#f1 x original character

[angsthology]

☾ intro to jupiter nightshade (ft. the commentary by yours truly)

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Jupiter Nightshade.

How do you even begin to describe her?

Jupiter was everyone’s dreams and everyone’s nightmare.

You love Jupiter, you hate her, you admire her, you’re terrified of her, you want to be her, you want to be with her.

Some people even say that she’s a real daughter of the sky — others even dared say she is the God Jupiter of the sky.

But those were just rumors, probably.

Hard not to believe those when the woman looked like she belongs in a museum of fine art. Models envy her, they kiss the ground she walks on and thank whatever higher power that she decided to join the world of motorsports. She would render them all jobless if modelling was her actual career rather than it being an occasional obligation.

The gods really took their time with her. Dark, jet-black hair cascades down her back — she never really keeps it long, she had to wear layers a lot and she was not a fan of the itch and heat restrictions it gave her so she always opted for a short messy haircut. Her skin glowed olive, under the sun, it often looked like she was made of part-gold. But, oh, dio mio!—as she would say—her eyes, her eyes; they’re the magnet to all that is deserving, they’re blessed to those lucky enough to have been even looked upon with those eyes. Both a piercing shade of emerald green—only, here’s the twist, the drop of uniqueness to it; her left eye was split into two between the striking green and a soft brown.

Call it dramatic but what I say doesn’t stray far from the truth.

That was her looks. I can’t even begin to describe the talent, the spirit she possesses.

“THAT’S P1, KID! P1 ON YOUR FIRST RACE!” her engineer yelled in her radio, his words coming out of his mouth along with breaths of disbelief.

The racer hadn’t even heard a word he said, she was far too busy taking in the glory of the shock coming from the stands. There were occasional boos of course, but of course that doesn’t begin to beat the cheers coming for her. The rookie.

She was on a high, one she has never felt before. Not even when she was named F2 champion or any other race she’s won before. Formula One was a new kind of glory for her and boy she was already hungry for more.

That hunger? Never went away for the rest of her rookie season. Jupiter Nightshade was a mad woman and that made everyone (all the good ones anyway) fall in love with her.

God, she could never be full of the glory. Every moment she managed to get more it only makes her even hungrier for more.

“JUPITER NIGHTSHADE YOU ARE A GOD!” the energetic yells of her team principal boomed through her radio, almost making her flinch.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” she said smugly.

Ugh, what a smug little shit.

I still think she’s cool or whatever.

Think what you want to think about Jupiter Nightshade but everyone can always agree that she’s full of surprises.

Really, she didn’t know where it came from. One second she was kissing her winning trophy while perched up on the second and third driver’s shoulders, the next; champagne was everywhere and she was in the air — mouthful of champagne, (she’s young, she’s free, and most importantly, she was a winner. She thought.) she sprayed the liquid that was already in her mouth to the P2 holder, completely surprising them—not that they’re mad or anything about it, they were just taken by surprise by it and let it happen. Then she turned to the lucky three with a smirk on her face; the man was quick to try and duck away but she was faster than that (on-track, off-track, there isn’t much difference between her), spraying right into his face.

And, really, that was how it started.

It was… an interesting, but hot nonetheless—according to the Twitter sapphics anyway. (They’re right.)

But being one of the greatest always came with its negatives — worse when you’re a woman.

She was the world champion.

She was a rookie driver in a Renault with a world champion.

And yet… they are boo-ing her.

On the internet, anyway.

Which makes it even better. If they’re not brave enough (or, rich enough to even attend a Grand Prix) to say it to her face, what real value do their words even have?

But for now, she can only accept her first domination under the building lightning storm in the sky.

And hence, born was her first nickname—and I’m not talking about the world driver’s champion—no; from then on, the daughter of the sky was born.

What a scam! — 2019 spat out, Jupiter was called the rookie with immense beginners luck.

Cunt. She thought.

The media that once ridiculed her then acted as if they never doubted her a day in their life was once again turning their back on them.

Typical, she thought. Fame-hungry-worthless-losers with no sense of wording in their body whatsoever.

When asked about it, her answer was simple; the only answer she had given to the world that retched year:

“The car is finally realizing who’s driving it and just couldn’t keep up.”

Renault was angry.

How. Dare. She.

They gave her an F1 car for the first time in her career, they catered her to a championship in it, and this is how she repays them?

At that, she rolls her eyes, “What, like I’m wrong?”

You make a car that accommodates a champion’s needs, you get a champion.

Nightshade is not for the weak.

So when she made her move to Red Bull in 2020 many was not surprised — ‘it’s been a long time coming.’ (I know right, why didn’t she do it sooner?) — ‘of course, she did.’ (the fuck you mean by that?) — ‘oh, great, more overconfident Red Bull drivers, just what we need.’ (damn, right it’s what we need.) — and my personal favorite: ‘was she not already in Red Bull?’ (oh they wished they had hired her sooner.)

By the time her third WDC came around, people have already treated her like an evil dictator taking over Formula One.

The internet (and, Netflix too probably) have successfully painted over her spirit turning her into this soul-sucking, dream-stealing, non-caring of others’ well-being person.

Everyone was suddenly far too busy looking for her faults; everyone.

Did they care that she’s a woman dominating in a male-dominated sport? Not anymore (they miss having their favorite white man win.)

Did they even bother caring about who she was doing this for? (No, why should they? She’s not of any relevance.)

Did they even bother opening their eyes to the fact that Jupiter Nightshade is a good person.

To look past her brash personality, interesting habits, and behavior and just see her for what she stands for, to what she is proving; that how the media—the world treats her gender unfairly when the opposite can do the exact same thing (hell, sometimes even worse) and not be bashed as much as she was getting.

They can say what they want about her but she’ll be the one hearing “You are the world champion!” in her ears at the end of the season.

not proofread | taglist; @disneyprincemuke (no one was surprised) + ask to be added 🥳

[mrsfancyferrari]

I'm All Yours

Summary: You and Lando have been in the talking stage for some months now. After Lando's third win, he knows he's missing something important. You being his girlfriend.

Song: Thinking Bout You by Frank Ocean

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 5.8k

You and Lando had been navigating the delicate waters of the talking stage for several months, sharing countless late-night conversations and laughter that echoed through the quiet of your respective rooms.

Each message exchanged felt like a step closer, yet there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air, a sense that something significant was just out of reach.

Lando's impressive third win filled him with an exhilarating sense of triumph. As he stood on the podium, basking in the cheers and flashing cameras, he could almost taste the sweet taste of success.

However, amidst the euphoria, a realization washed over him, an emptiness that he couldn't ignore.

It was you, being his girlfriend, who was missing from the celebration, and the thought gnawed at him.

The absence of your presence cast a shadow over the victory that was otherwise so overwhelming. Lando couldn't help but feel incomplete, knowing that you were the one he wanted to share this milestone with.

The exhilaration of the win was dulled by the ache of knowing that you were missing out on the shared joy and celebration.

Without you by his side, Lando's victory felt hollow and incomplete. He had poured his heart and soul into achieving this milestone, knowing that your support meant the world to him.

But without you there to witness it, to witness his hard work and perseverance paying off, the victory felt less meaningful.

Lando couldn't help but replay in his mind the late-night conversations and laughter he and you had shared, each memory reminiscent of a time when he felt complete and whole.

Those moments fueled his determination and pushed him to work harder, but now, as he basked in the spotlight, he couldn't help but long for the presence of the person who had meant so much to him.

Lando knew that he couldn't control whether or not you were able to attend his victories, but he couldn't help but wish for the opportunity to share this momentous occasion with you.

He longed for the day when he could celebrate with you by his side, when the cheering crowd and the flashing cameras would serve as a backdrop to a beautiful and loving partnership.

As Lando stood there on the podium, amidst the deafening cheers and applause, he couldn't help but wonder what the future held for him and for you.

He knew that he couldn't suppress his feelings any longer, and he vowed to find a way to bridge the gap between the two of you.

The tension between the talking stage and something more had always been palpable, but now, Lando realized that he couldn't move forward without addressing it head-on.

He knew that he couldn't continue to navigate these delicate waters without risking the potentiality of losing you altogether.

With a heavy heart, Lando decided to take the first step, to reach out and let you know how much you meant to him, even in the face of uncertainty. . . .

Later that evening, Lando found himself pacing in his hotel room, the trophy gleaming on the table, but his heart was heavy. He picked up his phone, hesitating for a moment before dialing your number.

When you answered, your voice was a soothing balm to his racing thoughts. "Hey, Lando! Congratulations on the win! I saw the highlights; you were incredible!" you exclaimed, your excitement evident.

He smiled, but it quickly faded as he replied, "Thanks, but it doesn’t feel complete without you here. I thought about you the whole time. I really wish you could have been there to celebrate with me."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and it made your heart flutter. "I wish I could have been there too. I was cheering for you from home, you know that!" you said, trying to lighten the mood.

Lando sighed, "I know, but it’s just not the same. I want you by my side, sharing these moments. You mean so much to me, and I think it’s time we stop just talking and start being something more."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, and you felt a rush of emotions.

"Lando, take a deep breath and sit down," you instructed, and Lando listened without hesitation. He settled onto the edge of the bed, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him.

"I need you to know that I care about you deeply too. But let's take it one step at a time, okay? We need to be honest with ourselves and each other about what we want and how we feel."

Lando nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. "You're right. I just didn't want to waste any more time pretending that what we have wasn't special. I want to build something real with you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with hope. "We'll figure this out together, Lando. No rushing, no pressure—just us, exploring what we could be."

For the first time in a long while, Lando felt a sense of calm, knowing that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

"I love how you know how to calm me down," Lando muttered, looking at your face on the screen.

His eyes softened as he took in your reassuring smile, feeling a warmth spread through him. "It's like you always know exactly what to say to make everything better."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "That's because I care about you, Lando. And I want us to be happy, whatever that looks like for us." The two of you continued to talk about the race that he just won and he taught you some of the rules of the sport.

As the night wore on, the distance between you seemed to shrink, and Lando felt more certain than ever that together, you could face anything. . . .

It was the inaugural week of the much-anticipated long break, and you had made the decision to visit Lando, a choice that filled both of you with excitement. It had been weeks since you last saw each other in person, and the anticipation of reuniting was palpable.

As you made your way to the airport, Lando was a bundle of nerves, standing in front of the mirror in his room, adjusting his collar repeatedly as if it would somehow ease his anxiety.

Charles, his ever-watchful friend, leaned against the doorframe, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed Lando's frantic preparations.

"You know, mate, you’re acting like you’re about to meet the Queen or something," Charles chuckled, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Lando shot a quick glance at Charles, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I know, but I just want everything to be perfect. I mean, she’s coming all this way, and I want to make a good impression," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and dread.

The thought of you arriving filled him with both joy and a hint of panic. He was supposed to pick you up from the airport, and the only thing he was waiting for was the message that would signal your arrival.

"It’s not like it’s the first time you’re meeting her," Charles teased, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall, clearly enjoying Lando’s discomfort.

"Yeah, but still," Lando muttered, turning to face Charles, his hands fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. "I want her to see me at my best."

Charles couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. "Honestly, mate, if she’s still talking to you after all this time, I think you’ve already made a pretty good impression."

Lando, unable to suppress a grin, playfully punched Charles on the shoulder. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m still going to be a nervous wreck until I see her."

The banter continued, but deep down, both friends knew that this reunion was going to be something special, a moment they had both been waiting for.

"Do you think there's something special brewing between you two in the future?" Charles inquired, his curiosity evident in his tone. He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he watched Lando's expression shift.

Lando's eyes sparkled with a mix of hope and uncertainty, and he took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. "Honestly, I really hope so. She's not like anyone else I've ever dated," he replied, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"She has this quiet strength about her, always listening to my problems, but she can also be so lively and chatty. And when she smiles, those dimples of hers just light up the room. I find myself wanting to see her smile all the time. It’s like she has this incredible ability to make everything feel right. And don’t even get me started on how smart she is; I often wonder why she even bothers with a guy like me."

Just as Lando was about to delve deeper into his feelings, a notification chimed from his phone, interrupting his train of thought.

He quickly reached for it, his heart racing with anticipation. The message was from you, simply stating, "I'm landing now, see you soon! <3"

A wave of excitement washed over him, and he couldn't help but grin.

"See, mate? The moment you start talking about her, all your worries just fade away," Charles said, his grin widening as he nudged Lando playfully. "You’ve got to go get her. This could be the start of something amazing."

"You're right, I should," Lando replied, his voice filled with newfound determination. He quickly grabbed his suit, the fabric crumpling slightly in his hands as he rushed to the door. "Thanks for the push, Charles. I really appreciate it."

With a final glance back at his friend, Lando felt a surge of confidence. He was ready to embrace whatever the future held with her, knowing that this moment could be the beginning of something truly special.

