your thighs is almost as painful as your tender ass now, and your virgin cunny tingles from the idea of Max kissing you down there. Even though he’s being so mean, you can’t help but sit down willingly against the sofa arm and slowly part your thick thighs, blushing all the while as he examines you intently. You whine when his hungry gaze continues to linger, but he doesn’t stop, even taking out his phone to snap photos of your pussy after holding your thighs open to stop you frantically closing them when you see what he’s doing. It’s so cute and wet he murmurs distractedly, looking entranced as he slowly sinks a single thick finger in and finds it completely sucked in by your tight, drooling pussy. Really, you’ve never let any boy except for me touch you here, not even with his fingers? At the shake of your head and shy murmur of no, just my own, I promise, Maxie he breaks into an evil, satisfied grin. So this little hole is really all mine to claim, huh?

It turns out going down on you was really more of a punishment than a pleasure because he makes you cum multiple times with his skilled tongue. You’re begging him to stop, feeling overstimulated and completely wrecked, mascara stained tears running over your chubby cheeks. When he finally eases his sadistic torture after teasing flicks of his broad tongue have you squirting a third time, you’re too fucked out to protest him separating your puffy cunny lips and spitting onto it, as if it belonged to him. Bunny, if your brothers knew the kind of things I was doing to their precious baby sister, Max says, chuckling darkly. They’d want to slam me straight into the nearest barricade and have my head on a spike.

But your brothers remain as oblivious to your corruption as ever, with an endless supply of work excuses easily being used by Max and now you, as you started to fully give in and enjoy the intense pleasure being his personal fucktoy brought you. He’d taken your sweet virginity on a hot night in Singapore after beating Charles to P1, telling you that the best reward wasn’t the trophy but knowing he got to cum raw inside your untouched cunny. After plying you with champagne at the yacht afterparty, he'd taken you back and fucked you on the French chaise, not even making it to the bed. He’d been gentle the first time, huskily whispering praises in your ears as you desperately tried to adjust to the size, his cock so much larger than his fingers. He licked away the tears at the corner of your eyes as you bite his shoulder, lost in the waves of pleasure as you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally carries you over to the bed, climbing over your satisfied figure, you’re fooled into thinking he’s going to cuddle you. He’s turning you onto your front and you’re expecting to feel him behind you, bringing you into him as his little spoon like he does ever night. But your sleepy eyes go wide open when your thick hips are suddenly pulled up into the air, and your flushed face pressed down firmly into the sheets. And then he huskily whispers it’s time to fuck you properly, be a good bunny for me and take it, okay?

You wailed into the cushions, your open mouth leaving drool all over the pillowcases, as his cock bullies your tight cunny over and over. He reaches around to toy with your sensitive clit, smirking when your crying turned into confused moans of pleasure as the pressure in your pussy starts to feel so good. Soon he’s slamming his hard length into your twitching figure, slapping your red plump ass repeatedly and telling you how funny it’d be if Charlie found out his rival had claimed your virginity, hmm? Should he tell him next time the Ferrari driver tried to one up him on the track? You sob, begging him not to tell your protective brother, shaking your ass onto him and telling him he could even cum inside if he wanted instead of telling your brother. Max groans at your gullibility. Silly girl, he croons as he bends down to whisper in your ear, his muscled abs pressing down on you. I was always going to do that anyways, hmm? This ass belongs to me.

And then he’s moaning into your drooling mouth as his hips still above yours, draining his heavy balls into your pussy that had already been stuffed full of his thick, creamy load from the first round. Rivulets of your mixed juices run down the inside of your thighs, overflowing from the sheer amount of cum he’s pumped you full of. You know better than to ask him to wear a condom, instead praying that it was the wrong time of the month to get knocked up. Especially when he doesn’t let you get up and try to pee it out, instead murmuring he’s just going to stuff a couple of fingers inside and make sure you don’t waste anymore, okay? You try to resist, crawling away and wanting to save your poor, overstimulated clit but once again Max easily holds you still. Hmm, guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson and use my cock to plug you up, he threatens meanly, making tears fall down your face again and his dick twitches with interest. Every man had his pleasures, and world champion Max Verstappen’s was to see the Leclerc baby sister crying and begging for him. Sick bastard, you think distantly through a pleasurable haze as he sinks back inside your gummy walls and makes you keep his cock warm.

Your secret affair with the Dutch Lion continues easily throughout the year. And at the end of your contract, at the yearly FIA prizegiving, you attend with Charles instead of with the Redbull team, dutifully doing your part as the Leclerc sister now that your term at a rival garage was done. At one point you get up from dinner, saying you had to find the bathroom, but end up gone for 20 minutes, missing Cha being awarded overtake of the year for when his Ferrari had divebombed the leading Redbull. Later, when everyone is mingling, Charles walks over to Max’s table, shaking his hand and taking a seat to reminisce about the season. They’d come so far together from their childhood karting days, wasn’t it heartwarming now that they stood together on the F1 stage?

The two men laugh, catching up on missed updates during the busy end of season. Soon they’re talking about their love lives, Max congratulating Cha on his relationship he’s recently made public. The Ferrari driver warmly returns the compliment, saying whoever the Redbull driver was seeing recently must be treating him well because he’s never seen Max so relaxed before. He’s seen the gossip magazines speculate who the silhouette of a mystery girl seen making out on Max’s lap in a paparrazi shot through his car window. Max slyly commented that it was good the camera hadn’t been able to go lower, because then they’d have seen that she’d actually been bouncing on my dick underneath her skirt. Charles laughs at Max’s deviousness, patting him on the back for being such a shameless fucker.

Charles had forgotten to go find the youngest Leclerc, which was just as well because he would never have been able to guess where you had been hiding. You’re diligently on your knees, drooling on Max’s cock underneath the tablecloth, safely tucked in close between his spread legs. Your brother is completely unaware that the girl he and Max are joking about is his innocent baby sister, who’s currently worshipping his rival’s thick length eagerly. Paying the price for her brother’s overtake on the track with her glossy pink lips, just as Max had ordered you too when he found out what award his rival was getting tonight.

As the night continues, all formality lost as the party goers make use of the open bar, it was all to easy for the blonde Dutchman to make you follow him to the private bathroom. It’s so degrading, so mean of Max to do this, to have you on the dirty bathroom floor with your pretty curls unpinned from the classy updo you’d spend ages styling. Your expensive red silk dress hangs off your hips and exposes your bare, bouncing tits to his hungry gaze. So slutty, no bra and all, hmm? You wanted me to fuck you tonight, didn’t you? Answer me! He slaps his hard length repeatedly against your chubby cheeks, spraying precum everywhere and making your perfect makeup run.

Soon mascara stained tears are dripping down your face as Max makes you finish sloppily sucking him off, his phone camera on you and recording every single filthy sound that fills the air. It’s obscene, the way his huge cock stretches your small plush lips open all the way and your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his tip grazes the back of your throat. Hmm, so eager to drink my cum, aren’t you? He coos, and you nod dazedly, your doe eyes glassy. Fuck, you’re such a good little slut, letting me do whatever I want you to your body. My own personal fucktoy. Bet you’d even let me piss down your throat if I wanted, huh?

You gag at this, trying to shake your head but finding it impossible with the strong grip he has on your hair. Max chuckles at your panicked expression, reassuring you not to worry, he wasn’t that mean. You don’t believe him, because later he bends you over the bathroom counter and makes you look in the mirror to see where his leaking cock repeatedly sinks in to the hilt, stretching your cunny out yet again, filling it with his thick seed. You text Cha some excuse about feeling unwell and leaving early as Max buckles you into his passenger seat, knowing there was no way you could explain your absolutely wrecked appearance to your brother afterwards.

You’ve realized that the legal end of your Redbull contract really had no say on anything. Because at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was what Max wanted - and he wanted you to stay by his side, forever. So you let him take your hand in his a few months later at Lorenzo’s wedding, revealing the secret relationship to your family. Your mother is overjoyed, telling you both that you always had her blessing, ever since you’d been kids. Your brothers take a lot more convincing, of course, as well as Max swearing privately to Cha that you certainly hadn’t been the girl from the paparazzi car incident, he’d never treat the Leclerc princess like that of course! He was a playboy before, sure, but for you he was willing to stop all that and commit.

Charles gives you two his begrudging yes, seeing how attentive Max was with you, always intently watching you whenever you entered the same room as him and always knowing where you were if you walked away. And the way you’d look up adoringly at the blonde, desire and love clear in your doe eyes. Soon you’ve accepted Max’s offer to move into his penthouse, unpacking all the lingerie and diamond necklace sets he’s been buying you for months. And when he comes home at the end of a tiring day, sighing and settling on the living room couch, you now know to anticipate Max’s needs before he has to tell you. You crawl over to him, wearing skimpy lingerie in his favourite colour, nuzzling your face into his clothed thigh and asking please Maxie, could you please suck him off, your mouth felt empty without him?

He places a loving kiss to your forehead and unbuckles his belt for you, cooing praises at what a good little pet you were being for him. This time, when he cums, you have no issue greedily swallowing every single drop of his hot, sticky cum, licking your well trained lips. So yummy, Maxie…Would you like my pussy or my ass next?

He smirks down at your slutty words, a dazed expression on your face, dumbly ready to please him however he liked, whenever he was in the mood, wherever he wants it. Nothing quite beats having his own personal toy, even if it’s taken some time to break you in. Doesn’t matter now, though, because it has been worth it. Because you’ll never leave his side again, completely devoted to him, the concept of being with any other man ruined for you.

Time for him to make good on his childhood promise, Max thinks. Make you his vrouw, his wife, once and for all.

[beah388love]

Fainting spell

Full Masterlist Lando Norris Masterlist

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Summary: you have pots syndrome and faint on live

Warnings: Reader faints, fainting, swearing, bad language, blood?, reader gets injured!!! (Please tell me if I missed any?!!!)

“Where’s y/n?” Lando read out from the chat with a smile “she’s currently sat over there-“ lando said as he looked over to you with a smile, “she’s sat in the corner of the room on her phone- baby C’mere” lando said as he held his hand out gesturing for you to come sit on his lap.

You smiled as you walked over to them both “hi everyone…” you smiled as you sat on landos lap, you felt a wave of dizziness hit you but you shook it off.

You stayed there for awhile until lando got thirsty “hang on max, I’m gonna go grab my water bottle” lando said as you got up from his lap so he could go grab it.

You felt the same dizziness when you got up too fast, “y/n? You okay?” Max asked when he saw you looked pale and you nodded “I’m fine..I’m just gonna grab my phone” you said and max nodded as he read the chat.

As you took another two steps you felt the dizziness but ten times worse, your vision went black and you felt yourself collapse to the ground, hitting your head as you did.

“Is y/n okay?” Max read out confused “yes guys she’s fine she just went to grab her phone..” max said with furrowed brows, max has his headphones on so he didn’t hear or see you faint behind him.

User1: OMFG IS SHE OKAY?!

User2: DID SHE FAINT?!

User3: MAX TAKE YOUR FUCKING HEADPHONES OFF

Used4: BEHIND U DUDE- SHES LITERALLY PASSED OUTTT

User5: OMG SHE BETTER BE OKAY!

User6: UHM- WHY DO I SEE BLOOD ON THE FLOORRR?!

Max looked behind him, thinking the chat was messing with him but when he looked behind him and saw you on the floor he quickly threw his headphones off and sprinted out of his chair.

“Y/n?! Fuck- y/n? Are you okay?” He asked but you was completely unconscious, and that’s when he saw the cut on your head and the blood.