As he dashed out, the anticipation of seeing her again filled him with a warmth that made him forget all his insecurities.

Lando slid into the driver’s seat of his car, the engine purring to life as he navigated through the bustling streets toward the airport. The anticipation bubbled within him, a mix of excitement and nerves as he thought about seeing you again.

Once he arrived, he parked and made his way inside, where he found a cozy spot to wait. Time seemed to stretch as he glanced at the arrivals board, his heart racing at the thought of your imminent arrival. Soon enough, he spotted the familiar figures emerging from the terminal, and his breath caught in his throat when his eyes finally locked onto yours.

You looked stunning, a vision in a sleek black dress that hugged your figure perfectly, complemented by a small coat that added an air of elegance against the chilly backdrop.

As you approached, Lando couldn’t help but notice the way you seemed slightly nervous under his gaze, your suitcase rolling behind you as you made your way closer. The moment felt electric, and he found himself momentarily lost in the depths of your eyes.

“Lando? Earth to Lando?” you teased, breaking the spell that had momentarily held him captive.

He blinked, shaking off the daze, and blurted out, “You look beautiful.” The words slipped out before he could think, genuine admiration shining through.

A soft blush crept across your cheeks as you replied, “Oh, thank you, Lando. You look handsome too.”

Your smile was infectious, and he couldn’t help but mirror it, feeling warmth spread across his face as he realized just how much you affected him.

After a few moments of shared smiles and lingering glances, Lando finally broke the silence. “Let me take your bag,” he offered, his voice steady despite the fluttering in his chest.

He reached for your suitcase, gently taking it from your hand and replacing it with his own, their fingers intertwining in a sweet gesture that felt both natural and exhilarating.

“I’ve missed you,” he admitted, his eyes searching yours for a hint of how you felt. “I missed you too,” you replied, your voice soft yet filled with sincerity.

"Congratulations on your win," you said as the two of you left the airport, your voice carrying a mix of pride and excitement.

Lando's eyes sparkled at your words, the acknowledgment of his recent achievement making his chest swell with joy. "Thank you," he responded, his tone humble yet filled with gratitude. "Though I wish you were there to celebrate with me."

As you walked side by side, the bustling noise of the airport fading into the background, Lando couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment.

"Well, I'm here now," you said with a playful smile, "Do you have anything planned?" Lando's eyes lit up with excitement as he opened the door for you, his hand gently guiding you into the waiting car.

"Yeah, but we have to make a quick stop first," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery.

As the car sped away from the airport, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. You glanced over at Lando, who was now staring out the window, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Where are we going?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. He turned to you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"You'll see," was all he said, leaving you to wonder what surprises lay ahead.

The car soon pulled up to a familiar street, and your curiosity only grew as you recognized Lando's neighborhood. As the vehicle came to a halt in front of his house, you looked at him with a puzzled expression.

"Why are we here?" you asked, but he just smiled and opened the car door, holding out his hand to help you out.

"Trust me," he said simply, his eyes twinkling with a secret only he knew.

Your confusion slowly turned to excitement as he led you up the steps and into his home. The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by the warm, inviting ambiance of the living room.

On the coffee table sat a beautifully wrapped gift and a bouquet of your favorite flowers as well as all of your favourite books.

"I wanted to give you something special before our adventure," Lando said, his voice soft and filled with genuine affection.

"Aww, Lando, you shouldn't have," you muttered, your voice mingling with shock and gratitude as you took in the thoughtful array of gifts.

You knew how much time, effort, and money must have gone into arranging all of this, and it made your heart swell with appreciation.

Overwhelmed by the gesture, you stepped closer and placed a gentle kiss on Lando's cheek, watching as his face turned a delightful shade of red.

"Well, I wanted to make sure you knew how much you mean to me," he said, his eyes meeting yours with an earnest sincerity that made your heart flutter.

"You mean the world to me, Lando," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't believe you went through all this trouble just to make me happy."

You wrapped your arms around him in a tight embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and savoring the moment.

Lando hugged you back just as tightly, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, "I'd do anything to see you smile like this."

As you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, you could see the depth of his feelings reflected there. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect, intimate moment.

After the embrace, the air between you and Lando crackled with an unspoken tension. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and as you turned to look at him, you caught him stealing glances at your lips, a flicker of desire dancing in his eyes.

It was a moment that felt suspended in time, yet he seemed to fight against the urge to close the distance.

"We should head to the next place," he finally murmured, breaking the spell as he moved toward the door, his voice low and slightly hesitant.

You followed him, a soft smile playing on your lips, but inside, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled. Lando was always so considerate, so respectful, and while you appreciated that about him, there were times when you wished he would take a leap of faith.

The two of you had danced around this moment for far too long, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.

"You know," you said, catching up to him as he paused at the door, "sometimes I think you’re too careful. What’s stopping you from just going for it?"

Your heart raced as you spoke, hoping to provoke a reaction.

He turned to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and contemplation. "I guess I just don’t want to ruin what we have," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that always made your heart flutter. "But I can’t help but wonder if we’re missing out on something amazing."

You could see the conflict in his eyes, and it made you want to reach out and pull him closer.

"Whatever your option is, I'll always stand with you," you assured him, your voice soft but firm. The sincerity in your words seemed to ease some of the tension in his shoulders.

"Come on, don't you have a secret place to show me?" you added, a playful glint in your eye as you tried to lighten the mood.

Lando's face broke into a relieved smile, the weight of the moment lifting. "Yeah, I do," he said, his tone more relaxed as he opened the door for you.

As you both stepped out into the cool evening air, the unspoken promise of exploring that hidden place together filled you with a renewed sense of excitement. The night was still young, and with Lando by your side, you couldn't wait to see what adventures awaited.

Lando drove through winding roads until they reached a secluded, picturesque area. The headlights illuminated a candle-lit table set with an array of delicious food, and in the background, a luxurious yacht waited by the water's edge.

The sight took your breath away, and you turned to Lando with wide eyes, unable to hide your amazement. "How did you even manage this?" you asked, your voice filled with awe.

He merely grinned, a hint of mischief playing on his lips. "I have my ways," he replied, stepping out of the car and moving to your side to open your door.

As you walked together towards the beautifully set table, the ambiance of the evening wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The flickering candlelight cast a soft glow, making the moment feel even more intimate.

He gently pulled out your chair, guiding you to sit down with a grace that made your heart swell even more. As he took his seat across from you, the candlelight reflected in his eyes, creating a mesmerizing sparkle that you couldn’t look away from.

The aroma of the food wafted up, mingling with the crisp evening air, creating an atmosphere that was nothing short of magical.

Lando poured you a glass of wine, his movements deliberate and smooth, as if he had planned every detail to perfection. "To us," he toasted, raising his glass with a smile that spoke volumes.

You clinked glasses, feeling the warmth of the wine and the moment seep into your soul. The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter, shared dreams, and the kind of deep connection that made you forget about everything else.

As you both reached for the first bite, the flavors exploded in your mouth, a symphony of tastes that perfectly complemented the enchanting setting. The dishes ranged from succulent grilled vegetables to tender cuts of meat, each prepared with exquisite care.

Lando watched your reaction with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased that his efforts were being appreciated. You savored every morsel, the delicious food enhancing the magic of the evening even further.

Between bites, you exchanged stories and memories, each one bringing you closer together.

The food was more than just a meal; it was an experience that tied the night together in a perfect bow. The rich, creamy desserts were the final touch, a sweet ending to an unforgettable dinner.

As you finished the last bite, you couldn’t help but feel that this evening was the start of something truly special.

"So, is the yacht just for show?" you asked curiously, glancing over at the sleek vessel docked nearby. Lando's grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Ahh, I was waiting for you to ask about it," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Do you want to get on it?"

Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and extended his hand to you. With your hand in his, you walked towards the yacht, the anticipation building with each step.

The yacht was an epitome of elegance and luxury, gleaming under the moonlight. As you stepped onto the polished teak deck, you couldn't help but admire the sleek lines and sophisticated design.

The gentle hum of the engine and the subtle sway of the boat added a sense of adventure to the atmosphere. Soft ambient lighting illuminated the pathways, guiding you both towards the interior with an inviting glow.

Inside, the yacht was a marvel of modern craftsmanship. Plush seating areas were adorned with rich fabrics and tasteful decor, creating a cozy yet opulent ambiance. The main salon featured expansive windows that offered breathtaking views of the starlit sea.

A state-of-the-art kitchen and a well-stocked bar hinted at more delightful culinary experiences to come. Everywhere you looked, there were thoughtful details that spoke of Lando's impeccable taste and the promise of unforgettable moments ahead.

"Do you like it?" Lando asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his voice despite his confident demeanor. You turned to him, eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

"It's absolutely stunning, Lando. You've outdone yourself," you replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He visibly relaxed, his smile broadening as he took in your reaction.

As you continued exploring the yacht, Lando pointed out various features with pride. From the luxurious master suite to the sleek entertainment system, every detail was carefully curated to provide the ultimate experience.

You could see the passion and effort he had poured into making this yacht a floating paradise.

"I wanted this to be more than just a boat ride," he explained softly. "I wanted it to be a memory we would cherish forever."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you as you realized just how much this evening—and this moment—meant to him as well.

You also promised to yourself that you would make the first move to him tonight. With a determined yet gentle resolve, you leaned in closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Lando," you began softly, gazing into his eyes, "I want this to be a memory we both cherish forever too."

After thoroughly exploring every nook and cranny of the luxurious yacht, the two of you found yourselves drawn to the expansive deck, where the horizon was ablaze with the colors of the setting sun.

The sky transformed into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, casting a warm glow over the water.

"Isn’t this just perfect?" you remarked, leaning against the railing and taking in the breathtaking view.

Lando, with a smile that lit up his face, nodded in agreement. “I can’t think of a better way to end the day,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

With the large, plush couch inviting you to sink into its comfort, you both had ample space to stretch out. However, instead of sprawling out, you chose to sit on Lando’s lap, feeling the warmth radiating from him.

"You’re so cozy," you teased, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled softly, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your back.

"I could get used to this," he said, his voice low and playful. As you began to massage his head, your fingers weaving through his curls, you pressed soft kisses on his hair, relishing the intimacy of the moment.

"You know, I could stay here forever," you whispered, feeling the world around you fade away.

Lando looked up at you, his expression a mix of affection and mischief. “Forever is a long time, but I wouldn’t mind if it meant more sunsets like this with you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours.

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words, the connection between you deepening. “Let’s make a pact then,” you suggested, a playful grin spreading across your face. “Every sunset for this break, we find a cozy spot and just enjoy each other’s company.”

He laughed, nodding. “Deal! But only if I get to sit on your lap next time,” he countered, his playful tone making you giggle. . . .

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue across the gentle waves, you found yourself nestled comfortably in Lando's lap on the deck of his sleek yacht, the subtle sway of the boat only adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.

You could hardly remember how you had crossed the line from innocent flirting to this moment, where your lips tangled and your breaths mingled under the fading light. It felt like a long time coming, a slow build-up of longing and unspoken words that finally erupted in a passionate kiss.

Lando smirked, his famous charm practically radiating off him, and he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he teasingly whispered, “I think you and I have been waiting for this for ages." His hands began to travel across your back, fingers barely grazing your skin, igniting a fire within you that was both thrilling and comforting.

"Is this really happening?” you asked, half-mesmerized by the way his touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I mean, one moment we were only hands, and now…” you trailed off, a mix of disbelief and excitement coursing through me.

Lando chuckled softly, his hands finding a firmer grip on your waist as he pulled you closer, your bodies fitting perfectly together as if they were always meant to be this way.

“Did you only want to hold hands, though?” he questioned, a playful glint in his deep-set eyes. “I’ve always thought there was something more, something bubbling under the surface, waiting for the right moment to explode.”

His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like the gentle sea breeze, and you felt a surge of confidence at his unfiltered honesty.

You let out a breathy laugh, captivated by the moment as you brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, your heart racing in synchrony with the rhythm of the waves.

“Are you saying this was all a part of your master plan?” you teased, playfully raising an eyebrow at him.

Lando leaned back slightly, giving you that signature lopsided grin that made your heart flutter. “Master plan? More like a series of happy accidents,” he quipped. “But if I’m being honest, I wanted to kiss you the moment we first met. You were just too busy trying to keep up with the racing jokes.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, but your heart swelled at his words, realizing how much energy and chemistry had been humming between us all along.

"Well," you replied, resting your forehead against his, "I guess it's a good thing we finally figured it out.

As you settle onto Lando’s lap, a surge of exhilaration runs through you, a mix of the salty breeze from the ocean and the intoxicating smell of sunscreen layered with his cologne.

His eyes, a vivid shade of green, spark with mischief as they meet yours, and a sense of weightlessness seems to blanket the world around you. Moments later, he leans in closer, the heat radiating from his body enveloping you like a warm wave, and without a word, his lips find yours.

You can taste the slight tang of the sea on his mouth, a delicious contrast to the sweet sensation of his kiss.

The world around you fades and the gentle lapping of the water against the yacht become a distant echo; you’re completely absorbed in this captivating moment of connection.

As the kiss deepens, you feel Lando’s tongue dance playfully with yours, each movement sparking a thrilling anticipation that sends shivers down your spine.

You can’t help but pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling the sinewy strength in his shoulders. With every little touch, every brush of his lips, the air seems to vibrate with the unspoken electricity between you.

The world is no longer defined by the yacht or the party behind you; it’s merely the two of you, lost in a fleeting paradise where nothing else matters.

Suddenly, you can feel his hands roaming on your back, and you giggle softly against his lips, teasing him, “You’re not supposed to distract me like this!”

He chuckles in response, his breath warm against your skin, "But how can I resist?"

Just as the kiss begins to take on a more fervent intensity, Lando finds a delicate gap in your dress, his fingers exploring the bare skin of your waist with a confident, gentle caress. The sensation ignites a fire within you, every glide of his fingertips a tantalizing reminder of your shared connection.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and sincere, causing your heart to race.

You smile against him, feeling bold and cherished; “Only when I’m with you,” you reply, feeding the warmth that envelops the two of you.

The embrace seems to stretch into eternity, every kiss and touch intensifying the chemistry that crackles in the summer air, leaving you both intoxicated by the moment and eager for what lies ahead on this magical, sun-kissed day. . . .

Just moments earlier, you had shared a soft, lingering kiss, a tender connection that made your heart race, leaving you momentarily breathless.

"Wow, I didn’t know you were such a great kisser," you teased while gazing into his captivating blue eyes, feeling the flutter of excitement bubbling within you as laughter escaped your lips.

Lando chuckled softly, his gaze locking onto yours with a seriousness that took you aback, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

As the wind tousled your hair and the sounds of waves crashing against the yacht faded into the background, Lando looked at you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

"I’ve been thinking about this for a while," he began, his voice steady yet laced with a hint of vulnerability, "and I just can’t keep it to myself any longer. I thought of making a speech but that doesn't sound like a thing I would do so I thought I was just freestyle it. Y/N, you've made me so happy ever since I've met you, you've made me read more books, you've changed my life entirely and I'm grateful for your existence with everyday that passes by."

The playful banter dwindled, and an anticipatory silence enveloped you both as he continued. "Will you be my girlfriend and make the happiest man in the world?"

His question hung in the air, the weight of it leaving you utterly shocked, your mind racing as your heart skipped a beat. You stared at him, the world around you blurring into a hazy backdrop as those words echoed in your mind.

Was this really happening?

Your heart filled with joy and disbelief, and you found yourself momentarily lost in the depths of his ever-watchful eyes, torn between excitement and an overwhelming sense of surprise.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you finally managed to respond, the corners of your mouth curving into a smile, though your heart was still racing.

"You really know how to throw a girl off balance, don’t you?" you replied, your voice slightly teasing yet laced with genuine affection. "That's quite the unexpected question, Lando. I mean, I thought we were just having fun on this beautiful yacht, enjoying the sunset."

You felt the blush rising to your cheeks as you remembered the kiss, your heart still hammering. "But, you know," you continued, looking deep into his eyes, trying to gauge the sincerity of his proposal, "I’ve definitely been feeling something special between us."

"but yes, of course I will be your girlfriend. I've been waiting for you to ask the question for weeks now," you said, smiling at how shocked Lando looked at your responce.

"Really? I thought it would be inappropriate to ask so quickly," Lando explained shyly, his cheeks turning red for a second.

"Aww Lando you're such a gentleman!" you said, melting at his words and pressing a kiss on his cheek as a reward. "You definitely deserve a treat after this,"

"I'm all yours," Lando smirked, his hands up in 'surrender' but you knew it wasn't going to take long for his hands to get back on your body. . . .

[theonottsbxtch]

TEACHER'S PET PT.1 | CL16

an: what's this? a student x teacher fic LOLOLOLOLOLOL if my dad had loved me i wouldn't be writing shit this unhinged i promise x

wc: 4.3k

warnings: mentions of infidelity

The first time she'd caught him staring, she thought it was an accident. The second, merely a coincidence. The third, however, she knew it was on purpose.

It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. Not really. In a class of nearly a hundred students, it seemed absurd to imagine that his attention could be directed at her—out of everyone. But there was something different about the way his gaze lingered. The first time, she’d been bent over her notebook, pen poised between her fingers, when a prickling sensation crept up the back of her neck. Her body had responded before her mind could. She glanced up and caught his eyes on her—just for a second—before he turned away, resuming his lecture as if nothing had happened.

She told herself it was nothing. Professors scanned the room all the time; it wasn’t unusual. But the memory stuck with her, burrowing into the quiet moments of her day, resurfacing when she didn’t expect it to.

The second time, it was subtler, but undeniable. She was seated toward the middle, further from the front than usual. Maybe she'd subconsciously chosen that spot to test it. To see if it would happen again. As he paced through the lecture, hands animated in the air as he spoke about the History of French Art, his eyes swept over the students, pausing just long enough on her to make her heart lurch. This time, she held his gaze for a beat longer than she should have, curiosity flaring to life. But just as quickly, he looked away.

Coincidence, she’d thought. It had to be.

By the third time, it wasn't a coincidence anymore.

It was late October, the air turning crisp as the days shortened. Leaves fell in lazy spirals outside the tall windows of the lecture hall, a cold wind knocking against the glass in soft, hollow gusts. She had arrived early, settling into her usual seat—closer now, near the front, where she could no longer pretend she was avoiding it. He arrived minutes later, his leather satchel worn but polished, the faint scent of coffee trailing him as he passed. He was always well-dressed, the kind of polished professional that seemed to belong to a different era—dark, tailored suits, pressed shirts, cufflinks that gleamed subtly under the classroom lights.

She had begun to notice the details: the curls in his dark hair, the way he absently adjusted his watch while answering questions, the deliberate, measured way he spoke, each word chosen with care.

But today, she felt him notice her. Before the lecture even started, his gaze found her. It was a quick thing, just a flicker in her direction as he arranged his notes at the podium. Her heart tripped in her chest, but she kept her face impassive, pretending to reread the passage in front of her, though she couldn’t concentrate on the words. When he began to speak, the room seemed to shrink around them. The voices of other students faded into the background. She found herself hyper-aware of the space between them—the few feet that suddenly felt like miles.

His lecture today was slower, quieter. He paced less, choosing instead to remain near the podium, his voice steady but subdued. She could feel his presence even when she wasn’t looking at him. When she dared a glance up from her notes, his eyes found hers again, not lingering too long but long enough to send a pulse of heat through her skin.

She tried to focus on what he was saying—something about Paul Cezanne and the nature of his art—but the words slipped past her. Instead, her attention drifted to the curve of his jaw as he spoke, the way his lips barely parted between words. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he know how often she thought of him lately? How she’d started to dread the days without his lectures, without that strange, invisible thread of tension pulling tighter each time their eyes met?

As the class drew to a close, she felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Everyone else began packing their things, zipping bags and rustling papers, but she lingered. Just a little. Her fingers slowly gathered her notebook and pens, her movements unhurried, as if she had nowhere else to be. She watched from the corner of her eye as the last few students filtered out, leaving only the two of them in the now-silent room.

She stood, slipping her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave, when his voice stopped her.

“Miss?”

Her name sounded different on his lips. Softer. She hesitated, her heart picking up speed, and turned slowly to face him. He wasn’t looking at her, not yet. His hand was poised above the chalkboard, chalk still in his grip, but he seemed distracted. He wiped at something absentmindedly, as though the motion was only a pretext to gather his thoughts.

“Yes?” she asked, keeping her voice steady, though her heart was anything but.

He turned to her then, his expression unreadable, the lines of his face shadowed by the dimming afternoon light filtering through the windows. His eyes, though, were sharp, studying her with a quiet intensity that made her chest tighten.

“You did well today,” he said, his voice low but clear, as if they were the only two people in the world just then. “Your insights during the discussion—they were... thoughtful.”

“Thank you,” she managed, though the words felt distant, automatic. There was a strange heaviness to the air, as though it was thicker, pressing in around them. The space between them felt far too small, too charged with things unspoken.

She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Is there something else?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He held her gaze, and in that silence, something shifted. His lips parted, just slightly, as if he might say more—but he stopped. She thought she saw the faintest flicker of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth, but it vanished almost immediately.

“No,” he said, his voice even again, controlled. “That’s all.”

She nodded, a quiet acknowledgment, though the air still buzzed with what had not been said. And as she turned to leave, she could feel the weight of his eyes on her once more, lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

-

The library was unusually quiet for a weekday afternoon. The familiar scent of old books and polished wood mingled with the faint hum of the heating system as they walked through the aisles, the muffled sound of footsteps against carpet the only break in the silence. She and Logan had come here to study—a common enough ritual for them when end of semester exams loomed, the weight of expectations pressing down like a lead blanket.

He slid into the chair across from her, his laptop open before she even had the chance to settle her bag down. Logan was efficient like that, practical. His blond hair was tousled from the brisk wind outside, and he gave her an easy, absent smile as he booted up his computer, already lost in his task list for the day.

"Ready to drown yourself in more French Literature?" he asked, his voice warm but distracted.

She nodded, though her mind was elsewhere. The conversation with Professor Leclerc still echoed in her head, like the ticking of a clock she couldn't silence. Her fingers itched with the memory of his eyes on her, that unreadable expression, the way he'd spoken her name as if it carried weight, like he knew something she didn’t.

She forced herself to focus, pulling out her notebook and the folder with her most recent assignment—an analysis of La Liberté guidant le peuple painting by Eugène Delacroix. She'd thought she’d done well, putting in extra hours at the library and wrestling with the dense material until it finally clicked. But when she unfolded the paper and saw the red scrawl at the top, her stomach sank.

52%.

Her breath caught, heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest as she stared at the number. Not even a C, but a D. How? She skimmed through the feedback—detached but firm in Professor Leclerc’s familiar handwriting. Unclear analysis. Lacking depth. The words felt like they were meant to hurt, stinging more than they should have.

Logan looked up from his screen, noticing the shift in her expression.

"Everything okay?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, his brows furrowing in concern.

She hesitated for a moment, then turned the paper around to show him. He glanced at the grade, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Ouch," he said, though his tone was still light, casual. "That’s rough. I know you spent ages on that."

"Yeah..." she muttered, unable to stop the flicker of frustration and disappointment from colouring her voice. She clenched her fists, crumpling the edge of the paper slightly as the words replayed in her mind. Lacking depth. The phrase stung more than the grade itself. What had she missed? And why did the criticism feel so much more personal than it should?

"You should talk to him," Logan said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Go to his office hours. You might be able to make a case, ask for extra credit or something."

She stiffened at the suggestion, the knot in her chest tightening. "I don’t know. He’s... strict about grades. I doubt it’ll change anything."

Logan shrugged, looking back at his screen. "You never know. Worst case, you get some feedback on where you went wrong. Best case, you convince him to give you another shot."

Her pulse quickened. Convince him. The idea of sitting in that small office with Professor Leclerc, discussing her work, his gaze on her again—it was unsettling, but not in the worst of ways. The very thought made her stomach twist in a way she couldn’t quite define, a mixture of anxiety and something else. Something that felt wrong but pulled at her nonetheless.

Logan looked up again, catching her hesitation. "Seriously, it’s no big deal. You’re one of his best students—he’ll probably just tell you what you need to fix. Maybe offer extra sessions or something."

His words felt innocent enough, completely unaware of what the suggestion stirred in her. Extra sessions. The thought sent an unexpected jolt through her. Her mind flashed briefly to the quiet, almost charged moments in class, the way Professor Leclerc’s voice dropped when he spoke directly to her, the way he lingered a little too long when he passed her desk.

She forced herself to shake it off. This was ridiculous. There was nothing going on—nothing she could even explain. She had a boyfriend who cared about her, who wanted her to do well, and all she could think about was how it felt to stand in that empty classroom, her professor’s eyes on her like she was the only one who existed.

"Yeah... maybe," she said, trying to sound casual, but her voice came out tight. She stared at the grade again, her mind a swirl of confusion, frustration, and something she didn’t want to name. "I’ll think about it."

Logan smiled at her encouragingly, leaning forward to squeeze her hand briefly. "Don’t stress. You’ve got this."