“Fuck- LANDO! LANDO!” Max yelled out as he held your head gently, “LANDO!” Max yelled again.

“what did you rage quit again?” Lando laughed as he walked in but his smirk left when he saw max holding you passed out and a massive gush on your head “what happened?!” Lando asked worried

“I- I don’t know I had my headphones on-“ max said as lando carried you onto max’s bed.

“It’s alright- she just fainted…she’s got pots remember?” Lando reminded him and max sighed in relief with a hand on his chest “you could’ve fucking reminded me!”

“I just did!” Lando argued as he checked your cut.

“Is her head okay? I think she hit it on my chair” max said and lando nodded “yeah…she might need a plaster but she’s fine” lando said as he sat next to you waiting for you to wake up.

“Fuckin hell I just had a panic attack” max said as he took a couple deep breaths. “Chat are going crazy” max said as he sat back down on his chair.

“Y/n’s fine you guys- she’s alright” max said “lando is sitting on my bed with her” max explained.

You stirred and felt a pain in your head, “ah- what happened? I feel dizzy” you said as you sat up but lando pushed you down gently “don’t get up too fast baby.”

“What happened?” You asked confused “you fainted and you cut your head but i put a plaster on it..it’s not that bad” lando said checking your cut again and you smiled “thank you..”

“Did you not feel dizzy before?” Lando asked and you nodded “why didn’t you tell me?” Lando huffed as he held your hand, “I didn’t think I’d actually faint- I’m sorry” you said as you wrapped yourself around him burying your face into his neck.

“It’s fine..wanna sit with me? The chat are all very worried about you” lando laughed making you grin “yes please” you smiled as lando carried you with him into his chair, “you wanna play?” He asked as he handed you his controller “thank you baby”

“Don’t let her play! She’s gonna beat me now…” max huffed

Max and lando are both very competitive and stubborn but they both knew for a fact you was better then them and would beat them in games you haven’t even played before.

“You have to be me though” lando grinned as he edited your character for you, “I’m not even allowed to be me in the game?” You asked with a shake of your head as lando giggled.

-

“See?! How does she do the quick turns so fast?! This is bullshit.” Max raged as he threw his head back onto his chair making you bite back your grin.

“Chat said your acting like a baby” lando laughed and max glared at him, “you go against her then” max huffed as he handed him his controller

“Baby Drink..” Lando reminded you as he passed you his water bottle, you took a couple sips as you read the chat.

User1: omg lando is the best bf ever-

User2: couple goals.

User3: is she okay y’all? Why’s she got a plaster on her head?

You smiled at the chat “I’m okay you guys, I cut my head when I fell but I’m alright…I can’t believe I fainted like ten minutes ago and I’m beating them both” you giggled as you rubbed your eye as a wave of dizziness hit you again, “lan?” You said and lando looked down from the screen towards you “mhm? You okay?” He asked as he stroked your thigh “no I feel dizzy again..” you said as you put the controller down “wanna take a break baby? Maybe you shouldn’t look at the screen…c’mon” lando said as he gestured for you to get up, he held you so you got up slowly but that wasn’t enough…you fainted again.

Your eyes rolled back as you collapsed in landos arms “shit-“ lando said as he laid you back down on top of him, “Sorry max- I think I’m gonna carry y/n to bed..You can carry on the stream though?” Lando said as he lifted you up into his arms.

“Nah it’s alright mate. I’m knackered anyway..Sorry guys! We’re gonna end it here- y/n’s okay though” max said to the camera before switching it off.

“Want me to help?” Max asked and lando shook his head “nah it’s alright…Night!” Lando said as he left with you “night” max grinned as he watched lando try to shut the door but failed repeatedly until he just kicked it and left “stupid door.”

“That is my door y’know?” Max shook his head and lando smirked “yes I do know that.”

-

Lando gently laid you onto your bed and quickly grabbed your water bottle adding cold water with ice. “Lan?….did I faint again” you asked and lando nodded as he handed you your bottle.

“Sorry..” you sighed and lando scrunched his face “do not say sorry. It’s not like you do it on purpose”

“I love you- Cuddle?” You asked with a smile and he grinned as he jumped on the bed and wrapped himself around you “duh”

“Is max okay? Is he trying to shut his door or something?” You asked confused when you heard a door shutting and closing making lando smirk.

“He’s fine…let’s just sleep” lando smiled as he rested his face into your neck.

“LANDO! You broke my door! The handle doesn’t work!” Max yelled and you looked down to lando who was biting back his laugh.

“I was only unconscious for a couple minutes!” You shook your head and he couldn’t hold back his laugh.

“ARE YOU LAUGHING AT ME?!” Max yelled and you both covered your mouths as you nearly cried from laughter.

I hope you enjoyed it lol

[pucksandpower]

Can I vent for a second? I never want to be one of those people who tries to dictate what others should write … but this is a huge pet peeve of mine.

Y/N is not the first female driver in Formula 1.

Maria Teresa de Filippis, Lella Lombardi, Divina Galica, Desiré Wilson, and Giovanna Amati did not put their blood, sweat, and tears into breaking barriers in real life only to be erased in fanfiction.

Y/N can be the first female driver in decades. Y/N can be the first female driver to race for a particular team. Y/N can be the first female driver to earn at least one point. Y/N can be the first female driver to stand on the podium. Y/N can be the first female driver to win.

But she is not the first female driver in Formula 1.

Don’t take that away from the real women who sacrificed so much to do what many deemed impossible.

[taasgirl]

blame - driver!reader x grid

summary: driver!reader goes to war protecting her teammate and best friend, max verstappen.

a/n: this is NOT a romance smau!!

liked by user76, user98, and 6, 872, 014 others f1 Following a breach of conditions set by the FIA, Max Verstappen will serve a mandatory community service period.

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynusername just say ya'll can't handle him and move on!!!

user27 be careful y/n, they'll send you too user46 HAHA SHE'S SO REAL

user51 this is so stupid

user90 who decided this???

user75 Okay I understand him getting community service for the Ocon incident, but for swearing?

user21 they're treating max like he's a child

liked by oscarpiastri, redbullracing, and 2, 379, 918 others ynusername unbothered, moisturised, and definitely plotting to overthrow the fia!

tagged: maxverstappen1

user59 My dreams 5 minutes before my alarm:

user61 y/n and max are never beating the platonic soulmates allegations

user87 Get yourself a teammate that fights the FIA on your behalf @/estebanocon

maxverstappen1 I was going to say something nice then I saw the last photo.

ynusername pls still compliment me x

oscarpiastri I agree with the caption

landonorris ur too ashy to be moisturised

view ynusername's story...

caption only the FIA could ruin a beautiful flight @/alex_albon

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 1, 256, 280 others ynusername me and bro suiting up to destroy the FIA

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

lewishamilton This is why you're my favourite on the grid

ynusername this is why you're the 🐐

oscarpiastri Hey I hope you were joking when you said you'd be turning into a grid terror haha (please be joking)

ynusername don't worry ur safe xx

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS Y/N???

landonorris If me and my gang pull up ahh post

ynusername yup you're now my number one target for unironically using 'ahh'

maxverstappen1 I hope I am bro

ynusername there's no one i'd rather serve community service with

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton, and 3, 287, 3389 others ynusername don't worry I won't actually replicate crashgate. however, please know that I have free reign over my radio xx

landonorris Thank god u had me scared for a minute

user49 y/n is taking this too far 😭

ynusername oh i can go further if needed

lewishamilton HAHA this is gold y/n

ynusername when I have the praise of sir lewis hamilton then I know that I'm doing something right

user20 OMG Y/N GOING INSANE ON RADIO IS A NEEEED

user91 y/n is the only reason i'm tuning in this weekend

view ynusername's story...

caption: I have some business to attend to this sunday afternoon

liked by user62, user87, and 209, 557 others f1updates Not shy on the radio so far! Y/N on the formation lap, and she'd already quizzing her engineer.

user83 she's so unserious i love her

user90 This is my sign to strictly watch her onboard today

user41 y/n really is going to put on a show huh

liked by user 34, user75, and 1, 722, 981 others f1updates A few of the unhinged thing's Y/N was saying during today's race. Safe to say that she may be sporting a ban for the next race.

user38 her engineer replying with 'affirm' is so fucking funny to me

user92 And ya'll still wonder why she's my fave driver

user47 THE WAY THIS ISN'T EVEN EVERYTHING SHE SAID

user28 what else did she say??

user47 @/user28 she went on a whole tangent about how stroll is a prick that shouldn't be in f1 😭😭

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 3, 615, 248 others ynusername FIA knew I'd be too powerful for another race (hey at least bestie doesn't have to do community service).

maxverstappen1 You're insane I love you

ynusername dinner is still on you right?

landonorris NOOOOOO RIP Y/N

ynusername bitch i'm still alive

oscarpiastri Welcome back Kevin Magnussen liked by ynusername

redbullracing She might be crazy, but she's our kind of crazy!

ynusername pls keep me employed ya'll

view landonorris's story...

caption Yes, she still has the helmet on

view maxverstappen1's story...

caption Okay time for us to get to work

eeee i hope you guys liked this, please let me know if you did!

[sweeterlovers]

FINALLY / LANDO NORRIS

lando norris x private girlfriend reader / SMAU FIC

FACE CLAIM / none

WARNINGS / none

-

TWITTER

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 127,362 others

yourusername landed in singapore 🇸🇬

view all comments

user3 ARE WE GOING TO SEE Y/N IN THE PADDOCK??????????

user55 I HOPE 🤞 🤞

user2 WAIT I’M EXCITED TO SEE HER OUTIFT

oscarpiastri who won the chess game?

yourusername who do you think???

oscarpiastri if i were to guesssss……. you?

landonorris yeah no kidding 🙃

yourusername sucks to suck 😜😜

user1 ngl that second photo was low key a jump scare

user6 NO CAUSE IT REMINDED ME OF THOSE TIKTOK POVS OF LIKE MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH LANDO

user7 LMAOOO

user99 i see that tannn!!!

user00 the outfit hits!

user33 ARE WE JUST GOING TO IGNORE THAT LAS PHOTO????

user5 FRR!!! i’m having a heart attack

user765 THOSE MUSCLES 🤤🤤🤤🤤

user42 y/n you are a LUCKY woman!!!!

user6 wish that was me 😪😪

user74 us lando girlies are SCREAMING

user9 more like screaming without the s……

user015 FOUL FOUL

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by wagsf1, paddockfits, and 16,424 others

f1wags Y/N (lando norris’s girlfriend) has arrived at the singapore grand prix!!!!!

view all comments

user5 she looks great!!!!

user2 LANDO IS ON POLE GUYS

user7 i hope he’ll win!!

user836 yesss!!!! and y/n can see him win 🥹🥹

user89 look at that face card!!!!

user7034 the outfit is 10/10

user3 hopefully she can bring lando some good luck!

user22 i hope!!!!!

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 204,725 others

yourusername P1!!! MY RACE WINNER ❤️❤️❤️ I CAN’T BELIEVE I GOT TO SEE YOU WIN IN PERSON! YOU DID AMAZING BABY I LOVE YOU 😘

view all comments

user6 AWW

user777 YES I LOVEEEEEEE

landonorris thank you baby 🥰

yourusername SO SO PROUD OF YOU

user6 P1 BABYYYYYYYYYY 💪

user8 WE GOT A MCLAREN P1 AND P3

user005 MCLAREN DOMINANCE

user5 such a great win!!!

user42 lando you’re a phenomenon !

user3 👏👏👏👏👏👏👏

mclaren strong performance no? 💪💪

yourusername BEYOND STRONG

user7 she’s such a proud girlfriend 🥹🥹🥹

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 638,272 others

landonorris winning is great but the aftermath with you is even better ❤️

view all comments

user6 cuties

yourusername i love you so much 🫶🏻

landonorris i love you too baby

user88 what if i cried

user00 it’s been an emotional race

mclaren 🙌🤍

user44 so so adorable wtf

maxfewtrell great job mate 👏

landonorris thank you!

-

TEAM RADIO / SWEETERLOVERS - lando norris win!

[lucyrose191]

TAME THE WOLFF| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Angry!Toto Wolff x Calm!Wife!reader

Summary; A few scenarios in which Toto is angry and frustrated and you’re there to calm him down and save his poor team from his wrath

Warnings; angry Toto.

F1 Master List

It was no secret that during a race weekend Toto could get a little….frustrated.

Okay, frustrated was putting it way too lightly, the man got way too passionate about his work and when things didn’t go the way they’re supposed to it was like a volcano was erupting in his mind and he just loses all sense of control leading him to his famous actions of smashing headphones.

The Austrian was already intimidating enough with his tall stature and the confidence he eluded but when he was angry he wasn’t just intimidating, he was scary.

The way his dark eyes seemed to turn almost entirely black and how the veins in his forehead throbbed were signs that had the Mercedes team shifting in their seats and the moment he started running his hands down his face was the moment the higher people in the team would get their phones out and call for help.

That help being you.

It had taken a long time for the team to acknowledge the effect you had on their team principle because he never got angry when you attended races but it was when you arrived to races later in the day that they started to see how things changed.

It was one particular day when Toto had arrived to the track already a bit frustrated, whether that was because of your absence or not they didn’t know but the pile up of disastrous events had lead to the team principle throwing things and shouting at the top of his lungs.

Then you arrived.

You certainly hadn’t expected to walk into the garage and be greeted by your husband in a fit of rage and the entire team stood frozen like petrified animals but the sight of fear on their faces had upset you greatly, especially knowing that it was because of Toto’s, quite frankly unnecessary, tantrum.

You walked over to your husband, who hadn’t even noticed you amidst his anger, and gently placed your hand on his arm.

Any member of the team would’ve called you crazy in that moment, walking over to the beast of a man with no fear on your face when he could have easily turned around and launched you across the room without even thinking.

He had been ready to throw a fist at the person who had the gall to touch him before he saw that it was you, his beloved wife looking at him with nothing but love in your eyes even as he was acting like a brute.

The team had never seen him change personalities so quickly in that moment.

You didn’t say anything to him, instead you placed your other hand on his back and guided him away from everyone, you wouldn’t have been able to move him by yourself but he allowed you to guide him away with absolutely no argument.

You opened the door of his makeshift office, saying nothing as he strode straight past you without a glance, steam practically spilling from his ears, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

Apart from his unsettled shuffling the room was filled with an intense silence as you shut the door, simply watching as his chest rose and fell harshly, you could see that he was trying to calm himself down now that he was in your presence but he was struggling to do so and that was only frustrating him further.

"Sit down," you gently instructed him, nodding towards the small sofa pushed up against the wall of the small room.

He wanted to argue but he stopped himself and did as he was told, sitting down on the sofa he buried his face into his hands.

You walked over to him and wrapped your arms around the back of his head, allowing him to lean into your stomach, you ran your hands through his hair.

"I understand you’re stressed and that things aren’t going the way you want them too but the way you’re shouting is unfair to the team, they are not your verbal punching bag but you’re treating them as they are."

Toto closed his eyes, releasing a heavy sigh, he wrapped his arms around your body to bring you closer.

He knew you were right, you always were and that’s what he loved about you, how you were always there to talk some sense into him.

He didn’t say anything though, he just held you firmly but gently and used your presence to calm him down.

There were many things he needed to be doing right now but he couldn’t find himself to care, right now the most important thing was calming down and spending time with you, no matter how long that took.

When the Mercedes team heard the door to their boss’ office unlock and saw the man himself walk out completely calm with you following shortly after, they were beyond amazed.

It was that day that the members of the team who had your number put you on speed dial in preparation for when an incident like this happened again, which it no doubt would.

"It seems that Toto Wolff is beginning to get a little bit frustrated down in the Mercedes garage."

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the unnecessary commentary that wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Your husband was getting agitated and the nearby team members were nervously glancing in his direction as though they were mentally preparing themselves for him to blow his top.

Instead of waiting for Toto to lose it, you stood behind him and loosely wrapped your arms around him, thumbing at the collar of his shirt.

Everyone around could see the tension immediately release from his body just from your comforting touch.

Toto grabbed one of your hands with his own, stroking his thumb back and forth across your skin, using the motion as a way to ground himself.

The whole garage went silent at the sight of both of their cars spinning off the track in turn 1. What once was going to be a promising race from starting second and third has turned into a disaster in such a short amount of time.

Everyone was utterly speechless as the entire team just sat there staring at their monitors in shock.

But then they actually acknowledged that it was silent and all simultaneously turned towards their boss with confused stares only to see you blocking him from the cameras that were pointing into the garage, leaning down and whispering, what they could only guess were calming, words to him.

Whilst the cameras couldn’t see his face, the team could and they could tell he was, rightfully so, furious as the situation, he wasn’t shouting or throwing things.

He definitely wanted to but he wasn’t.

You weren’t really in the mood to be in the garage today surrounded by so much noise to the point you could barely hear yourself think and the smell of fuel so strong it made you nauseous but you still wanted to support your husband as you weren’t able to accompany him everywhere he went so you settled in his makeshift office on what was possibly the worlds smallest sofa with your laptop sitting in your lap and your headphones placed over your ears to block out the noise from the team outside and the cars on the track.

It had been hours and you were content in the alone time you were getting, it was just you and your music playing in your ears that you didn’t notice the multiple calls you were receiving.

Unbeknownst to you, outside of his office, your husband was kicking off and nothing anyone did or said could calm him down.

The team had never witnessed Toto as angry as he was right now, the veins in his forehead more prominent than ever and whilst most didn’t understand the German words coming out of his mouth, they knew he couldn’t be saying anything nice.

Bono was trying to get a hold of you for possibly the twentieth time and he was still having no luck, he felt the pressure of the teams eyes on him, begging for the news that you’d be coming knowing that he was only one of a few that had your number and the means to find you right now but he wasn’t getting anywhere.

Poor Lewis and George were getting the brunt of the Austrian’s anger and even though they hadn’t a clue of what he was saying, they were starting to question the security of their jobs.

Luckily, a mechanic who had just entered the garage and was completely taken aback by the scene in front of him, awkwardly side shuffled to Bono and questioned what was going on. "He’s acting crazy! I can’t get a hold of Y/N."

"Didn’t she go straight into his office when they arrived earlier?" The mechanic asked.

Bono looked at him in shock and relief before jumping to his feet and wasting no time as he jogged in the direction of Toto’s office.

It was rude but he didn’t bother knocking, he almost cried when he saw you sitting there.

You got the fright of your life as the door burst open but the sight of a frantic Bono caused you to remove your headphones and look at him in confusion.

"Oh thank god you’re here! Toto’s gone mental!"

You released a sigh at his words and pushed your laptop to the side and got up from the sofa. "What for now?"

"I honestly have no idea but if he doesn’t calm down soon then Lewis and George might just start crying and Toto looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel."

The moment you stepped out into the short, narrow corridor you heard your husbands angry German shouting. "Mein Gott," you muttered to yourself.

Entering the main part of the garage you weren’t greeted by a pretty sight at all, Bono wasn’t overreacting in the way he described Toto, Lewis and George and let’s not forget about the rest of the team.

You headed straight for your husband, not acknowledging the looks of relief you saw build on everyone’s faces, especially the two drivers’.

You didn’t even need to say anything to Toto, you just stood in front of him and looked up at him with a stern gaze that soon got him to shut up but his eyes were still blazing with fury as he looked down at you, you knew his anger wasn’t aimed at you, he was just still pent up with emotions.

You nodded in the direction of his office and simply walked away, expecting him to follow after you if he knew what was good for him.

He followed you.

The moment you heard him close the door you turned to him. "This needs to stop."

He looked at you furiously, "how am I supposed to stop when I have two drivers that can’t even get through a lap without crashing into each other!"

"Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Torger!" Your voice cut through the air as you glared at him which soon caused his face to shift from angry to wounded as you scolded him.

"How hard is it for you to simply sit them down and give them a stern talking to, there’s no need for the way you completely blow your top, you’re acting like a child throwing a tantrum."

He was still beyond angry, you could see it in his eyes and the way he shifted on his feet and he was about to retort but you cut him off. "I don’t want to hear you right now, I want you to sit down in silence and calm down before a single word comes out of your mouth."

He pursed his lips, not at all happy but he did as he was told and sat down in the chair behind the small desk, you didn’t spare him a glance as you sat yourself back where you were before Bono came searching for you, pulling your laptop back onto your lap to finish what you had been doing.

It was a good 15/20 minutes later when you heard him get up from his seat and make his way over to you. He sat beside you and rested his head on your shoulder causing you to roll your eyes but a smile grew on your face at his actions, you were glad he couldn’t see it though.

You continued to carry on with what you were doing, letting him decide how he wanted your conversation to go and so it remained silent for a few more minutes with you and Toto simply sat there, him resting against you simply soaking up the comfort of your presence.

He shifted and pressed a kiss to your temple before returning back to his position. "Are you mad at me?" He asked when you remained silent.

You closed your laptop and put it away before shifting the both of you so you were up straight and looking at each other. "No," you told him honestly, "I just wish you wouldn’t let your frustrations get the best of you all the time."

He looked down at your words before looking back into your eyes with a sincere look, "I’m sorry."

"It’s okay," you smiled at him, reaching out a hand to brush his hair back. "We just need to find a way for you to keep yourself together."

"You’re the way," he replied immediately which stunned you and he was okay with that. He pulled you into his arms and you both just sat there.

You could be quite the opposite at times but you were content with that because you would always be there to ground him whenever his emotions got out of control.

[detroit-grand-prix]

Wildest Dreams Chapter 26 - Holy Ground, Part 2

Chapter summary: It's qualifying day in Texas. Bee is stuck on an emotional rollercoaster. It might be more terrifying than an actual race itself.

Content warning: N/A

Chapter word count: 4,084

Author's Notes: I apologize for the long break between chapters. This story has been (technically) completed on AO3 for a while, but I didn't realize I didn't actually post these last two chapters when I was building my fanfic masterlist a long time ago. I'm trying to catch up on working on that, so that means posting these last two chapters of the story for those of you that are following it exclusively through my tumblr. I was originally going to make this chapter both qualifying and the race, but I realized how monstrous of a chapter that would be when I got to the end of qualifying and was already well over 3,000 words in.

Plus, I think it will be nice to give qualifying day and race day each their own chapter, you know?

While I've been writing this, I've tried to keep some of the race results and things that happened during the race as similar to the real world as possible (minus the minor deviations of Williams having better results, etc.) but expect me to take a lot of liberty with this next chapter for the sake of narrative.

Chapter Text

Circuit of the Americas, Austin, Travis County, Texas, United States of America October 23rd, 2021

Saturday meant practice and qualifying. Bee thought she was getting a decent handle on the track - she was in the top half of the free practice timesheets, at least.