She returned the smile, but it felt thin, forced. As he went back to typing away at his notes, she couldn’t help but glance again at the feedback on the page. The red ink stared back at her, cold and unforgiving. But even more than that, the thought of confronting Professor Leclerc, sitting in his office alone, weighed on her in a way that made her throat tighten.

Could she really face him after everything? Would he look at her the same way he did in class? Would he push her in the same subtle way he had before, or would it be worse, with the closed door and the quiet of his office wrapping around them?

She knew she should go, knew Logan was right—it was just about the grade. It was practical. But the thought of those “extra sessions,” of being alone with him again, felt anything but simple.

And yet, despite the unease, she couldn’t deny the small, traitorous part of her that wondered what it might be like.

"Actually," she said, her voice quieter than she intended, "I think I’ll go to his office now."

Logan looked up from his screen, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Right now?"

She nodded, folding the paper neatly and tucking it into her notebook. "Yeah... I don’t want to let it hang over me all day. It’s better if I just get it over with, right?"

He smiled, a warm, easy grin that was comforting in its familiarity. "Good call. I’m sure he’ll understand. Just be confident—you’ve got this."

She smiled back, a little tighter than before, but she hoped he didn’t notice. The knot in her chest was tightening again, a strange mix of nerves and anticipation that made her feel a little lightheaded.

Logan closed his laptop, stood, and walked around the table toward her. He leaned down to kiss her, his lips brushing hers in a soft, reassuring goodbye. "Text me when you’re done?"

"Yeah, I will," she murmured, her heart not quite in the kiss. She tried to focus on the comfort of his presence, the safety of their easy rhythm, but her mind had already drifted, tugged in another direction by thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Logan gave her a last, encouraging smile before turning back to his seat. "Good luck."

As she walked away, her fingers clenched the strap of her bag a little tighter, the soft echo of their parting kiss lingering, but quickly fading. Each step toward Professor Leclerc’s office felt heavier, the atmosphere around her shifting as she crossed the campus toward the quiet wing of the humanities building.

It wasn’t far—just a few minutes’ walk through the maze of lecture halls and corridors she’d grown familiar with over the last few semesters. But today, it felt different. The air was cooler, the fading autumn sunlight casting long, golden shadows across the stone walls. Her breath felt shallow, quickening with each step. By the time she reached the languages faculty office wing, the silence was almost oppressive, the only sound the faint click of her shoes against the floor.

When she turned the final corner, his office door was in view—closed but with the light seeping out from beneath it. She hesitated just a few paces from the door, her heart thrumming in her chest. She knew she had to knock, but something made her pause.

And then, her eyes drifted to the window beside his office door.

The blinds were drawn half-closed, leaving just enough of an opening to glimpse inside. At first, it was only the dim light that caught her attention, the low glow of a desk lamp casting a golden hue over the room. But then she saw him.

Professor Leclerc was standing behind his desk, his blazer tossed over the back of his chair, the crisp white sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His glasses, which she’d rarely seen him wear in class, perched on the bridge of his nose as he focused intently on something in front of him—papers, perhaps, or a book. The soft, thoughtful frown on his lips was different from the commanding presence he carried during lectures. It was quieter. Intimate, almost.

Her breath hitched as she watched him, her body reacting instinctively, against her will. The way his shoulders tensed slightly when he concentrated, the curve of his jaw in the low light, the way his forearms flexed as he absently adjusted his glasses—it all felt impossibly distracting. The mundane act of him rolling up his sleeves, of removing the formal layers she was used to seeing him in, suddenly felt... intimate. Personal.

Her heart sped up, pounding hard against her ribcage, and heat flushed through her chest. She knew she shouldn’t be standing there, peering in like this, but she couldn’t tear herself away. The way he looked—casual yet somehow more powerful without the blazer, the sharp lines of his face softened by the glasses—was doing something to her she hadn’t anticipated.

Her mind flickered back to the kiss Logan had given her just minutes ago, but it felt distant now, like a faint memory that didn’t belong to this moment. All she could think about was the quiet allure of Professor Leclerc, the slow burn of attraction that had been building for weeks now, whether she wanted it or not.

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t go into his office feeling like this, her thoughts racing in directions they shouldn’t. She had a boyfriend. She was here to talk about her grade, to be professional, to fix a problem. Nothing more.

But as she stared through the narrow gap in the blinds, watching him shift slightly, leaning back to stretch his arms above his head, she felt that sense of professionalism slipping away. The tension in her stomach coiled tighter, her fingers trembling slightly as she reached out to knock on the door.

Before her knuckles even made contact, his voice called out from the other side.

"Come in."

Her breath caught in her throat. He hadn’t even looked up, hadn’t seen her standing there, but the sound of his voice—low, calm, commanding—felt like it wrapped around her, pulling her in. She hesitated for a second longer, her pulse thrumming in her ears, before finally pushing the door open.

The office was warmer than she expected, the scent of old books and polished wood heavy in the air. The soft glow from the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, creating an almost intimate atmosphere despite its professional setting.

Professor Leclerc glanced up from his desk, his glasses still resting on his nose, and for a moment, their eyes met. Something flickered in his gaze—recognition, perhaps, or something else she couldn’t quite name. His expression remained neutral, but the intensity behind his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

"Miss," he said, his voice smooth, like velvet brushing against her skin. "I didn’t expect to see you so soon."

The door clicked shut behind her, the sound louder than she expected in the quiet room. She felt a sudden rush of heat rising in her cheeks, her throat tightening as she stepped further inside. Professor Leclerc had returned his attention to the papers on his desk, marking something with precise strokes of his pen, but the moment she entered, his eyes flicked back to her, and she felt pinned under the weight of his gaze.

She stood there, frozen for a moment, unsure of where to place herself in the room that suddenly felt far too small. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, making it hard to think clearly.

"Have a seat," he said, his voice low but authoritative. It wasn’t a request.

Without thinking, she moved quickly toward the chair in front of his desk and sat down, too eager to comply. As soon as she settled, she realised how obedient she must have seemed—too quick, too eager. She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself, gripping the strap of her bag tightly in her lap. Her fingers trembled slightly, but she hoped he couldn’t see.

He took off his glasses then, placing them carefully on the desk, and leaned back in his chair. The gesture felt deliberate, a small act of removing a barrier between them, and she couldn’t help but notice how different he looked without them. His eyes—sharp and intense—were fully on her now, no longer obscured by the glass. The lines of his face were clearer, more defined in the soft lamplight, and her chest tightened at how attractive he was, especially like this—more relaxed, more... human.

"You came about your essay," he said, stating it like a fact rather than a question.

"Y-yes," she stammered, cursing herself for the shakiness in her voice. Her throat felt dry, and she shifted in her seat, trying to regain some composure. "I—um—just wanted to understand where I went wrong. I didn’t expect to... do so poorly."

He nodded, his expression unreadable as he flipped open the folder containing his copy of her work. His fingers traced the edge of the paper, his touch light but purposeful, and for some reason, her heart skipped a beat at the simple motion.

"You missed the core of the analysis," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Your analysis was surface-level. You wrote only about what we could see, but you didn’t engage how you felt. You didn’t deconstruct the painting—you only described it."

Her cheeks burned at his criticism. She bit her lip, nodding, though the words stung. She should have expected this, should have been prepared for him to be direct, but hearing him say it—especially in this setting, in this tone—made her feel smaller somehow.

He turned the paper toward her, pointing at a paragraph near the middle. "Here, for example. You’re focusing too much on the colours of the painting, but not enough on why Delacroix used them. You’re missing the underlying tension he’s working with—between art as a system of signs and the meaning that constantly escapes it."

His explanation was calm, almost gentle, but it still felt intimate, as if every word he said was meant just for her. His eyes lingered on hers, watching her reactions carefully, and she nodded again, barely able to focus on what he was saying, her mind still buzzing with the proximity of him, the quiet authority in his voice.

"I see," she whispered, though she wasn’t sure she fully did. It was hard to think clearly when he was sitting across from her, the small space between them charged with something unspoken.

He shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward just enough that she could smell the faint hint of his cologne—clean, subtle, but warm. It surrounded her, making it harder to breathe, harder to stay focused. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her bag, her knuckles white as she tried to ground herself.

"You have potential," he continued, his voice softer now, like he was letting her in on a secret. "Your writing is strong, but you’re holding back. You need to dig deeper. Don’t be afraid to get lost in the complexity of the ideas—that’s where the real analysis happens."

Her stomach flipped at the way he said it, at the way his eyes seemed to darken slightly as they met hers. She didn’t know if she was imagining it, but the air between them felt heavier now, like something was shifting. The quiet hum of the heater in the corner was the only sound breaking the silence, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in the room.

"I’ll... work on that," she managed to say, though her voice felt weak, distant from her own ears. She could barely process his feedback, her thoughts too consumed by the way his gaze lingered on her, the way her body reacted to his closeness.

He sat back in his chair, his posture more relaxed now, though his eyes never left her. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Good. I’m here to help you with that. You can always come by during office hours if you need more guidance. I can set aside extra time for you if you’re struggling."

The words—extra time—sent a shiver down her spine, the implication innocent enough, but something about the way he said it, the way the room felt in that moment, made her pulse quicken. She could feel her cheeks growing hotter, her breath shallow, and for a moment, she was sure he could sense it, could see exactly how flustered she was.

This was wrong.

She shouldn’t be feeling this way. Not here. Not with him. She had a boyfriend—Logan, who loved her, who trusted her, who was waiting for her to text him when this was over. But as Professor Leclerc’s eyes held hers, steady and unwavering, it was impossible to deny the pull she felt, the quiet attraction that had been building in her chest for weeks now.

"I... I should go," she said abruptly, standing too quickly, her legs shaky as she gathered her things. She could feel her heart racing, the room suddenly feeling too small, too warm. "Thank you for your time, Professor."

He stood as well, watching her closely, but he made no move to stop her. His expression was calm, though there was something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite name, but it made her chest tighten. He nodded once, his voice smooth as ever.

"Of course. You know where to find me if you need more help."

She nodded, barely able to meet his gaze as she turned toward the door, her fingers fumbling with the handle before she managed to push it open. The cool air from the hallway rushed over her as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Only when she was a few steps down the hall did she let out the breath she’d been holding. Her hands were shaking, her mind racing as she tried to process what had just happened—nothing inappropriate, nothing overtly wrong, but still, the way he had looked at her, the way he had spoken to her, made her feel like she was walking a fine line.

Her chest tightened with guilt. She had a boyfriend. Logan loved her, trusted her. And Professor Leclerc... he was her professor.

This was wrong.

part two

[saturnville]

baby blue hue, l. hamilton

pairing: lewis hamilton x black wife oc (she). summary: the blue sweater has her weak in the knees…literally. warnings: sexual situations. 18+. an: this was supposed to be posted like a month ago then I forgot hehe. tags: @boujiestpoet @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @greedyjudge2 @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @ggaslyp1 @neewrites @cocobutterqwueen

“I wanna touch you.”

She watched as her husband halted in his tracks. She saw his head jerk back in shock then listened as his shoes squeaked against the floor. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes glistened with interest. Her eyes fell to his hands, which had fallen from his shirt and in front of him. His tattooed fingers circled his gold wedding band slowly.

His tone was teasing as he stepped toward her, “What was that, baby?” He soaked in her current appearance just as she’d done him. She wasn’t joining him on his travels this time so she was not dressed as elegantly as him. She wore her “at-home staple;” a gray bodycon dress with simple jewelry, including her beautifully designed wedding set. Her hair, freshly braided, was tight loosely behind her shoulders. He, too, could touch her if he let his inhibitions loose.

She rolled her shoulders back and welcomed his hands around her waist. Through his sunglasses, he looked down at her. He was so fine. One of the things that attracted him to her was his ability to execute his vision fashionably. He looked good in everything he wore, but the baby blue against his rich complexion sent her into overdrive. The deep cut of the sweater didn’t help her situation either, as her eyes kept falling toward the place she wanted the most at that moment.

She pushed the glasses upward and tossed them on the couch behind them. Her hands came around his neck, caressing his skin lightly. Then, they swept down his shoulders before gliding down his chest. Her nails traced the outlines of the compass tattoo; his body jolted at her touch. Her eyes were full of mischief as she pulled the front of his shirt out of the waistline of his pants and palmed his abdomen. Her touch was electrifying as she rubbed along his golden skin.

His breaths grew heavy as she worked him up with just the feeling of her hands. She took note of every sigh, fluttering of his eyelids, and clench of his jaw.

Her lips found his neck, nipping and biting along his smooth skin. She inhaled softly. And he smelled so good. Her hands found a quick work of his pants, fiddling with the clasp that held them securely around his waist. “Can I touch you, baby? Just wanna make you feel good…”

However, she didn’t continue until she heard him agree. But as soon as she heard the breathless yes pass from his lips, she pushed him against the back of the couch and lowered herself. She loved getting what she wanted and loved seeing him lose control from her touch.