She had some time to eat between practice and qualifying, but she found she didn’t have much of an appetite - the pressure was starting to sink in.

Susie and Emilia were both sitting with her in the Williams hospitality area while she picked half-heartedly at a salad.

“You need to eat more, Phoebe. You’re going to regret it later if you don’t.” Emilia said.

“I know! I just -” Bee said, frustrated. She wasn’t a little kid avoiding her vegetables, her stomach just felt like it would reject any food at the moment. “I don’t know why, I haven’t felt this nervous since my first race.”

“Hey,” Susie said, reaching out to lay her hand over Bee’s. “I know, it’s a lot of pressure to want to do well for your home crowd, because they’re here to support you. But you can’t let yourself get too caught up in that - once you get in the car and put your helmet on, just treat it like you would racing anywhere else in the world. Plus, the people that came all the way here to see you race are going to support you no matter what happens.”

“I know, but -” Bee sighed. “Okay. You’re right. That’s exactly how it happened at my first race. Once I got going, it just felt… normal. I guess I’m just overthinking it because it’s here.”

Emilia looked thoughtful for a second, and checked her watch. “We have a little bit of time before we need to get you warmed up for qualifying, but… if you’re feeling nervous, we can spend a little more time on some deep breathing, or massage, if that will help.”

Bee perked up a little bit at the suggestion. “That sounds… nice. Okay. Let’s do that.”

“But -” Emilia said, “I want you to eat at least a little more before we do. It’s not going to do you any good if you’re nervous and hungry during qualifying.”

Bee sighed, and took a few more bites of her salad, making sure to at least get all of the pieces of roast chicken that dotted her salad. If nothing else, protein was good - it would help keep her full.

They said goodbye to Susie with a promise to meet back up in the garage after qualifying, and headed back to Bee’s driver room. Emilia turned off the lights as she closed the door- “I hate these fluorescent lights. There. That’s probably more relaxing.” - as Bee hopped up onto the massage table and laid down on her stomach.

“Actually,” Emilia said, gently. “I don’t know how you’d feel about this… and you don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable with it, but it might feel better without your undershirt in the way. I’ll be able to push deeper into your muscles, at least. And I have an aromatherapy lotion that might help calm you down. I can use that, if you’d like?”

Bee’s brain filled with static at the suggestion, but she still felt herself sitting back up, wiggling out of her snug fireproof shirt, and setting it on a shelf next to the massage table, like it was a reflex. “That… sounds nice. Yeah.” She said.

“Okay. If you get uncomfortable at any point, let me know, and we can just do what we normally do.” Emilia said.

Emilia found the bottle of lotion in her kit, put some into her hands, and rubbed them together to warm things up. The room filled with the floral scent of chamomile and lavender. Bee breathed deeply. It was already comforting.

“Okay. Let me know if my hands are too cold.” Emilia said, pressing them gently across the middle of Bee’s back. They weren’t cold at all - they were pleasantly warm, and she was pressing with such a weight that Bee felt herself calm down further.

“Oh, you are kind of tight today.” Emilia said, as her hands traveled over the solid planes of Bee’s upper back, still staying on top of her bra. She was gentle at first, letting the warmth of her hands and the calming effects of the lotion take some of the tension out of Bee’s muscles, but eventually let herself press deeper and deeper, attempting to release the knots in earnest.

It seemed to be working - Bee was already noticeably more relaxed by the time Emilia finished.

“Okay, sit up, please.” Emilia said.

Bee opened her eyes back up and did as Emilia requested. “Let’s go through some breathing, now.” Bee was sitting on the table, with Emilia standing in front of her. “Give me your hands.”

Bee didn’t ask why, she just held them out. Emilia took them in hers, and Bee couldn’t help notice how warm and soft they felt. She wasn’t sure why Emilia was doing this, but it felt almost grounding as they went through their normal deep breathing progression.

“There. Feel better?” Emilia said, turning the light back on once they’d finished.

“Yeah, actually, a lot.” Bee said.

“Good.” Emilia said. “Then we should plan on taking a little more time for this tomorrow as well. Here -” She said, handing Bee her nomex undershirt. “Let’s go ahead and go through your warm-ups before you have qualifying.”

After Bee got warmed up and ready, she headed back out to the Williams garage for the briefing she always had with Gaetan before sessions. Claire caught her on the way in, though.

“There was someone looking for you earlier. I think it was one of the guests you invited?”

“Was it my parents?” Bee said, looking around. She’d given her parents paddock passes, but they were sitting in the grandstands with the rest of Bee’s family for qualifying, as far as she knew. They’d be in the garage for the race tomorrow.

“No, it was two women, actually. I think they’re in the viewing gallery,” Claire said, pointing to the rows of chairs set up in the back of the garage. They’d often have guests - usually employees of their sponsor companies - seated there to watch the race.

Bee craned her neck to the back of the garage area, and saw a middle-aged woman with bright red hair, wearing a Williams t-shirt, seated next to a younger woman, who was wearing a matching shirt. “Oh! Okay! I know who that is.” She was excited.

“Tell Gaetan I’ll be over in a moment, please!” She told Claire, over her shoulder, as she walked to the back of the garage.

As she walked up, the woman didn’t see her - she was looking at her phone, until -

“Adelle?”

Adelle looked up, and it looked like it took a second for Bee’s presence to register, but after a split-second, she was on her feet, pulling Bee into a tight hug. Bee would have normally been startled by the unsolicited affection from a near-stranger, but not this time. She returned Adelle’s embrace.

“Phoebe Stallard, after all this time. I can’t believe it.”

Adelle stepped back, looking Phoebe up and down. “I really can’t believe it. Look at you. I knew when I met you, you’d make it someday. I was so excited to get your package, and - oh, this -” she said, indicating the woman next to her, who was now standing as well. “Is my daughter, Olivia. We started watching the races together again once I told her there was a woman that got signed to Williams.”

Bee stuck her hand out to shake hands with Olivia. “It’s nice to meet you, Olivia.”

“Honestly, I thought she was crazy when she told me she knew you, like, you don’t know somebody just because you were sitting next to them on a flight, mum. But then she got your package in the post and I thought, well, I guess she does know her.”

Bee laughed. “Well, it was a long flight! We got to talk about a lot, and she told me something I really needed to hear at that point in my career - I was just coming off of a very rough period, then, and something your mom told me let me know I was… on the right track. Pardon the pun.”

They talked for a few minutes about how Olivia had gotten bored with watching Formula 1 years ago because there wasn’t anyone she really felt like rooting for. But at the end of 2019, she’d read the news that Bee had been signed to Williams and called her mother up immediately and told her that there was a female driver for the first time in decades. Adelle, of course, told her daughter that she had met Bee a few years prior on a flight back from Mexico. Olivia was currently in university, so she and her mother watched the races together via Facetime every Sunday.

“I really liked Susie Wolff… way back in, what, 2014? 2015? I thought she was going to make it onto the grid, but then she retired.” Olivia said. “So I’m glad you made it, and it’s funny that you’re on the team she was on.”

“Actually,” Bee said, “She’s my mentor, more or less. She’s one of the reasons I’ve been able to make it. I think she will be around the garage after qualifying if you want to meet her. I don’t think she’d mind.”

Adelle and Olivia got excited about that. They’d always wanted to meet her.

Bee eventually had to leave for her briefing, but she gave Adelle and Olivia each one last hug.

“Thank you so much for the passes and the shirts. We’ve had an amazing time here so far, and I’m really glad we got to do this together.” Olivia said.

Bee smiled. “It was my pleasure.”

After meeting Adelle and her daughter, the last of Bee’s nerves for qualifying had almost completely disappeared. Susie, of course, was right - the people that supported her would support her no matter how she did. She wanted to do her best, still, but the pressure of possibly letting people down was off.

She had her normal briefing with Gaetan, they went over the strategy for the day. They discussed some of the changes they’d made to her car after the morning free practice to try to compensate for some high tire wear they were seeing. It was a warm day, and this track was naturally hard on tires.

“…If you can get some speed taking Turn 9 flat, you don’t need to lift or brake for turn 10, the curve is gentle enough. And in Turn 11, make sure you get a good exit. It’s right before the DRS zone, so that’s where you’re going to want to try to aim for most of your overtakes. Questions?” Gaetan said, going over the notes he’d taken from practice.

“Wait, turn 9, flat?” Bee said. Turn 9 was a chicane at the end of a series of s-curves, and you had to make sure to carry a wider line in turns 7 and 8 to position yourself to take turn 9 flat.

Oh, and you had to be a little brave. She had been lifting a little bit through that section, and losing some time in the sector.

“You can do it. You’ve gotten close already.”

She stuck her radio earbuds in her ears, pulled her HANS device and balaclava over her head, and clambered into the car - she would wait a few moments before she put her helmet on.

Emilia came over with her drink bottle and handed it to her. She squatted next to the car so she was level with the cockpit. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

“Okay, I think. I’m ready.” Bee said.

Emilia grabbed one of Bee’s hands from where it was resting on the top of the steering wheel, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You can do this. I -” Emilia paused. It looked like she wasn’t sure what she’d wanted to say. “I’m rooting for you.”

Bee smiled at her trainer. “Thank you. I’m going to do my best.” She squeezed Emilia’s hand back. It was time to pull on her helmet and gloves and get ready to start.

“Radio check, Phoebe. Are you ready?” Bee heard in her headset.

“Loud and clear, Gaetan. Let’s do this.”

The mechanics got her car set to launch, and as soon as she got the signal from her pit crew supervisor, she was off and running on her out lap.

She took a moment to look at the grandstands as she passed them, and she was astounded. It was always a little hard to see, but it was clear that they were absolutely packed. She also saw something that stunned her - a veritable sea of American flags.

She thought for a moment that they were just because this was an American race, but she had been to races here before and hadn’t ever seen anything quite like this. Those fans were here for her. It gave her a shot of confidence before she crossed the line to start her first flying lap.

She was dialed in. It felt like she and the car were finally able to work together. Up the hill of turn 1, turning into the sharp left-hander at the top, through the sweeping high-speed turn 2, into 3 and 4’s copy of Silverstone’s Maggots through Chapel turns. Through 5 and 6 she had to find the right balance of the throttle to carry the speed through into the Interlagos-style S-curves. She almost had it flat through turn 9 like Gaetan had told her, but she was hampered by traffic.

That’s okay - she’d get it next lap. Through the tight hairpin and into the long back straight. And then, into the series of curves modeled after the Hockenheimring, and probably Bee’s favorite part of the track. She had to make sure to use turns 13 and 14 to get the right entrance into turn 15, which was hard-braking down to almost half-speed. Getting the right line here was essential, but she swore she could almost hear the roar from the infield grandstands as she passed. Three more sweeping corners and she was back at the start line with her first time set.

“Very good, Phoebe. That was P9 so far. Keep it up.” Gaetan said.

“Thanks. I got caught in traffic in sector 2, hopefully I can get it this time.”

“Copy. Keep pushing.”

She and George got through Q1 without issue, - strange that even just last year she was thrilled if she made it out.

In Q2, she managed to start building a rhythm of sorts, and finally managed to get around the turn 9 chicane flat - traffic was no longer an issue now that the first five had dropped out, and this wasn’t a short track anyway. She had to be careful about doing slower runs to cool her tires, though.

She had an incredibly quick lap during Q2, managing to set all green sectors - F1 used color-coded indicators on timesheets for each section of the track. Purple sectors meant that you had set the fastest time overall in that sector, green sectors meant that you had set your personal best for the day, and yellow sectors meant that you’d fallen short of your best time. All green sectors were good - it meant that her car was getting faster as the track evolved and was gaining more rubber from tires passing over it, increasing the grip of each car.

She went over the line once Q2 ended and waited to hear if she’d made it through to Q3. She made it for the first time in Turkey, but she ended her session right after Q2 because there was no point in running any more with her grid penalty at that race.

“Phoebe, that was P8, we are in Q3. Great job.”

A wave of relief washed over Bee as she drove back to the garage for the break between sessions. She only needed to run for 12 more minutes, and she was at least guaranteed to be in the top 10.

She did her best to keep herself calm as she went back out for more flying laps.

“Okay, Gaetan. Starting my flier right now, please keep me up to date between runs. I need to know where I can pick up some time for this one.”

“Copy, Phoebe.”

He gave her lap-by-lap updates, until eventually, the session was ending. Phoebe pushed with everything she had on the last lap she knew she was timed, and held her breath as she crossed the line, waiting to hear her placement for tomorrow.

“Okay, Phoebe. That is… P…”

She waited, nervous as she started her in lap. "Asshole." She thought. Gaetan was usually fairly no-nonsense, and didn't usually have much of a sense of humor over the but right now, he was teasing her.

“6!” He said. “That was an amazing last lap, you just edged out Sainz. Wonderful work.”

Phoebe exhaled, and could feel the tension leave her body with a laugh.

“Holy shit. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She wasn’t even really sure what else to say.

“And you’ve out-qualified Mr. Russell! He’s at P8 for tomorrow. Incredibly well done.” Gaetan added.

It was the first time she remembered out-qualifying George. In Monza, he was ahead of her during qualifying, but she managed to overtake him in the race. She drove back to the garage and felt triumphant when she got out. Emilia and Susie were waiting for her, both gathering her into a hug at the same time as she climbed out of the car, before she even had a chance to take her helmet off.

“Where did that come from?” Susie asked Bee as she pulled off her helmet and balaclava. She was laughing. “You were driving like a woman possessed.”

“I kind of felt like it.” Bee said. “I really want to be on the podium tomorrow. I mean, I always want to be, but it feels like I might have a chance, now.”

She turned her head for a second, back toward the viewing gallery, and saw Adelle and her daughter.

“Oh! Before I go change and stuff, would you come with me for a second? There’s people here that want to meet you, if you have a second. I invited them. Do you remember me telling you about that woman I met on that flight? It was a long time ago.”

“I think… actually, I do remember that!” Susie said.

“Well, I managed to track her down.” Bee was already leading Susie back to the viewing gallery as she was talking.

It was really lovely, seeing Adelle and Olivia meet Susie. Bee felt a bit bad about putting Susie up to it without really asking first, but if Susie was annoyed, she definitely didn’t show it. Actually, she seemed happy that someone had recognized her racing career on her own merit. Bee had noticed that whenever Susie had to do press, people were far more interested in asking about Toto. Susie had a formidable career now on her own, as the former team principal and now CEO of a successful Formula E team.

After, Bee went to shower and change, and then she had a few press obligations and interviews to do. She had an interview with Netflix to do, but after that she was free. The rest of the day and evening felt like a bit of a blur. She met her extended family for dinner, and she brought Emilia with her. (This time, Emilia stuck with Bee’s advice and managed to avoid accidental extended conversations.)

After meeting with her family, she headed back to the hotel, intending to get a good night’s sleep - if she could. Tomorrow would be a big day. She said goodnight to Emilia and headed down the hall to her room, when, behind her, she heard someone calling her name from down the hallway.

“Phoebe!”

She turned around to see Charles Leclerc half-jogging toward her from down the hallway. He was a handsome man, with dark hair that was usually some degree of disheveled, light brown eyes, and a boyish, sweet-looking face. He reminded Bee of a cat, somehow.

“Oh! Hi, Charles.”

“I just wanted to tell you, good job today. You’ve really been improving all season.”

“Ah… thank you. I’m just trying not to be nervous about tomorrow.” Bee said, looking down at the strangely-patterned hallway carpeting. “I thought Germany was my home race because I grew up there, but racing in the country you represent is… different.”

“I understand.” He said.

“How… do you deal with the pressure of performing in your home race?” Bee asked him, still not really looking up at him.

He laughed a little, but it wasn’t really a genuine laugh, more of a sad one. “I’m not really the person to ask, I’ve never had a good result in Monaco.”

“Oh. Right. I’m sorry.” Bee said, looking up at him now. “I… forgot.”

There was a joke around Formula 1 that Charles Leclerc had a “Monaco curse”. He was the only Monegasque driver on the grid, but he had yet to actually finish any race in Monaco. He had gotten pole position when they raced there a few months ago, but a gearbox issue from a qualifying crash prevented him from even starting the race. In his season in Formula 2, he had to retire because of a loose tire from another car causing damage to his. Another crash ended his run when he raced for Sauber in his first F1 season, and he hit a wall in 2019. The 2020 race was canceled altogether.

“No, it’s okay. Because even though I still haven’t finished a race in Monaco, the people there support me, and want me to do the best I can. So that helps, a bit. I think it’s the case for you, here. I’ve never seen so many American flags in the grandstands every time I’ve been here. Even if you crash out completely, you might have some that are disappointed in you, but you will have so many more people that just want you to try again next time.”

It was basically the same thing Susie had told her yesterday, but it was nice to hear it from someone else, and from someone that had their share of issues with their home race.

“Thank you… that actually makes me feel a lot better. Good luck tomorrow.” Bee said, turning toward the door of her room to unlock it.

“You’re welcome. And good luck to you, as well.” Charles smiled, and turned back to head back to his own room.

Bee went into her room, plopped down on the end of her bed, and just enjoyed the quiet for a few minutes. It was the first time she’d been alone, really, all day, other than when she and Emilia were in her driver’s room earlier. Honestly, she’d wished Emilia was here now, instead of upstairs in her own room. But, it was probably good for her to have some alone time.

Finally, she went about the business of getting ready for bed - brushing her teeth, washing her face, flossing, and so on. She scrolled a little bit through TikTok and Twitter (she didn’t have a TikTok account where she posted things, she just liked to look), and then it was time for sleep.

After a few minutes of fruitlessly attempting to will herself into sleepiness, she decided to try a visualization technique that Natalie had taught her a while ago. While she usually chose to visualize the track, this time, she decided on another image.

It was tomorrow, the race was done, and she was on the podium. She didn’t really notice what step she was on, or care. The American flag was bright behind her, shining from one of the LED displays behind it. She had the flag draped around her shoulders. There was one of those Pirelli podium hats sitting on her head, covering her messy hair. She actually didn’t like hats in general and hardly ever wore them, but she’d wear that one proudly. She could feel the heat of the Texas sun, and she could feel the cool, heavy weight of the bottle of victory champagne in her hands as she popped it open. She felt the cold droplets of spray from the bottles of her competitors that were on the podium with her - she didn’t see who the other two were, she didn’t care. The full-throated roar of the home crowd was almost enough to drown out “Les Toreadors”.

She was finally able to fall asleep.

[neferaskingdom]

♡ Flirting? That’s a Track Limit Violation | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Y/N drops a cryptic elevator pic hugging some random dude and it’s like throwing a grenade into the F1 paddock. Charles and Arthur are ready to form an FBI task force, and the drivers are gossiping harder than a group of high schoolers at lunch. Max? He’s out here pretending he doesn’t care, but we all know he’s five seconds away from flipping a table. Nobody has a clue who the guy is, but Max is sweating, the internet is thriving, and the drama is peak entertainment.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: thank you soo much for 100 followers guys I never knew this many people would end up liking this little fic. screaming, crying, throwing up fr 😭. also sorry to everyone who had to read the wonky letters version. tumblr messed up my format and I had to individually fix the words.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 3 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted an Instagram Story:

📸: A blurry photo of Y/N hugging a guy in an elevator, only his back visible.

Caption: A single red heart emoji❤️

Replies:

danielricciardo:

Popcorn out. Watching the Leclerc brothers have an absolute meltdown in 3… 2… 1… 😂

charles_leclerc:

Who the hell is this guy? Y/N, answer me RIGHT NOW!

arthur_leclerc:

This better be a joke, or I’m tracking your location. WHO. IS. HE?

landonorris:

Wait… bitch did you just drop a boyfriend announcement with a blurry elevator pic?? DID MAX SEE THIS?!?

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

What does Max have to do with anything???

      ↪ landonorris:

OH MY LORD I CANNOT WITH YOU TWO

georgerussell63:

who dis?

alex_albon:

I feel like I just witnessed the calm before the storm. Charles is going to explode. Arthur’s already spiraling.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

Y/N, explain yourself. Who’s this guy?

arthur_leclerc:

SIS, YOU CAN’T JUST DROP A HEART AND EXPECT US TO BE CALM.

maxverstappen1:

So… new friend? Or something else?

      ↪ landonorris:

Max, you sound… interested? 👀

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Max, if you’re going to be subtle, you’re failing.

      ↪ danielricciardo:

Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how Charles is losing his mind over this while Max tries to act like he doesn’t care? 😂

      ↪ alex_albon:

Max pretending this is just a casual question while we all know he’s about to punch a wall.

lilyzneimer:

y/n_leclerc, the WAGs feel personally betrayed. We thought we were your ride or dies! 💔

charles_leclerc:

NO ONE IS ANSWERING MY QUESTIONS, AND I’M ABOUT TO START FLYING TO FIND THIS GUY.

      ↪ arthur_leclerc:

Charles, wait for me. I’ve got your back.

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Can you guys relax? It’s really not that serious.

lilymhe:

Hello??? y/n_leclerc, you ditched us for a man??? What happened to me being the love of your life? 😭

carmenmmundt:

I thought I was your only love 😞. I feel betrayed babes💔

f1_gossips tweeted:

F1 drivers are officially in meltdown mode after Y/N Leclerc posts a cryptic heart emoji with a mystery man. Charles and Arthur Leclerc are leading the charge, while Max Verstappen seems unusually ‘curious.’ What’s really going on here? 🤔

Comments:

user1:

Max ‘I’m totally not jealous’ Verstappen is the best version of Max.

user2:

Charles is on the verge of hunting this guy down while Max plays detective in the background.

user3:

MAX PRETENDING NOT TO CARE WHILE LITERALLY SWEATING THROUGH HIS RACE SUIT. I SEE YOU, VERSTAPPEN

user4:

This is going to end with Max accidentally confessing feelings. You heard it here first.

user5:

Y/N dropping a single heart emoji and causing the grid to spiral. POWER MOVE. 😈

user6:

Max is acting like he’s not freaking out, but I bet he’s checking her Insta every 10 minutes.

user7:

Arthur and Charles are about to pull up with baseball bats, and Max is trying to act like he’s just ‘concerned.’

y/n_leclerc posted an Instagram Story:

📸: Screenshot of her Instagram comments blowing up with messages from drivers, brothers, and the WAGs.

Caption: Y’all are doing TOO much. Chill, it’s not what you think! 😂

Replies:

charles_leclerc:

IF IT’S NOT WHAT WE THINK, THEN TELL US WHO HE IS. 😡

arthur_leclerc:

Sister, you better have a GOOD explanation for this. We are not playing.

landonorris:

Bro, Charles is about to have a meltdown, and Max is getting quieter. I don’t know which one is scarier.

danielricciardo:

I’ve never seen Charles so unhinged, and I live for this chaos. 🧨

georgerussell63:

You’ve been eerily quiet for someone who usually has a lot to say. Dont tell me this is serious?!?!

y/n_leclerc posted:

📸: Y/N and her best friend posing dramatically in the same elevator.