She could still hear her name fall from his lips in breathless whines, feel his fingers caressing her scalp as he fought the urge to wrap her braids around his fist and sense his quivering body as she pushed him over the edge. He had truly come undone.

She stood to her feet a few minutes later, wiping the corners of her mouth and smiling cheekily. Lewis, chest heaving as he struggled to regain his composure, looking into her lustful eyes. “You, darling, are something else.” His left hand cupped her neck, pulling her to him, while his right squeezed her bottom. He pressed his mouth against hers in a sloppy exchange that left her knees buckling and stomach churning. “Love you, baby.”

“Mhm,” she mumbled against his lips. “Love you more. Be prepared to take it off when you get back.”

“Yes ma’am.”

—

saturn’s command center 🚀: I hope you enjoyed this long overdo update 🩵

[smile-44]

A secret - Charles Leclerc x sister reader

Disclaimer: all of this is just fiction . None of this reflects reality in any way whatsoever

The Secret

[fernandopiastri28]

stop to smell the flowers ❀ - oscar piastri

Oscar is so incredulously smitten for his girlfriend to the point he doesn't even know how to express it with words- so he does it through actions and gifts. ~ (self indulgent and SO short)

“Baby?” A soft echo of his voice vibrated through the eerily quiet apartment, not a single noise besides his shoes scuffling against the carpet. Oscar set down his bag on the kitchen counter, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the side. 

He waited again for a response from his girlfriend- but to no avail. He raised his voice slightly higher this time, moving closer towards the shut door of their bedroom. Keeping his noise down, Oscar pressed down on the handle of the door, attempting to keep the screeching creak to a minimum so as to disturb her, or wake her if she was currently sleeping.

To his unsurprise, his girlfriend was curled up in bed, her head resting at the very bottom of her pillow. Her bottom lip was puffed out over the top one, lashes sweeping over the tops of her cheeks. The quiet whistle of breathing filled the room, cutting through the silence from a lack of a fan going in the background.

She had her arms wrapped around a teddy bear, pressed into her chest. It was a small fluffy koala, adorned in a custom made McLaren jersey, a black 81 printed on the back. She’d named it Oscar, the teddy she held close to her each night when he was away. 

The real Oscar was returning home to Australia and home to his girlfriend after the Miami grand prix, almost a whole month passing since he’d seen her last on the night after the Japanese grand prix, when he’d brought her to the airport to go back to Melbourne, then flying off to China himself.

Due to her being in her last year of university, her availability to go to every race- or even just most- was limited. She came when she could, but it was more often than not that she was at home, cheering him on from the comfort of her own bed or the couch. They'd gotten semi used to the unfortunately forced long distance relationship they now had, but it didn't make it any bit easier each time they had to part. At times, it felt as if each time he had to leave was just more difficult then the last.

She wasn’t expecting him to come back so soon, and nor did he. He fully thought his flight would be the following day and he got comfortable with the idea of a cosy night at the hotel- maybe a call to her and a movie. It wasn’t until Mark had offered the option for him to fly home just a mere four hours after the race ended- he didn’t waste a minute packing his suitcase back up and boarding the flight.

Oscar peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, making sure as to not disturb her in the process. He slid his shirt off over his head, opening up the closet door to find his favourite shirt. Even after a few minutes of searching both the hangers and the drawers without a sight of it, he looked over at his shoulder, smirking when he saw that it was the shirt his girlfriend had chosen for bed today.

Oscar settled for just a plain white top, his ‘OP’ logo imprinted over the left breast. He unbuttoned his blue jeans, allowing them to pool around his ankles until he stepped out, tossing them into the laundry basket. Now dressed in only his boxers and a far more comfortable shirt then the previous ever so itchy team polo shirt, he climbed into bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he breathed in the sweet, floral shampoo that filled his senses. It was his favourite smell- it smelt of home. He nuzzled further into her neck, pressing a few chaste, open mouth kisses to her soft skin. 

Holding back from any serious marking, Oscar mouthed at her shoulder, dragging his tongue gently over the fabric on her shoulder, letting his teeth rub against it. “I missed you, beautiful,” He whispered, kissing up along her neck.

She whined, unconsciously twisting around in the bed to be facing toward him. He took the opportunity to press a few consecutive kisses to her lips, enough to settle the desperation for contact that bubbled hot in his stomach. 

Her eyes fluttered, looking as if they would open. “Hi princess,” He tucked some of her hair back behind her ear, nuzzling back into said spot to re-immerse himself in the flowery scent.

“Osccc,” Her voice was thick and groggy with sleep, her eyes open by mere slits in order to block out as much light as possible. “You’re back!” She mumbled with as much enthusiasm as possible while still being mostly asleep.

“Mhmm,” A grin splayed across his mouth, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. “You smell so good,” He kissed the junction of her  shoulder, leaving his lips there for a few more seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back so soon? I would’ve stayed up,” She cupped his face in her hands, her fingers temperate against his chilly and rosy cheeks. Oscar gave a weak shrug, ignoring the question in lieu for kissing her more to warm himself up. 

“It’s okay- I like this,” Oscar mumbled against her bottom lip, kissing her again and again until his jaw physically ached. “I got you a present,”

She tilted her head back, her left hand still positioned on his jaw- her thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Oh really?” She whispered, giggling as he met her question with a dopey grin.

“In the kitchen,” He rolled away from her, stumbling awkwardly back out of the bed. “C’mon, I promise it’s worth getting out of bed for,” He reassured her when he saw the displeased and unconvinced look on her face.

Begrudgingly, she followed suit- stumbling out of the bedroom door while wiping sleep from her eyes. She clung to Oscar, wrapping both of her arms around one of his, as the bottom of her sweatpants dragged along the wooden floorboard.

“It’s like a welcome home present, but for you- not me,” He handed her a bouquet of an assortment of orange flowers- begonias, marigolds, tulips, poppies. Anything that matched the same papaya colour that she wore across her torso. 

Her heart pounded at the gesture, looking up at Oscar with the most fond expression. “Thank you, Oz,” She wrapped one of her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as her other hand worked on holding the bundle of flowers. “Thank you so much, I love them,” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched from one ear to the other on her face, her body alight with elation.

“Of course, baby,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing her back with the hand that held her just as tight as she was holding him. “I think you deserved it with how you’ve been working,” 

She scoffed slightly, looking up at him with an incredulous expression. “Me working hard? What about you, Mr ‘Four Podiums in Your Second Year in Formula one?’,” 

Oscar gave another mindless shrug, laughing at her comment, “What, like it’s hard?” He teased.

[f1fantasys]

Lando/Charles prompt list!

Armani - he fucks a baby into you Balenciaga - swallowing his cum Balmain - he breaks up with you, then you meet again after some time, very angsty, some smut Chanel - on your knees, in front of him Calvin Klein - exes meeting again, angsty with smut at the end Dior - nipple stimulation Fendi - using a condom and it breaks Givenchy - doggy style Hermes - oral stimulation for both Jimmy Choo - hate/anger sex Louis Vutton - semi public sex Michael Kors - jealous sex Nike - caught by his parents Polo - wedding day sex Ralph Lauren - angsty sex Saint Laurent - you're a stripper and he keeps coming back for more Tommy Hilfiger - fwb during race weekends Versace - exes hooking up YSL - he takes out his frustration on you

WITH

1 - rough and filthy 2 - dirty talk 3 - cockwarming 4 - possessiveness 5 - daddy kink 6 - choking 7 - missionary 8 - in the shower 9 - post-birth penetration (angsty or not) 10 - punishment for being a brat

[thef1diary]

Royally Fucked | One

— Guarded Encounter

series masterlist

wc: 2.9k

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work

here it is, my first ever oc and au story with my beloved ofc!! Let’s hop in to a world of royalty, romance, and restrictions. Thank you sm to @chilling-seavey for proofreading and letting me talk about Juliette and Daniel for hoursss, this story literally wouldn’t be written without your support <3

─────────── ♛ ───────────

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the secluded outdoor training grounds of the palace, filtering through the lush canopy of ancient oak trees, creating intricate patterns of light and shadow on the freshly mowed lawn. The spring air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of blooming jasmine and the distant murmur of the bubbling fountain that had rested in the courtyard for centuries.

Juliette stood alone in this tranquil space, a considerable distance from the bustling palace. The noise of the palace–where maids were likely preparing for the day and guards stood watchful at every corridor–was a stark contrast to the serene quietude of the training grounds. Here, in the calm early morning, she found a fleeting sense of peace before the grounds would be teeming with activity. The only sounds were the gentle rustling of the leaves in the breeze and the soft, rhythmic thud of her arrows hitting the target.

Juliette drew another arrow from her finely crafted quiver, its polished wood glinting in the sunlight. With practiced grace, she nocked the arrow and drew back the string of her elegant bow, the tension humming in her ears. She took a deep breath, the cool morning air filling her lungs, and focused intently on the distant target. The world around her seemed to fade away, leaving only the bow, the arrow, and her steady heartbeat.

As she released the arrow, it soared through the air with a faint whisper, striking the bullseye with a satisfying thud. Juliette allowed herself a small, triumphant smile, her eyes lingering on the target for a moment longer before she heard footsteps approaching from behind. 

Drawing another arrow from her quiver, she spoke without turning around, her voice steady and tinged with mild annoyance. “You’re late.”

“Apologies, Your Royal Highness,” came an unfamiliar accented voice, smooth and respectful.

Startled by the unexpected voice, Juliette spun around, bow still in hand, nocked with an arrow, and instinctively pointed it at the source of the unknown voice. Before her stood a man in a sharply tailored suit, his attire crisp and formal. A pair of dark sunglasses concealed his eyes, but the cheeky glint in them was betrayed by the playful smile that tugged at his lips. His curly hair, slightly tousled and catching the morning light, added an effortless charm to his otherwise polished appearance.

He raised his hands in a placating gesture, his expression calm and slightly amused, a hint of cheerfulness in his demeanour that seemed at odds with the seriousness of the situation. 

“I was not informed you would be here, so it took me a while to find you,” the man continued, crossing his arms for a moment before pointing at the weapon in Juliette’s hand. “Do you always point a bow and arrow at your bodyguard?” 

“Who are you? Where’s Oliver?” Juliette demanded, her gaze sharp as she assessed the stranger before her. 

“I’m Daniel Ricciardo, Your Royal Highness.” 

“That doesn’t explain who you are.”

“I’m pretty sure telling you my name does,” Daniel said with a slight smile, crossing his arms again confidently. “But to clarify, I’m your new bodyguard.”

“New bodyguard?” Juliette asked, still not lowering her guard entirely.

Daniel smiled, nodding. “I’m here to fill in for Oliver while he’s on paternity leave.”

“Paternity leave?” She repeated, incredulously. “And no one thought to inform me?”

“It appears so, Your Royal Highness,” Daniel replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. “I understand the surprise, but I assure you, I am qualified to protect you. Now will you lower the bow?”

The princess, still not convinced, cast a skeptical glance towards the palace doors, which stood a fair distance away. A few other guards were stationed there, ever vigilant. Her voice carried an authoritative tone as she called out, “guards.”

Two of the palace guards approached, maintaining their respectful distance. Juliette pointed towards Daniel, her eyes narrowing. “Is he my new bodyguard?”

Daniel, noticing the guards, gave them a playful wave, his lips curling into a friendly smile as he muttered their names in acknowledgement. 

One of the guards, nodding, confirmed, “yes, Your Royal Highness. Your previous bodyguard is on paternity leave for one year starting today. Daniel Ricciardo has been assigned as your temporary guard.”

Juliette scrutinized Daniel for a moment longer before dismissing the guards with a curt nod and a wave. “Very well. You may stay,” she directed at Daniel.

As the guards returned to their posts, Juliette resumed her archery practice, her movements precise and fluid. Occasionally, she glanced towards Daniel, who watched her with an encouraging smile, his demeanour relaxed yet attentive.

Determined to test his capabilities, Juliette decided to issue a challenge. She turned to Daniel, her expression a mix of curiosity and skeptism. “Show me what you’ve got. Let’s see if you can match my aim.”

Daniel’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he removed his sunglasses, revealing a spark of playful confidence. “As you wish, Your Royal Highness.”

As he took the bow from her, Juliette caught a hint of his cologne–a subtle, sophisticated scent that lingered in the air, adding an unexpected touch of elegance to the moment. Daniel took careful aim, and with a fluid practiced motion, released the arrow. It flew straight and true, hitting the target dead center. The arrow quivered in the bullseye, a perfect shot.

Juliette raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching slightly in surprise, though she did her best to mask it. “Beginner’s luck,” she said, maintaining her composure.

“Perhaps,” Daniel replied, handing the bow back to her with a grin. “But I’m confident I can keep up with you.”

The sun began to climb higher in the sky, casting longer shadows across the training grounds. The peaceful solitude of the early hours was gradually being replaced by the sounds of the palace stirring to life. Juliette could hear the distant chatter of servants as they wandered around the garden, completing their tasks one by one.

As she released the next arrow, she felt Daniel’s presence close behind her, a silent, watchful guardian. There was no need for conversation, save for the occasional words of encouragement and compliments from Daniel. Juliette appreciated that he understood the importance of remaining as quiet as possible, even though she preferred complete silence. It was a change she would have to adjust to, no matter how irritating, since Daniel was an unorthodox bodyguard, different compared to what she was used to with Oliver.

Oliver had been stoic and reserved, his demeanor always serious and focused. He rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary, blending into the background and providing a comforting, silent presence. Daniel, on the other hand, was cheerful and approachable, exuding a relaxed yet attentive confidence. His occasional light-hearted comments were a stark contrast to Oliver’s predictability, adding a new dynamic Juliette wasn’t sure how to handle yet.

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As Juliette walked through the grand halls of the palace, the opulence and history that surrounded her were unmistakable. Ornate chandeliers hung from high, vaulted ceilings, casting a warm golden light that danced off the marble floors. Tapestries depicting the kingdom’s rich history adorned the walls, their vibrant colours a stark contrast to the cool, elegant stone. Large windows allowed the waning sunlight to stream in, creating a serene yet majestic atmosphere.

The palace was a hive of activity, with maids bustling about, preparing for the evening, while guards remained vigilant at their posts. The air was filled with the aroma of the fresh flowers set in vases, and a hint of lavender that Juliette favoured. Noting the time, Juliette knew the hustle inside the palace would calm down as the day would go on, like clockwork. 

As she continued her determined march, she finally spotted King Albert returning from a diplomatic trip. She quickened her pace, Daniel trailing a few steps behind, his presence a constant, reassuring shadow. 

“Father, I should know about my bodyguard’s whereabouts as much as he should know about mine,” she started without properly greeting her father, following him into a room before glancing at Daniel pointedly. “So why wasn’t I informed about the change from Oliver to Daniel?” 

The king, sensing her distress, gestured for Daniel to leave. Daniel nodded at both her and the king before stepping outside the room, giving them privacy. 

Once the door clicked shut, the king turned to his daughter, his expression softening. “I know Oliver was like a close friend as much as a protector to you, but his absence was unavoidable. I personally appointed Daniel because he is the best of the best. I would not trust just anyone to protect you, and you know that.” 

Juliette frowned, still unhappy but reassured by her father’s confidence in Daniel. “I just wish I’d been informed.”

“I understand,” King Albert said gently. “I should have informed you myself. WIth everything happening, it slipped my mind. But believe me, Daniel is exceptional. He’s not just skilled; he’s loyal and trustworthy. Give him a chance. You’ll see he’s more than capable.”

Juliette nodded in agreement, deciding to try her best to adjust to an unfamiliarity in her structured routine. Her father’s words lingered in her mind, softening her resistance, but she couldn’t shake off the irritation of not being informed. If he trusted Daniel, then perhaps she should give him a fair chance. Yet, the thought of replacing Oliver, who was like a close friend, gnawed at her. How could Daniel, with his cheerful demeanor, fit into the role of her protector?

As she left the room, Daniel perked up, falling into step behind her. 

“Your Royal Highness,” Daniel said softly as they walked. She turned to face him, her expression void of any emotion. “I’m sorry for the abrupt introduction earlier. I assure you, in a couple days, you won’t feel the difference between Oliver and I at all.”

Juliette studied him for a moment before nodding, “We’ll see, Daniel, in a few days, how true that is.”

Deciding to test Daniel’s capabilities and patience, she thought of assigning him a series of errands. “Follow me to the library,” she ordered. 

To Juliette, the library was one of the most majestic rooms in the palace, a sanctuary of knowledge and history. High, vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes depicting scenes from the kingdom’s past loomed overhead. The walls were lined with dark mahogany bookshelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with an extensive collection of leather-bound volumes, ancient manuscripts, and modern texts. Each shelf was meticulously organized, reflecting the care and reverence given to the collection.

Juliette led Daniel through the vast room, the faint scent of aged paper and leather filling the air. She moved with ease among the towering bookshelves, her fingers occasionally brushing against the spines of the volumes she knew so well. This library was more than just a repository of knowledge; it was a sanctuary, a place where she spent countless hours lost in thought or absorbed in a book. After the training grounds, it was her second home.

“If you ever can’t find me anywhere else in the palace, I’m most likely here,” Juliette said, her voice soft but certain. She paused by the ladder on wheels and pointed to a stack of books perched on a particularly high shelf, their spines gleaming in the soft, golden light.

Daniel smoothly maneuvered the ladder, retrieving the requested volumes with practiced ease. As he handed her the books, he glanced around the library, taking in the room’s opulence and the sheer number of books. “Are you an avid reader, Your Royal Highness?” he asked, curiosity tinged his tone.

Juliette shrugged slightly, a faint smile playing on her lips. “I love organizing this place as much as I adore reading the books here,” she admitted. “There’s something soothing about the order and tranquility of this room. It’s a world of its own, away from the chaos and demands of palace life.”

“Well, it certainly is an impressive collection,” Daniel replied, his tone genuine as he scanned the shelves.

Juliette decided to push a little further. “Since you’re so eager to help, Daniel, could you arrange these books alphabetically by author? And then by genre, within each section.”

Daniel looked at the towering shelves, each packed with numerous books, and nodded without hesitation. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.”

Juliette watched as he began the task, moving efficiently yet carefully, his focus unwavering. She threw in more specific instructions as he worked. “The historical texts should go over there, and make sure the classics are separated from the modern literature.”

Daniel complied without complaint, even as the tasks grew more intricate. His demeanor remained calm and cheerful, never showing signs of irritation or frustration. He took her detailed directions in stride, organizing the books with precision.

After a while, satisfied with her experiment, Juliette decided to up the ante. “Could you also retrieve the books from the highest shelves over there? I’ve been meaning to reorganize them.”

Daniel nodded, moving to the next set of shelves with the same unwavering dedication. As he climbed the ladder, the scent of his cologne wafted through the air, a subtle blend of cedar and spice, adding an unfamiliar but not unwelcome layer to the library’s familiar aromas.

As Daniel continued his work, Juliette couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for his patience and efficiency. He didn’t just tolerate the tasks; he embraced them, showing no sign of annoyance or fatigue. When he finally finished, she realized he had passed her test with flying colors.

“Impressive,” she said, unable to hide her approval. “You handled that well.”

“Thank you, Your Royal Highness,” Daniel replied, playfully winking at her. “I’m here to serve.”

As evening fell and it was time to return to her chambers, Juliette walked in front of Daniel, glancing at him a couple of times, noting how he noticed everything around him, always on alert. His presence was a constant, reassuring shadow, even if his cheerful demeanor was unorthodox for a bodyguard.

“So, Daniel,” she said, breaking the silence, “what exactly qualifies you to be my bodyguard?”

Daniel met her gaze steadily. “I’ve had extensive training in combat, strategic planning, and diplomatic negotiation. I’ve protected several dignitaries in high-risk environments.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow. “And what do you know about protecting a princess?”

Daniel smiled slightly, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “It requires vigilance, discretion, and understanding the unique challenges of your position. Trust must be earned.”

Suddenly, she threw a blade directed at him, thinking he was distracted with their conversation. It was a small, sharp knife she had discreetly picked up from the kitchen as they passed through. But she was proven wrong when he caught it by the handle, right before it stabbed him. He glanced at it and chuckled before looking at her. “Did I pass all your tests now?”

The princess smirked, clearly impressed but unwilling to show it too much. “You’ve proven yourself capable, for now,” she said, her tone still guarded. “But trust is earned over time, not in a single day.”

Daniel nodded, handing the blade back to her handle-first. “I understand, Your Royal Highness. I’ll continue to prove my worth.”

As they reached her chambers, she paused at the door, turning to face him. “Be ready to escort me to our private plane in the morning, let’s see how well you do on an international trip.”

“Understood, Your Highness. I’ll be ready to escort you in the morning,” Daniel said with a nod.

“Also, I’m not sure if you know, but you don’t have to follow me around the palace. You just have to be there when I need you, mainly when I leave the grounds. You’re free to roam around otherwise, do whatever you’d like,” Juliette explained.

“If it is alright with you,” Daniel said, “I would like to stay by your side until you’re used to my presence and until I know your routine, then I can bother the other guards.” 

The princess raised an eyebrow. “Bother the other guards? They might not thank me for that.”

Daniel grinned. “Well, I’ll make sure they get used to me. I’ll even bring them pastries from the kitchen as a peace offering.”

She laughed softly, “and that’ll work?” 

“I’ll try,” Daniel replied. “Besides, a little charm and a few pastries go a long way in a royal palace.” 

Juliette shook her head, still smiling. “I suppose we’ll see how well you handle the job. Just make sure you don’t distract the other guards from their duties.”

Daniel placed a hand over his heart, feigning a dramatic hurt expression. “Me? A distraction? Never.” 

The princess raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “We’ll see about that. For now, try to stay out of trouble.”

“Trouble and I are old friends,” Daniel said with a mischievous grin. “But I’ll do my best to keep it at bay.”

Juliette chuckled, her expression softening. “Alright then. Goodnight, Daniel.”

“Goodnight, Your Highness,” Daniel said, bowing slightly, then looking up at her before winking playfully. 

As Juliette entered her room, a small, amused smile played on her lips. Daniel’s playful demeanour and easy charm were a stark contrast to the seriousness she was used to with her previous bodyguard, Oliver. Despite the initial irritation she felt at his unconventional approach, Juliette found herself intrigued by Daniel’s personality. His cheerfulness, though odd for a bodyguard, seemed to be a breath of fresh air amidst the palace’s often stifling formality. Perhaps, she mused, it was a change she could grow to appreciate.

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NO TAGLIST

[st4rg1rl-16]

━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ in a club max, lando and carlos make a plan to discover if the ferrari drivers are in a relationship, how? making charles jealous!

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 24 march

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ barcelona, spain

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ they are in a club so alcohol consumption jealous!charles, the boys being the little shits they are, fingering (wait what?!) lewis kinda flirting with bella?

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ I been MIA I know, sorry for that but here it is!!and things are starting to get heatedddd

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90 @wcnorris

• — need for speed’s masterlist

𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻

♡ liked by 𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵, 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗲𝗴𝗮𝘀𝗹𝘆 and 𝟴𝟲.𝟬𝟲𝟴 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻 After revolutionizing not only the motorsport world but also our hearts, Arabella Torres is crowned with the title of the new "it girl" of Europe.

"I've spent this last month hating my body and I'm tired of pretending that everything is fine" The Formula One driver opens up to us showing us her most vulnerable side about hate on social media and several other topics in the interview for the 200th issue of our magazine, now available on 💥 our link💥

Text: 𝗰𝗹𝗮𝘆𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗿

Interview: 𝘁𝗼𝗺_𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘁_𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

Photograph: 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸_𝗯𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗴𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗱_𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗼

Styling: 𝗺𝗼𝗯𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗷𝗶𝗱𝗮𝘄𝗼𝗱𝘂

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 have been tagged

𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝘀 🏎️🏎️🏎️

⤷ 𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻 😍

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭 Wait, I’m running to get it

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟮 I wasn’t a big fan of her but since I saw the live I love her

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟯 the same happened to me

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟰 Sorry for my ignorance, but what happened? I just got into the fandom.

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟯 Last month she was sexualized a lot on twitter because some youtubers uploaded a video and mentioned sexual things about her body, she went viral and began to have even more hate than she already had and made a live saying that she was going to leave social media for a while and then talked about how bad she felt, how it was a shame for her family and how it was “staining” her career. She basically talked about how bad it is to sexualize and also took out things like sexism and things like that (+)

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟯 (+) Then she left social media and we only saw her in the Shanghai and Azerbaijan gps and during these four weeks a lot of celebrities have talked about her and she has gone viral and now she is like the “it girl”.

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟱 ooooh, thanks for the explanation 💖

𝘀𝗰𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗮𝗿𝗶 That’s our girl!! 😌

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 muchas gracias por darme esta oportunidad! 🤍thank you very much for giving me this opportunity!

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟲 aww she is so cute, why do people hate her?

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟳 Unfortunately there are many people throwing hate at her even though she is a great person

⤷ 𝗴𝗾𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻 Te queremos, Arabella! 🥰 We love you!

𝗱𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗼 ARABELLA TOOOOOOOORRESSSSSSSSS

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 and 𝟭𝟮𝟳 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 liked this comment

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟴 my ship 🥺

𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟵 What they've done to her is horrible, now she hates her body when she's beautiful

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭𝟬 I would kill for having a body like hers

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭𝟭 that’s how society works 🙂

⤷ 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗲𝟭𝟮 she is probably going to get even more hate after this

"IT would be awesome if your first victory was in Spain" Oliver's smile was focused by the camera. His mother snapped her tongue looking at him with reprimand.