Caption: Relax, it’s just y/n_bff, my best friend. 😂 Y’all really lost your minds over an elevator hug, huh? Charles, Arthur, you can calm down now.

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU MADE US ALL PANIC FOR THIS?!

arthur_leclerc:

Y/N, YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO US.

maxverstappen1:

So… just a friend, huh? Good to know.

      ↪ landonorris:

Max, let out the biggest sigh of relief

      ↪ danielricciardo:

Max pretending he wasn’t two seconds away from launching an investigation.

      ↪ alex_albon:

Max, it's ok to breathe now. 😂

lilymhe:

Y/N, we need to talk about this betrayal. A PRANK AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US? 💔

      ↪ carmenmmundt:

You better make it up to us. We feel personally attacked.

f1gossips tweeted:

UPDATE: Y/N Leclerc has revealed the mystery man is just her best friend, but the damage has already been done. Max Verstappen, despite claiming not to care, was very quick to ask for details. Fans are now speculating on Max’s sudden interest. Could there be something brewing? 👀 #MaxYN #LeclercBrothers #PrankChaos #MaxNotJealous

Comments:

user8:

Max is like, ‘I’m not jealous, but… WHO IS THIS GUY?’ 😂

user9:

Charles and Arthur over here ready to fight while Max is low-key spiraling.

user10:

Max trying so hard to be subtle and failing MISERABLY.

user11:

Y/N is playing with fire, and I LOVE IT. She’s making Max sweat.

Groupchat Messages: (maxy/n truthers):

dudududu:

So… no real boyfriend?

albono:

Max, she literally just said that. You can chill now.

dudududu:

I wasn’t not chill. Just… you know, looking out for her.

albono:

Uh-huh. You sound real concerned for a ‘friend,’ Max. 😂

shoeysupremacy:

MAX, JUST ADMIT YOU’RE JEALOUS. IT’S PAINFUL TO WATCH.

norizz:

Max pretending not to care is the worst acting I’ve ever seen.

georgieporgie:

It’s the slowest, most awkward flirtation I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s amazing.

Twitter Reactions:

user12:

The longer this goes on, the more I think Max is one step away from confessing his feelings.

user13:

Max: ‘I’m not jealous, I’m just… CONCERNED.’

user14:

Max watching this whole thing unfold like it’s the worst pit stop of his life.

user15:

Max really out here pretending he didn’t have a minor breakdown over a blurry elevator pic.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: guys I think this might be my favourite spot now.

 Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 220,896 others.

Comments: 

maxverstappen1:

Just making sure. No weird guys in elevators, right?

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max, stop worrying about elevators. You’re being ridiculous.

      ↪ maxverstappen1:

I’m just saying. You could do better than a blurry elevator hug. Maybe someone who drives fast for a living. Just a thought.

      ↪ danielricciardo:

OH MY GOD, MAX IS FLIRTING. MAX IS REALLY DOING THIS.

      ↪ landonorris:

Max ‘I’m not jealous’ Verstappen is actually… shooting his shot? 😂

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Y/N, this is your fault. You’ve broken Max.

user16:

MAX FLIRTING??? IS THIS REAL LIFE???

user17:

Max really out here going from ‘I’m not jealous’ to flirting in the comments. What a journey.

user18:

I LOVE THIS. Y/N has Max spinning, and it’s beautiful.

user19:

Max flirted, and the world just shifted on its axis. Did anyone else feel that?

user20:

Max shooting his shot in the most awkward, Max way possible is sending me.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Sunsets🌞

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 426,276 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

The only thing more beautiful than this sunset is you

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

...Max, what are you doing?

      ↪ danielricciardo:

OH MY GOD, MAX, DID YOU JUST— DID YOU JUST FLIRT IN PUBLIC? 😂

      ↪ charles_leclerc:

MAX, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!! 😡

      ↪ arthur_leclerc:

YOU’RE DEAD, VERSTAPPEN.

      ↪ landonorris:

Y/N, RUN. MAX IS LOSING IT.

      ↪ lilymhe:

Y/N, is this your new strategy? Break him down with elevator pranks and watch him crumble? Genius.

user21:

MAX REALLY WENT FOR IT. This man is shooting his shot ON MAIN. 😱

user22:

Y/N’s sundress got Max sweating more than a red flag in Q3. 💀

user23:

Charles and Arthur in full meltdown mode while Max is out here simping. We LOVE TO SEE IT.

user24:

MAX JUST FLIRTED IN THE COMMENTS LIKE IT’S CASUAL?!

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Caffeine fix ☕

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Bet that coffee isn’t as sweet as you. 😘

      ↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX, STOP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. 😳

      ↪ landonorris:

STOP. MAX, YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE. 😂

      ↪ danielricciardo:

MAX, YOU CAN’T JUST DROP FLIRTY COMMENTS EVERYWHERE. Y/N’S IN SHOCK. 💀

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Max, for real. Are you okay? Blink twice if you need help.

lilymhe:

Y/N, please explain what kind of witchcraft you used to make Max simp THIS HARD. I need tips. 😂

alex_albon:

I’m both terrified and impressed at how fast Max has gone from 'I don't even like her' to 'full-on simp mode.'

charles_leclerc:

MAX. ENOUGH. I CAN’T HANDLE THIS.

      ↪ arthur_leclerc:

I’m grabbing the car keys. We’re handling this in person.

user25:

Max flirting in broad daylight while Charles and Arthur spiral into madness. THIS IS PEAK ENTERTAINMENT.

user26:

I need a documentary on how Max went from ‘I fucking hate her’ to dropping flirty lines under every post. 💀

user27:

Max is playing the long game. But damn, is he bad at being subtle.

user28:

I can’t decide if I’m living for this or dying of secondhand embarrassment for Y/N. Max, STOP. 😂

user29:

Y/N, blink twice if Max has you trapped in a flirty comment loop and you don’t know how to escape.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: “In the presence of great art, time stands still”

ps. yes I did copy that from google 🤗

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Tried to focus on the art but my eyes keep wandering back to you

      ↪ alex_albon:

MAX, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? 😵

      ↪ landonorris:

Max, bro… this is getting uncomfortable. 😂

      ↪ danielricciardo:

MAX IS GOING FULL ROMEO. SOMEONE STOP HIM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.

      ↪ georgerussell63:

Y/N, how are you even still functioning with this level of public simping?

      ↪ pierregasly:

I’m cackling. Max is like a flirty tornado right now. 💀

user30:

Max is one more flirty comment away from proposing marriage on Instagram Live.

user31:

Y/N is going to have a nervous breakdown at this rate. Max, CHILL.

user32:

Charles is gonna have a full-on crisis meeting about Max’s public simping. 😂

user33:

Max flirting with Y/N like he’s auditioning for a rom-com. WHAT IS HAPPENING.

user34:

Y/N trying to roast Max while he keeps throwing out flirty comments is actually hilarious. I hope she survives this.

user35:

Max went from “just friends” to dropping Shakespearean lines in under 24 hours. ICONIC.

DMs between Max and Y/N:

y/n_leclerc:

Max.

maxverstappen1:

Yes, Y/N? 😏

y/n_leclerc:

We need to talk. Immediately.

maxverstappen1:

Am I in trouble? Because I can explain everything. 😇

y/n_leclerc:

MAX, WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU? The flirting in the comments?? I literally had to restrict my brothers from my posts to stop them from finding and KILLING YOU. 😩

maxverstappen1:

You restricted them?! 😅

y/n_leclerc:

YES. Because you’re out here leaving cheesy flirty comments like we’re on Love Island or something! And the public thinks we’re secretly dating. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MAX. You’ve been openly flirting with me in front of CHARLES. On Instagram. IN FRONT OF THE WORLD. They’re going crazy.

maxverstappen1:

Oh, right. I forgot about the brothers. Oops. 😅

y/n_leclerc:

Forgot about the brothers?? You’re practically signing up for your own funeral. 😩

maxverstappen1:

Come on, Y/N, it’s not that bad. 😏

y/n_leclerc:

...Max. I’ve got people DMing me, my brothers are two steps away from driving to your house, and the internet is convinced we’re dating. You're taking the jokes way too far, and I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it needs to stop.

maxverstappen1:

...I wasn’t joking.

y/n_leclerc:

Excuse me?

maxverstappen1:

I’m not joking. About the flirting.

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT JOKING?! 😳

maxverstappen1:

I like you.

y/n_leclerc:

...Like, “like me” like me?

maxverstappen1:

Yes. 🙃

y/n_leclerc:

No. This is a prank. You’re pranking me. Where’s the camera? WHERE IS IT? 😵

maxverstappen1:

It’s not a prank, Y/N. I’ve liked you for a while.

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. You can’t just drop a BOMB like this in my DMs. What the hell do you mean “for a while”?!

maxverstappen1:

Years. 😅

y/n_leclerc:

YEARS?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YEARS?! 😱

maxverstappen1:

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin our thing. You know, the teasing, the banter. But when I saw that elevator post, I thought you had a boyfriend. It freaked me out. I realized I had to say something.

y/n_leclerc:

Oh my god, this is so much worse than I thought. 😵‍💫

maxverstappen1:

I didn’t want to mess things up, but I can’t keep pretending. I care about you, Y/N. More than just friends. I had to shoot my shot.

y/n_leclerc:

...You saw one blurry elevator pic and had a full-on emotional breakdown?

maxverstappen1:

Pretty much, yeah.

y/n_leclerc:

Max, this isn’t real life. This is some Netflix rom-com level nonsense, and I’m... confused.

maxverstappen1:

I know it’s sudden. But I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t want to lose you and watch you love someone that wasn’t me

y/n_leclerc:

...oh.

come over

maxverstappen1:

what? 

y/n_leclerc:

come over to my place so that I can kiss you dumbass cuz believe it or not but I kinda like you too

maxverstappen1:

OH 

gimme 5.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head his nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna

[theonottsbxtch]

English Love Affair | LN4

an: bouncing out to 5sos rn so this is so happening also thank you for 300 followers!!

fc: hayley williams and pinterest

requests: open

oscarpiastri

liked by ynpiastri, landonorris, lilyzneimer and 927,726 others

got to see little sis live again, @/bandname on tour starting september!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: my fav aussie band

usertwo: we love a supportive brother

userthree: oscar only has one facial expression

landonorris: i’m in love

oscarpiastri: how about no

ynpiastri: it was lovely meeting you!

landonorris: 🥰🥰

userfour: help lando is in his lovergirl era

userfive: see you in london!

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbandname and 373,936 others

london are we ready!!!!!

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userone: YESSSSSS

usertwo: she’s so pretty

nicolepiastri: i raised two very diffrent children

oscarpiastri: she’s definitely dad’s daughter

chrispiastri: ☺️👍

ynpiastri: love you both

userthree: piastri family reunion

userfour: yn supremacy 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

landonorris: see you in london 😉

oscarpiastri: you wish

ynpiastri’s story

[caption: where’s my hot rockstar bf]

story replies:

oscarpiastri: thank god non existent

ynpiastri: let me feel love

oscarpiastri: no

landonorris: im no rockstar but i’m a pretty good driver

ynpiastri: i’ll think about it

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 827,372 others

london you were a dream

*tap to load comments*

userone: IT WAS SO GOOD

usertwo: yourbandname supremacy

landonorris: no you were

oscarpiastri: get out of my little sister’s comment section

landonorris: "how about no"

ynpiastri: you came?

userthree: LANDO SAY “YOU CALLED” RN

landonorris: couldn’t miss a gig in my home country now?

ynpiastri: ☺️

oscarpiastri: i don’t like this

userthree: i ship already

userfour: isn’t she dating her bassist?

userfive: not everyone dates their bassist

lie detector test with oscar piastri and lando norris

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, yourbandname and 948,826 others

second leg of tour soon - who likes the new badge and shirt my 'friend' got me 🤭

*tap to load more comments*

userone: she’s so real for that

usertwo: i was there!!

userthree: she’s amazing

oscarpiastri: do i have to remind both you and your friend that our parents are on this app?

nicolepiastri: too late osc, too late.

userfour: i love their family

userfive: never change yn

landonorris: facts

usersix: WHAT

userseven: LANDO

oscarpiastri: i just threw up my breakfast

ynpiastri: 😉

usereight: lanyn is happening before our very eyes

usernine: i bet you that 'freind' was lando

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 963,234 others

seven thousand miles away...

*tap to load more comments*

userone: aesthetic queen

usertwo: getting in touch with nature after that last lando commenrs

userthree: WHAT IS THAT SECOND PHOTO?!

ynpiastri: new album cover! 😇

userfour: who IS IT!

carlossainz55: oh i know those abs

userfive: arianna what are you doing here

usersix: we just got confirmation of carlando and lanyn in one day.

oscarpiastri: please stay in aus and never come back to england

ynpiastri: "how about no"

twitter

ynpiastri

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbandname and 958,356

my english love affair - stream now available on all platforms!!

*tap to load comments*

userone: they broke the internet with this one

usertwo: THE WAY SHE ANNOUNCING THAT THEY FUCKED HELP

nicolepiastri: thank you for letting me know you had a boyfriend through social media daughter

ynpiastri: no worries mumma

landonorris: i apologise mrs piastri

userthree: her and oscar are polar opposites and i love it

userfour: oh i know they be having the best *** of their life.

landonorris: hot 😩

oscarpiastri: someone hand me a gun

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ nxdes? (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : “have you seen my boyfriend ?” “HAVE YOU SEEN HER !?”

tw : fluff, very suggestive

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy how I feel when I feed you all thirsty socks 🧦

view comments

user1 idk what is killing me- the caption or the photos 🗿

user2 English or Spanish ?

user3 f1mommy 💀🦅

user4 charles, don’t be shy, drop it on me

user5 I want to ride carlos like he rides his bike-

user6 did she just call us socks !?

charlesleclerc can you stop leaking pictures ? I won’t hesitate to sue you

user7 oops-

user8 LORD PERCEVAL GOT SERIOUS THERE

f1mommy @ charlesleclerc you weren’t complaining when you sent me your nudes 💋

user9 AND I-

user10 is it true or -

user11 mommy, can we get the charles junior baby pics ?

user12 that’s quite a way to frame it 💀

user13 she casually dropped christian in between

f1mommy @ user13 you would need some Jesus after god hears your thoughts

user14 istg this girl has been taking sarcasm classes

f1mommy @ user14 rizzing your mama up classes

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy this is a Charles leclerc fan page ( minus the nudes)

view comments

user1 SHIRTLESS CHARLES !?

user2 IN HD!?

user3 I WILL BE YOUR SUGGA MOMMA F1MOMMY

f1mommy hit me up bbugurl 💋

user4 yes, you all are correct, he was talking to me in second pic

user5 serving your delusion ofc

f1mommy she serving looks atleast user4 @ f1mommy ily 😭

user5 who is she ?

user6 we don’t know, we just enjoy what mommy gives us 😮‍💨

user7 how does she get them ?

user8 she hacked their phones ?

user9 techie alert

f1mommy the only tech thing I know is incognito at night 💪🏻

user10 digital footprint ?

f1mommy you would like mine on you though ?

charlesleclerc can you stop leaking my pictures ?

f1mommy can you stop fucking me ?

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy me watching y’all burn your brains to guess who is me

view comments

user1 if this accounts turns out to be run by a 50 year old lady-

f1mommy you will ask me to fuck you ?

user2 just tell us who you are

user3 she has a things for dilf

f1mommy I am one myself -

user4 I will pay you 69 cents to reveal yourself

f1mommy I would prefer performing 69 💋

user5 dududuu HELL WHA-

user6 I have given up-

user7 the iconic toto

user8 Only king toto can help us

user9 I can feel the user smirking reading all the comments

user10 the person is definitely a sadist

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy Hi, I am yours and his mommy 🫶🏻 @ charlesleclerc

view comments

user1 WHAT ?

user2 YOU ARE CHARLE’S GIRLFRIEND !?

f1mommy yes baby girl ☺️

user3 please tell me that this is a joke

charlesleclerc now can you send me some ?

charlesleclerc after you have exposed that I am your boyfriend ?

f1mommy you have the keys, come watch it in 4D

user4 so now y’all decide to be freaky ?

user5 now Charles interacting on a fan account makes sense

user6 the pictures too

user7 so she really didn’t hack-

user8 welcome to the fam sis

f1mommy I was there way before you love 🧡

[mv1simp]

prompt: max finding out one of the driver's "innocent" sister actually has a secret diary/account dedicated to all her naughty desires for him

Sweet Like Candy ♥️

Max Verstappen x Camgirl!Reader

sugar coated, lies unfolded, you still lick the wrapper. its addictive, you know this (but you still lick the wrapper)

At 27, three time world champion Max Verstappen has become bored with the blinding glamour and fake crowds who try to cling onto his fame. So when you catch his interest, sparking desire for the first time in months, he quickly becomes obsessed. He just never imagined his favourite camgirl would turn out to be his ex teammate’s shy, little sister who needed to pay off her college loans.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, camgirl!reader, Riccardio!reader, basically sugar daddy! max vibes lolz, somnophilia, blackmail, filming, cheating, 3.8k WC

Max Verstappen knew he was famous - everyone wanted a piece of the most desired driver in the richest sport on earth. When he'd been younger, high off the rush of being crowned a world champion, he’d been cockier about it, too. He enjoyed the smug arrogance that came with his skill, with his million figure paycheck, knowing that most men he met wanted to be him and most girls wanted to be with him. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he looked the way he did, all 6 foot of thick, built muscle and angled jawline with intense blue eyes. He’s had more than his fair share of rolling around in the sheets (and private jets and yachts and backseats of luxury Aston Martins - you get the picture) with countless models and actresses.

Now, at 27, he’d mellowed out, being quietly assured in his confidence and dominating aura. His talent and insane track record does all the talking for him without him needing to say a word when he steps into any room. And he’d stopped his playboy ways too, now the very picture of a loyal family man with his long term model girlfriend and her child who he doted on. It was true that he didn't hold any romantic feelings for her or love her particularly - but that was rare these days, anyways, with the superficial women who constantly surrounded him. But he knew he had her loyalty and in turn, she was provided for with access to Max's fame and finances.

Sure, he’s still offered temptations of money, drugs, alcohol, and sex on the daily, with tens of thousands of people desperate to offer him something to get a taste of the famous Max Verstappen. But unlike his younger self, his self control these days was much better. He rarely found something new that he hadn’t already tried and gotten bored of in his glamorous life as a F1 driver. He’d already started planning his retirement after his Redbull contract ended, somewhere on a remote island far away from all the greedy swarms eager to sink their claws into him.

So one day when one of his mates sent him a link, and your OnlyFans page pops up as he hovered over it, Max just rolled his eyes. His friend had texted that he had to check this chick out, she was so fucking sexy. Max had almost ignored it, already being used to countless offers from insta models DMing him on the daily. But maybe he’d been extra bored that day, because somehow he ends up clicking onto your page. And everyday, he thanks whatever fucked up God was watching from above that he did. Because what he saw next quickly became the world champion’s secret obsession.

You’re a cute young 20something, the very vision of a pure angel who lusted for dirtier fantasies she was too shy to ask for in real life. Your OnlyFans feed was filled with horny thoughts about wanting to get fucked by your older brother’s hot friend or which sexy songs you liked to listen to as you breathlessly use your pink bullet vibrator. It's a new page, started only a month ago, but you already have a few thousand followers, all drooling over the innocent yet tempting pictures you post. Nothing too raunchy - but more suggestive, in tight pastel crop tops with your nipples poking through or a shot of your curvy ass in a white lace panties. Probably a college kid, Max guessed, from the fact that the corner of a textbook could sometimes be seen in your photos and that you offered more naughtier photos to those viewers who payed a little extra. Clearly not any sort of adult film actress - and Max would know, because he’d definitely had some fun with one (or two) before.

But the real cherry on top was when he scrolled across a recent video stream you’d posted. Playing it out loud in his empty penthouse, his cock immediately hardened at the sight of your petite, curvy figure dressed up in lacy lingerie. You sat on your fluffy bed, surrounded by pink fluffy cushions and throw blankets, your face hidden from your teasing smile up. Your glossy, pouting lips giggle easily as you sway your hips in the cute lace babydoll you’re wearing, excitedly chattering about some pop singer you liked or the other. You're answering prying questions viewers are asking, reading them out loud from the chat. Did you have a boyfriend, what's your ideal type of man?

Max likes the soft, playful sound of your girly voice. His mind dirtily wonders what you'd sound like moaning underneath his much larger form. You hmmm for a second, pouting cutely, before shyly admitting that there was just one guy you’d had a crush on for ages, but he had no idea you existed. A friend of your brother's, in fact, you guys probably know him, you mused. He’s pretty famous! Comments flood the chat, trying to guess if he was a singer or actor or-

Nope, he’s an athlete! You giggle, biting your glossy lip and playing with your hard nipples. Max can’t resist palming his own cock through his sweats as he hungrily enjoys the sight of your pretty brown areolas through the see-through lace. He-mmmh-he’s Dutch, you begin, suppressing cute gasps as you toy with your oversensitive, perky tits. So tall, too, and super strong, I love seeing him shirtless! I’ll give you guys one more clue…he’s the fastest man alive when you put him in a racecar.

Ice blue eyes narrow as the comments finally hone in on just who you were talking about. So this is why his friend had sent him this, huh? He couldn’t deny he wasn’t pleased with the way you giggle cutely and confirm that your big fat crush was on Max Verstappen. I know it’s wrong, you whine, breathless as your small, manicured fingers slip down your body to play with the edge of your panties. It’s so naughty, he doesn’t know me and even has a pretty girlfriend, but every night I dream about him fucking me. He’s so hot, so dreamy, and that Dutch accent of his - you cut yourself off with a pleasurable moan, now teasing the audience as you finger yourself through your dripping panties, not letting anyone get a full view of your innocence. Let’s just say I’d let him use me anytime, anywhere, however he wants, you laugh sweetly, your voice a contrast to your dirty words.

Oh, fuck. Talk about a vixen. He hadn't seen a treasure as rare as you in a long time. And it looked like many, many viewers enjoyed your particular brand of angelic sinfulness as multiple donations flood in, begging you to finally take your panties off on the main stream. Max can't stop himself from sending a generous one himself, after jacking off to completion at the sweet sounds of you cumming through your panties. You'd eagerly humped one of your pink cushions, tits bouncing through the practically see through lingerie, moaning Max’s name as if he was right there under you when you reached your peak. Oops, sorry guys! You giggle again, your sweet voice now bashful. Got too caught up, next time I’ll make sure to say the name of the highest donor, mmkay?