"Oli, son, don't swear on the table, please" The boy looked at his mother and gave her his most charming smile.

"Yes, mommy" The woman rolled her eyes and threw her napkin in his face so he complained while her husband laughed.

Arabella smiled watching the familiar scene unfolding in front of her. The truth was that she had missed it, after so many months away from them and seeing each other only by casual video calls, it was nice to be all together even if the whole family was not yet there because her parents had traveled to Barcelona, where her next race was going to be, with her brother the previous week to celebrate the birthday of the youngest of the Torres family and now a week later her grandparents, her uncles, aunts and her cousins were still to arrive so that everyone could attend the race on Sunday because they wanted to support Arabella in their native country. But this was nice, she had missed hearing her brother's nonsense, her mother acting like a mother and talking about cars with her father. She missed a normal life that she had never had.

"By the way" Her father caught her attention, turned her gaze to him drinking from her glass full of sangria. She saw out of the corner of her eye how she pointed to the team of Netflix’s cameras that surrounded them in the garden of the house they had rented during their stay in Barcelona “Do we have to speak in English or...?”.

Marisa, her mother, let out an disgusted moan “Oh, with how much I struggle with English”.

The green-eyed boy laughed as he nibbled at the chicken wing that his fingers were holding “I still don't understand how you don't know English, mom. Your children are literally international athletes, you should know English”.

"I know English" The eyes of the same color as that of her two children opened in the direction of the teenager before she began to speak in English with a very strong Spanish accent "How are you? I'm fine, thank you!” She smiled with self-centeredness, pointed to herself “See? what your mother doesn't know how to do...”

“Jeez" The girl murmured, sticking her lips to the glass again while her brother burst into laughter, almost chocking with the wing.

The one wearing the glasses looked at his wife with a small smile, obviously trying to hid the laughter that was about to come out, and winked at her “Of course, honey! you are good at everything”.

Her brother's smile increased when their mother smiled sending a kiss to their father, clearly not grasping the intention of his words. Arabella shook her head but still a smile had made room in her full lips, she left the glass on the table and lay down on her chair after making a sandwich with the chorizos that her father had cooked on the barbecue.

"It's for the Netflix’s Formula One docuseries" She spoke with her mouth full, making her mother look at her badly but she didn't see her because she was looking at her father. She shrugged her shoulders turning her gaze to the sandwich before giving it another bite “They wanted to see what my private life is like and we speaks in Spanish so no. Speak in Spanish, period”.

"But your private life so fucking boring" She looked at her brother badly while her teeth crushed the food in her mouth, he stuck out his tongue at her.

"Oh, really? Okay, okay, I don't invite you to the party tonight then” She smiled evilly at what the moto driver let out a gasp bringing his hand to his chest.

"So rude, sister" He shook his head "So rude”.

A pleasant silence covered the table after her brother's words. Manuel, her father, shared smiles with his wife while they watched their children eat. They had also missed the family moments and were grateful to be together, especially after what their daughter had gone through thanks to the internet.

"Then will you go out tonight?" The man cleared his throat, turning his gaze to his firstborn, who nodded.

"It's been the boys' idea" She rolled her eyes “They've just arrived and they already want to party”.

"Don't you have the classification tomorrow?" She nodded to her brother's question and grimaced when she felt their mother's gaze on her.

"Arabella Torres González, don't even think about drinking tonight." She raised her finger and pointed at her accusively. The girl nodded while father and son looked at each other knowing that she was indeed going to drink. The blonde turned her gaze to her plate when she began to cut a piece of bacon “If you drink, don't drive”.

"I wasn't going to go drunk to practice, but well" She murmured, giving the last bite to the bread. She wiped his lips with the napkin that was next to her plate.

The only brown eyed let out a breath of air when the cold Coca Cola passed through his throat and smiled “Well, I think it's great that you go out, honey. Especially after everything that has happened”.

She nodded, offering a smile to her father before looking down at her plate, a common reaction she had to the mention of the twitter situation.

"Do you think you're going to win?" She heard her brother ask and although she thanked him mentally because she knew that he had changed the subject to entertain her, she couldn't help to, without knowing why, tense.

Being honest, she knew why: everyone's eyes would be on her, not only because it was going to be the first time she was going to race in her country since she in formula one, but because of the same issue she was trying to avoid. She had disappeared since what happened, the only time the media could see her was in the Azerbaijan race and they didn't even see her too much because she refrained from doing interviews or any kind of media in addition to the fact that she had moved away from social media even closing her twitter account temporarily after announcing on Instagram live that she was tired of the comments towards her body.

She had managed to hide well from the paparazzi and that had made people talk about, the whole gossip magazines was talking about her and not only them because even in the sports they had mentioned her situation which had caught the attention of many celebrities, especially women, who defended her from the internet trolls and praised her for continuing with her sportiness above all. Her popularity had risen like foam and the contracts and offers of all kinds of brands had not taken long to reach her manager's email. The first offer they had accepted had been to be the cover of the May issue of GQ Magazine where she had taken the opportunity to talk about how the online comments about her body had affected her, which was something quite healing for her, being able to talk loudly about it because she had been keeping it to herself.

Before she didn’t give too much importance to her body, focused since she was a child on cars and nothing else had not gone through that stage in which insecurities about her physique tormented her but that controversy had provoked it. She had suffered a mini crisis in which she was never very hungry, she spent hours looking at her reflection in the mirror thinking that it was what was wrong with her, her wardrobe had changed to a more comfortable and wide one that did not reveal more than the minimum of skin and the salt of her tears was the only thing that fed her.

She wasn't proud of herself, far from it, but what could you wait for? She was just an eighteen-year-old girl receiving hatred everywhere, although none of those people had a face to look at when she read those insults Arabella could not prevent them from affecting her. And although she was much better now, after talking to Sebastian –who was on a plane on his way to Spain, because unfortunately he hadn’t been able to attend Azerbaijan– as if he were her personal psychologist and spending time with her family, she could not help but tense every time something reminded her of the small trauma she had experienced.

She closed her eyes inhaling and exhaling "I have a good feeling but I don't want to jinx it”.

Her mother's hand curled up on hers, looked up to see her and immediately felt a warmth and security invade her body causing her to relax her tense shoulders. Marisa González smiled sweetly at her daughter "No matter what happens, we will be proud of you, cariño. Okay?”.

She bit her lower lip feeling her eyes begin to sting, she nodded "Okay" Her voice came out more raspy than usual, causing the woman to get up from her seat and approach her daughter to hug her.

"THIS is so awkward" A somewhat drunk Lando looked worriedly at his teammate while he rolled his eyes denying. He pushed his arm when he saw him “Carlos! What do we do? I can't keep this secret that is eating me alive”.

"It's not a secret because we don't know if it's true" He leaned over to take his glass from the small table in front of the sofa on which they were both sitting and drank from it.

He was going to need alcohol to survive the night.

He opened his eyes in an exaggerated and paranoid way “What do you mean, Carlos? Look at them, they look like cats in heat!” He extended both arms towards the dance floor where they could see Arabella dancing with Daniel and Pierre while Charles was next to George at the bar, neither of the two pending the presence of the other to the very opposite of what number 4 had said.

A "Mmh" sounded on the other side and they both quickly turned their heads to see the Dutchman sitting on the other sofa. The McLaren's idiots opened their eyes with surprise when they remembered that the Red Bull driver was with them.

"So, do you think Arabella and Charles are together?" He raised one of his eyebrows, curious because he swore to have seen things among the members of the red team but he had not yet mentioned his suspicions to anyone.

"Don't tell anyone, but yes”.

"It's not that we believe it, it's that we know it" The British raised his index finger to emphasize his words.

"Oh, really? How?” Max moved in his seat, approaching them to try to get information from them because he had decided not to drink that night so he was bored as he watched his friends and co-workers approach the ethyl coma.

The curly-haired one approached him too, looking over his shoulder to prevent unwanted ears from hearing their conversation “Have you seen how they look at each other? Or at least how Charles looks at her? She is more discreet but he is not and clearly that look is not from friends”.

"Mmm" The 33 rubbed his chin before a mischievous smile crept into his lips "Maybe we can make them confess”.

"Ohhhhh" Lando laughed while Carlos pursed his lips.

"I don't know, guys" He denied taking another sip from his glass "We shouldn't get in, I also think they're angry at each other”.

"Yes” Verstappen’s blue eyes moved to the spaniard "I've noticed it too, they're acting weird. They don't talk much”.

Norris let out a moan of protest while patting his thigh “Now that we have something to entertain ourselves, they go and break up”.

"Shut up, shut up!" The eldest of the three exclaimed between his teeth when he saw Pierre and Arabella approaching the VIP zone, the reflections of the lights colliding against the brightness of the girl's skirt almost blinded him "They're coming, they're coming”.

Pierre let go of the girl's hand and dropped with a sigh on the sofa next to Max, who looked at him raising both eyebrows making the Frenchman smile at him unwillingly “God, i’m dead”.

"But we barely have danced, P” The girl who was still standing laughed, Carlos moved making room for her but she denied leaning a hand on his shoulder. She made puppy eyes “Carlitos, you coming to dance with me”.

He shook his head without looking at her because he knew he was going to give in if he kept looking at her “No, no, I'm okay here”.

"Oh, come on!" She complained before taking his hand and began to pull him but it was of little use. Releasing a blow, she sat next to him and took the cup, earning a complaint from him “You are the only one with whom I can sing the songs, this useless frenchie doesn’t know the lyrics”.

"Sorry for not knowing Spanish!" The other exclaimed as he raised both arms "I already know English and Italian and that is more than enough”.

"Hey, what about Daniel?" The Dutchman frowned when he realized that his former teammate was not in the group.

"He found a girl" The girl shrugged her shoulders accepting the glass of the other spaniard when he took a sip and then hand in it to her again.

Immediately everyone let out complaints in unison and she laughed because she knew why. They had decided to ignore the hotels and rent a house all together to be able to stay a couple more days in the country and, well, they were going to have to listen to the australian and his fling all night.

"Can I sleep with you today?" Carlos looked at her horrified because he was the one who had his room next to Ricciardo's, she denied what he opened his mouth in pain "Why not?"

"Because you don't want to dance with me" She was busy arguing with him so she didn't notice when Max collided his knee with Lando's to get his attention, once the boy looked at him he nodded to the girl opening his eyes.

"What?" He asked in a confused whisper to what Max rolled his eyes and Pierre approached them, curious about what was happening.

"Go dance with her so we can make Charles jealous”.

"Why is Charles going to get jealous because Bella dances with Lando?" Pierre looked at them strangely, he was not surprised about a jealous Charles because, obviously, he had also realized the feelings of his friends, what he didn’t understand was why was he going to feel jealous of the little boy of the McLaren team.

A demonic smile was planted on the full lips of the much acclaimed lion “You'll see”.

With his gaze he pointed to the duo that was approaching them and Gasly nodded impatiently to see how the Dutchman's plan unfolded.

"Bells" The voice of the curly haired one came out high and both the 10 and the 33 had to put their hands to their mouths to avoid laughing. The girl looked at him expectantly but smiling, he swallowed saliva feeling nervous suddenly “I can dance with you, if you want”.

She nodded before getting up and extending her hand towards him, who didn't take long to take her between his much larger one and let himself be guided by her to the dance floor. Along the way they met Charles and George, his blueish green eyes collided with the greens of the Monegasque who clearly did not look very happy at the image in front of him. He swallowed again, praying mentally that the elder would not end up beating him up. The girl in front of him kept pulling him, completely ignoring her teammate but not without giving a smile to her other British friend who responded by raising both thumbs.

Fuck he thought when the reggaeton song of which he didn't know how to pronounce its name changed to Reminder by The Weeknd. A wave of screams filled his ears when the first chords filled the nightclub, he watched as the sweaty bodies stuck even more when he heard the song and suddenly he felt that the shirt that decorated his torso was too small for him. He hooked his index finger on the neck to relieve the sensation a little but it didn't work too much.

His eyes went down to the girl in front of him, despite wearing heels she was still shorter than him so he could see the club above her head. He bit the inside of his cheek when they finally found a clear space on the track and turned around to look at him.

She analyzed him from top to bottom before showing him a nice smile "If you want we can go back, Lan. It's okay”.

He immediately denied “No, no, it's fine. Let's dance, that's what we've come for, right?”.

"Okay, but if you feel uncomfortable, tell me" She stood on her tippy toes to reach his ear because Abel Tesfaye's voice was too loud. The boy closed his eyes when he smelled her perfume “Okay?”.