It's a good OnlyFans account - no, a great one, but Max didn’t think of it much afterwards, getting caught up in his own busy life and making sure to erase his search history in case his overly paranoid girlfriend came snooping. The fact that you'd mentioned he was friends with your brother also meant very little, given his very large circle of friends and acquaintances given his fame. Everyone liked to say they were mates with Max Verstappen, F1 champion, even if the extent of friendship had been a single handshake.

To his surprise though, a few days later he received a private DM from you, sweetly thanking him for his generous donation! Curious, he opens your message, knowing you wouldn't know who he was from his generic username of CatDaddy33. He hadn't thought he had sent you much at all, maybe a couple grand? You deserved it, working so hard to dress up cutely and pay off whatever college loans you probably had.

But apparently you thought it was a very lavish contribution, because you’d sent him a very tempting photo as a thank you gift. He’d almost dropped his phone when he sees your lush bare tits, out on display as you stuck your pink tongue out cheekily, the rest of your face still hidden. Just for you. Hope you enjoy! you captioned, one small hand cupping your breasts and squeezing a pretty nipple that practically had Max salivating to sink his teeth into. Oh, he certainly enjoyed it, saving it to his private collection to jack off too later when his uptight girlfriend wasn’t in the mood - which was usually the case the majority of the month.

He ends up logging back onto your page that night to enjoy your latest steam, then another, and soon enough he had a full blown infatuation with you. Your tempting, curvy figure and your pretty lips that you bite as you keep talking about how turned on Maxie had made you in the qualifying today, looking so muscly and angry! has him downloading your naughty nudes to his phone. It’d been a long time since a girl had gotten him get so turned on, after all. You drove him wild with your girly, innocent mannerisms paired with your sexy body and filthy words as you play with yourself, always making sure to never fully reveal your face or naked cunny to the viewers with a slutty outfit covering you.

Of course, he generously tips each time he visits your page, resulting in you frequently sending him more thank you presents each time. Lately you've been asking him if he wants you to wear a certain outfit or call out his name in your next video, but he texts back that he just enjoyed watching you have fun, sweetheart. And that's true - because that's all this can be, just a private guilty pleasure for him to enjoy behind closed doors. The rest of the world wouldn't respond well to his dedicated, family man image if they knew that the Dutch champion secretly liked his girls sweet and begging for his attention on adult websites. Even though his actual relationship had become more of a PR facade, now, and had been that way for well over six months. The last chemistry fizzled out when she’d tried to wake Max up with her mouth on his morning wood, somehow trying to make up for weeks of no sex. He made up some excuse about being stressed for the race as he rapidly softened despite her repeat attempts, pushing her off him and going to shower.

But as soon as he’s under the warm steam, he’d only had to close his eyes and picture your perfect, full pouting lips on his cock instead for his impressive semi to come rushing back. As he lazily strokes himself, he wonders what your eyes looked like, still having never seen them with how you kept the top half of your face off the frame. Would you look up at him sultrily as your pink tongue darted out and licked his slit, or did you prefer having him meanly shove his cock all the way in as you gagged with wide, teary doe eyes? He guessed the second fantasy would be your pick, judging by how your breath seemed to hitch in excitement whenever a commanding order was DMed to you following a donation. The submissive type, for sure, who’d once said she’d eagerly let Max Verstappen have his way with her wherever, however he wanted her-

He came with a muffled groan, panting heavily as his release drips down to be cleaned away by the hot water. Maybe he’d finally give into your pleas to him to request something and ask you to suck a sweet lollipop for him on your next stream.

He puts his distracting thoughts about you to the back of his mind as he arrives on the paddock, camera flashes going crazy as they note the increased distance between the Redbull driver and his unhappy girlfriend as she trails behind him. Frankly, Max had stopped caring what his public image was at this point in the season, knowing it was only a matter of time before he got his PR manager involved to cook up some mutual breakup story to feed the media.

Qualifying goes well and the race even better for once, despite the shit box his car had been this season. Afterwards, he greets Daniel, who greets him excitedly and commends his race efforts. The two drivers are laughing, catching up easily in their conversation - when a small figure turns the corner to come up next to Daniel’s side. Oh! The Australian man grins, gently tugging the shy figure by his side forward. You remember my little sis, right Max?

The Dutchman stared at your blushing face as you nervously avoid eye contact with the much taller blonde. Cute, he thinks briefly, finding your brown doe eyes and Riccardio curls pretty. Sure, I remember her, we met at the Silverstone race last year, right? It had been a brief meeting, Daniel swinging by the Redbull garage to congratulate Max and you’d been trailing behind him. Max vaguely remembered you from your younger days, when you’d shyly stayed out of the older boys' way when he had visited Daniel in his Perth family home in Australia. But you’d grown up now, and had chosen to attend college overseas in London, and Max politely asks if you were still studying there. On a full ride scholarship too, Daniel confirms proudly, fondly ruffling your curls and making you protest. Still won’t accept a dime from her older brother, even with the ridiculous London rent.

Pouting rather adorably, you quickly fix your hair, glaring at your sibling as you mutter that you didn’t want his tax evasion money, thanks, you could look after yourself. Max laughs, pleasantly surprised you had some teeth behind your blushing, pretty face. You immediately look up to see his gorgeous blue eyes looking at you in interest before nervously flicking them away again, clutching onto Daniel’s hoodie as the two men resume their conversation. Later, as he watches you walk away, Max can’t help thinking about how your girly voice and pouting lips had looked so familiar. He knows many beautiful women, but there was something about your unique, natural face that made attraction swirl in his chest. He’s still thinking about it that night, annoyed about not knowing where else he’s seen you besides at your brother’s side.

And then your latest video had him sitting up straight in shock. Because he recognises the hoodie that’s draped across the back of your chair in the corner of the screen. He'd recognise it anywhere. You, of course, probably had not thought twice about the item of clothing that belonged to your brother - with it just looking like another piece of F1 merchandise to anyone watching. But Max knew that Redbull insignia on the back, signed DR3 along the logo generically but with an extra little present that Max had drawn on himself when his teammate had fallen asleep next to him on a private plane ride. The crude, cartoon dick drawing stares back at Max through the screen as he immediately recognises what he’d found funny as an 18 year old. There was only one person in the world who would own this sweatshirt personally customized by the world champion - and given the fact that you were the one who seemed to have borrowed it….the mystery of your identity finally unravels.

He sends you a private DM that very night, not wanting to play any games. He knew he had to have you, now that he knows you’re right under his nose. I know who’s little sister you are, baby.

You respond back immediately, which isn’t suprising considering how you’re in the same time zone currently. I have no idea what you’re talking about, you text, trying to deny his claim. Max smirks. He almost feels mean for winding you up but he knows you’ll be so grateful for it in the end. You’re telling me you aren’t Daniel Riccardio’s little sister? I saw you on the paddock today. No point in hiding anymore.

You seen his message for a few tense minutes, and he wonders if he approached this wrong because you could just block him. But then you frantically send back a how the hell do you know that? How did you find out?

Max chuckles as he corners you right where he wants. And an hour later you’re on a private video call with him, very differently dressed that your usual skimpy attire in a baggy t-shirt that covers all your skin as you demand to know just what he wanted. Of course, you still have no idea who he is, because even though he has his camera on, his face is well out of view. You can only squint at the image of a fit appearing guy, dressed casually in sweats but his strong muscles still showing through. You impatiently read out the next DM he sends you. I want to see your pussy, spread open for me completely-What the hell?! you shriek, outraged.

You try to get out of it, saying that was too embarrassing to do, but he makes you realise there it was futile to resist. He orders you to show your face in the video, saying there’s no point hiding it anymore since he knew exactly who you were. All over DM, of course - he couldn’t have your recognising his deep, Dutch voice that you always gushed about.

You pout cutely, lips downturned and an upset expression on your face as you slowly undress yourself for him. Then you follow his orders, gently playing with yourself as you teasingly suckle on your pink vibrator so that he could imagine what you’d look like with your lips around him, instead. Max lazily jerks himself off to the sight, enjoying how you started obediently following his instructions once you saw his hand reach into his sweats and slide his erection out. Your doe eyes went wide with guilty desire at the sight of his impressive, hard length, and you swallow back drool when you see his leaking, angry tip. Soon he had you spreading your puffy cunny lips wide for him to greedily look at, before you start sliding your little vibrator in between your achy core. He makes you call out his name like you always did, of course, and say out loud all of the dirty fantasies you’d been dreaming about lately involving your brother’s best friend. You cum intensely and Max follows shortly after, the both of you caught up in the sinful activity.

It’d been easy enough to find out the room number you’d been staying at as the Riccardio siblings were at the same hotel as him, and even easier to get the swipe card. He was Max Verstappen, after all. Leaving his bitchy girlfriend alone in his room, he makes his way to yours in the middle of the night. The hallway light briefly illuminates your peacefully sleeping figure when he opens the door, quietly locking it behind him.

You’re deep asleep, plush tits rising and falling, dressed in a cute see through lace nightgown and matching panties. After admiring the sight for a few minutes, he slides into bed behind you, finally getting to toy with those pretty nipples and squeeze the plush ass he’d been fantasising about for weeks on end. You quietly moan in your unconscious state, sleepily grinding back against the warm, hard body holding you and arching your back into the hungry mouth suckling on your stiff nipples. Soon he’s wedges his fat cock in between your thick thighs, panting heavily as he fucks then slowly so you don’t wake up. He barely lasts a couple minutes, his head dizzy with pleasure for the first time in months as blood rushes to his already hard cock. After he’s cum copiously all over your tanned skin, he slides off your panties to take for himself, making sure to rub his creamy release along your puffy slit with his large hands. He can’t resist sliding a finger inside to get feel of how luxuriously tight your pussy feels, groaning when he feels your walls clench down on him. His cock was going to experience heaven when it finally got to sink home inside you, he was sure.

You spend your day confused the next morning, remembering hazy wet dreams from the night before but not quite being able to recall exact what you’d dreamt. And you’d never been able to find your favourite lace panties, assuming they got lost in the laundry when room service cleaned up. Until your online bully, as you’d taken to calling him, sends you a naughty photo. It’s one that he could only have had access to if he’d taken it himself, you realize with a shocked gasp, as you stare at your peacefully sleeping figure. A gigantic cock, much bigger than any of your cute toys, slides into the waistband of your pink panties - which are completely see through from how soaked they’ve become. And that was one of the tamer pictures Max took that night. He wonders how you’d react to the one he has of his drooling tip brushing against your parted lips, his sticky release from earlier now leaking into your wet mouth.

You’re even cuter when you’re not putting up a fight his message says. You freak out, of course, but he doesn’t respond to your frantic questions and instead orders you to be dressed up for him tonight in that navy lace babydoll and matching blindfold set he’s having delivered, okay?

You swallow, unable to hide the rising curiosity and desire at the rich, mysterious stranger you had drawn in. You can’t really be mad at him when he sends a $10k reward to your account after teasing you with the filthy photos he’d been taking. A girl had to pay off her college loans, after all.

Besides, a hot, muscled sugar daddy appealed to you a lot more than streaming for thousands of strangers. You couldn’t wait to meet him tonight!

—————————————————————————

A/N: 😏😏😏 thank you so much for waiting patiently my dearest readers, work has been crazy but I finally have some time now to feed you!!! Get ready I’m about to be dropping some hot pieces for you including part 2 of earned it and haunted!!