She separated from him, enough so that they could look at each other's face but not so that their bodies would stop being against each other. He nodded speechlessly looking into her eyes and she smiled funny before taking her hands and placing them on her hips to which the boy opened his eyes wide making her throw her head after laughing.

"They are just hips, Lando!"

"Yeah, i know, but... don't blame me" He laughed too.

On the other side of the nightclub, their friends watched them as if they were the best show in the world while Charles felt that he was going about to throw up. He squeezed his grip on the glass that was in his hands without looking away from the young drivers, who now danced very close to each other. It should be him who was there moving his body next to hers, it should be him who had his hands on her hips, it should be him who had his arms around her neck. It should be him and not Lando.

"They would make a good couple" He heard Sainz speak, who was looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

"I thought that if she would date with one of us it would be Max" All the eyes, including Charles's, went to George, who had not realized that he had become the center of attention because he was very distracted on his mission to catch with his straw a gummie that was at the bottom of his glass.

The named one frowned “With me?”.

Pierre moved in his seat offended "Yes, what do you mean with Max?" Why not with me?”.

The Spaniard laughed scratching his leg over the fabric of his jeans “Don't you have a girlfriend?”.

"Shut up, Carlos. This is important” The Frenchman raised his hand trying to block the Spanish's face.

Russell's bulging eyes rose to look at his colleagues “I mean... I don't know, between Max and Bella there is like this strange tension but at the same time they get along well. I guess it will be because they are both so focused about beating Hamilton but I thought they would end up together”.

The green eyes of the number 16 traveled to his childhood rival, his desire to throw up became even stronger when he saw that he was struggling not to let out a smile. He knew that he had liked the British's words and although he couldn’t blame him because, to be honest, they were all young men and she was practically a goddess so he was not too surprised that he was not the only one interested in her.

"Mmmh" Pierre's lips furrowed in agreement. "Yeah, they wouldn't look bad together. It would be kind of enemies on the track to lovers off the track, it would make sense”.

Russell pointed it at him “Right?”.

"But she and Lando have already kissed" After Verstappen's words, everyone looked at him strangely.

Carlos let out a high-pitched squeal “It was you who interrupted them!”.

"Yes" He laughed nodding as he drank from his glass, he moved his gaze towards the boy sitting next to him.

"Well, Landito has a lot of advantage then" Carlos' honey eyes returned to the dance floor causing the others to imitate him. The youngest pair of the group were dancing as close as they could to each other, they were sure that not even a pen could fit between them, Arabella was with her back to him with her arms hanging from his neck while Lando hid her face in her neck and his hands kept a firm grip on the girl's waist.

"Do you think they will fuck tonight?" The dirty blond with a beard smiled like a kid, entertained by the reaction of his best friend but also happy that his friends got some kind of action.

"Looks like it”.

Before Max's words, he squeezed the glass so much that it exploded, attracting the attention of others and even of some people around them. He felt the cold liquid from his cup pierce the fabric of his pants when he released the last piece of glass that he was still holding in his hands. He waved his hand to get rid of the liquid and let Carlos take it to inspect that no crystal had been stuck in his skin.

"Fuck, Leclerc" The one with the raspy voice handed him napkins from the napkin holder that was on the low table in the center of the sofas.

He looked back at the dance floor ignoring how Carlos called a waitress or how Pierre and Max tried to clean the mess by throwing an unnecessary amount of napkins on the floor. Suddenly he was relieved when he saw the dark-haired British boy walking towards the table, with no trace of the brunette next to him.

"What happened?" Lando's disheveled eyebrows came together when he saw his friends trying to clean the floor and Charles soaked from top to bottom.

The monegasque had to look away from the boy when he noticed a mark of lipstick of the same color as the one Arabella wore on his cheek. He got up abruptly releasing a quick "I'm going to the bathroom" before leaving.

He walked through the club as if the devil himself was behind him, he ignored the screams of the people when the song changed and also the looks of the Spanish girls on him in addition to their whispers. Once he reached the hallway where the bathroom was, he let out a sigh, his knuckles had turned white from how hard he was squeezing his fists. He leaned against the wall taking advantage of the fact that the hallway was empty and sighed, bringing a hand to his hair.

Damn the day he met Arabella Torres. Since that day, everything that could have gone wrong was going wrong. He didn't blame her but the damn fate for playing with him that way.

He leaned his head on the wall, looking at the ceiling and thought that it wasn’t as he had expected the night to be. He had gone to the party hoping to be able to talk to her and fix their problems but no, she hadn’t even give a single look to him and that drove him crazy because since their fight and having left him lying in her driver’s room they hadn’t spoken, except for some video that the Ferrari stuff had forced them to record for the YouTube channel and little else. They hadn't even seen each other since the last race, they were supposed to have flown together from Azerbaijan to Barcelona but Arabella had run away to Madrid to celebrate her brother's birthday with her family so it had been almost two weeks since they had last seen each other.

For a moment he wondered what his life would have been like if maybe they were in different teams or if they were normal people and met at a party like this or maybe at college. Everything would have been very different and much easier.

He moved his head following the rhythm of the song without knowing that the lyrics said because it was in spanish and sighed when he heard the door of one of the bathrooms open, he looked down even without separating his head from the wall.

Oh, what a coincidence.

"What happened to your pants?" Arabella was in front of him, looking with a frown at the dark spot that covered much of the fabric that covered his leg.

"My glass exploded" He replied in a hoarse voice because he had not said a word almost all night. He observed her through his long eyelashes, trying to memorize the image in front of him before she ignored him again.

"Ah, good luck cleaning that then" She squeezed her lips and began to turn, ready to get out of there, to run away from him again but he prevented her by grabbing her wrist. She froze in his place, she had missed his touch, she let out a sigh trying to stay calm “Charles, let me go”.

"Why?" A cynical smile stood on his lips "Are you in a hurry to go back to Lando?".

He saw how she tilted her head to the side before she let go of his grip and turned around, he saw how she looked at him confused.

“What does Lando have to do with this?”.

"I've seen how he was kissing your neck and how you danced very close. Too close to be just friends" Everything around Charles was red, as red as the cars they drove or the uniforms they wore on weekends. He was jealous and drunk and didn't think too clearly because they both knew that he wasn't like that. Arabella looked at him strangely, she never seen him that way “What, have you already found my replacement?”.

"What the fuck?" She murmured in spanish. The girl was surprised and as incredible as it may seem, turned on.

"Maybe you can go to McLaren" He bowed his head as his gaze went from her eyes to his lips "But you know that orange will never look as good as red on you”.

She immediately realized that it was a metaphor and wanted to laugh but was too confused to do so. The alcohol in her system next to Charles' perfume wasn't really helpful. She knew that he was playing a game and that if she followed it she could get burned but everyone knew that Arabella Torres was reckless and that she liked danger.

Her confused expression changed, Charles couldn’t describe it but when she began to shorten the distance between them he began to walk backwards, unconsciously entering the women's bathroom, which was empty thank God. He felt his mouth dry when he saw that the girl's hand went to her chest where she began to play with the buttons of the shirt she was wearing “I'm not sure if the red fits me so well” Slow but very slowly she unbuttoned the first buttons revealing a red lace bra. She gathered his eyebrows looking at him with feigned curiosity and in an innocent tone asked him "What do you think?"

He blinked a couple of times before looking up at her. He cursed in French before shortening the distance and smashing his lips against hers. He passed his hand through his neck entangled his fingers between the soft waves of brown hair, closed his fist and pulled her hair forcing her to walk towards the sink. Her ass hit the edge of the marble board making her moan in his mouth because his free hand was squeezing her butt making the Prada's skirt rise and she could feel the cold marble against her skin. The moan in his mouth made him smile, his hands moving from top to bottom through her body caressing her barely covered skin thanks to the open shirt and the short skirt.

Her hands traveled to the boy's neck, one of them taking over the small strands that were born on the back of his neck causing Charles to open his lips but not move them, he stayed in his place watching as she twisted under his touch, the smug smile he had on his lips made her know that he was enjoying it. The tips of his bangs stuck to her skin thanks to the thin space between their foreheads tickling her, which was making her nervous.

Arabella let out a small moan when she felt his right hand go up from her ass to her naked thigh and go through the bottom of her skirt to her underwear. He kissed her again as he pressed with his finger –she wouldn’t know which one– against the fine red lace garment that separated her skin from the contact of his hand.

For a second she thought that she had reached glory when she felt how he was pressing even harder but she fell from the cloud when he separated. She looked at him frowning at what he gave her a smile of apology before asking her with his eyes if she was okay and comfortable with that.

At another time maybe she would have thought it was cute but she was drunk and horny so she could only roll her eyes and take his hand with hers to place it back on her panties “For God's sake, Charles. Just do it”.

This time it was she who joined their lips, ran her fingers through his hair and pressed herself as hard as she could against him while their tongues fought each other. She let herself be embraced by his pleasant smell and the thousand sensations she felt when he was like this with her.

She released her grip on his hair and took her hands along a path from his neck to his chest where she took the shirt in her fists and, in one movement, pulled it breaking the buttons making them fly. He walked away from her when he heard the buttons touch the ground, he looked at them without expression before turning his gaze towards her, raising an eyebrow looking at her between his eyelashes. She bit her lip because, let's be honest, he looked too good looking at her like that from that angle.

"I'll buy you a new one" She went to tell him, but before she opened her mouth, he screwed his hands on the back of her thighs, causing her to let out a small choked scream in surprise when she didn't feel the ground under her feet.

She hissed when the cold of the marble hit the skin of her thighs although she was silent when she felt Charles' hands raise her skirt more to have better access between her legs. The monegasque released the garment when he felt her gaze on him, he looked at her without raising his face, giving a dark touch to his gaze. They watched each other in silence for a few seconds until Charles took his right hand to her jaw and kissed her quickly, separated from her but not enough so that their breaths didn’t mix and took his fingers to her lips.

"Open your mouth" He murmured still holding her gaze, the girl obeyed by letting his fingers pass between her lips meanwhile he looked down at her mouth “Suck”.

He watched with delight as the girl's swollen lips closed around his digits, he felt her tongue playing with them. He looked into her eyes and found that she was already looking at him and almost moaned at that moment.

"Merde, mon ange" He cursed when she let go of his fingers making a pop resonate through the empty bathroom. Shit, my angel.

"Charles..." She said his name in a sigh. He looked at her expectantly with his fingers still touching her lips, the skin of her mouth stained by the red lipstick collided with his finger tips surely staining them too “Charles, please”.

"Please, what?" His voice came out in a murmur but she still heard him and of course she did because the only thing she could hear, feel and smell was him. She was drunk but the alcohol wasn’t what the room had circling around her but him.

She hated Charles Leclerc, she hated the effect he had on her, she hated that even though she was angry with him she felt the stupid need to feel his skin against hers, she hated that they couldn’t be together, she hated that he was playing with her that way, she hated that it made her question every damn aspect of his life. She hated him.

Damn Leclerc and his perfect eyes.

She squeezed her grip on his shirt and kissed the fingers that hadn’t yet separated from her lips before looking at him through her long eyelashes with the most pleading look she could give him "I need you. Please”.

Pathetic, she thought for a moment but the boy's hands rolling up on the fabric that covered her private parts returned her to reality or at least to that bubble in which they had both locked themselves. She rested her hands on the white marble countertop and raised her hips to help him slide the garment down her legs before he made a gap between them and kissed her abruptly.

She felt how the tips of his fingers caressed the inside of her thighs until he reached his destination. She felt how they grazed her folds, covering them with her juices and she groaned in his mouth when she felt him slowly rubbing her clit.

The boy broke the kiss by grabbing her neck when she saw that she made the move of throwing her head back “Was that what you wanted?” His voice was so calm, in contrast to how trembling her breathing was “Did you want my fingers, mmh?”.

"Please" She groaned and he pressed his fingers harder.

She let out a gasp when his fingers slightly touched her entrance, pushed her hips against his hand desperate for his touch, that caused him to laugh. He put one of his fingers inside and a soft moan came out of her, hips moving again to look for some kind of liberation “More” She complained in a murmur under the intense gaze of the boy.

"More?" He smiled and inserted another finger, feeling the walls tighten around his fingers, his hand moving to equalize the movements of her hips, putting in and pulling out his finger being able to hear the wet sounds.

The whining and moans began to get stronger, the nails stuck strongly in the skin of his shoulder on the fabric of his shirt and he moaned at the sensation, looking at her as he fucked her with his fingers.

Arabella thought that not only did his fingers feel incredible, but he also looked so good in front of her and just by looking at him touching her she thought he could send her to the limit. His thumb went up to rub her clit causing her to sink her teeth into her lower lip, the sensation became too intense.

"I'm so c-close" She groaned and he straightened up, crashing his lips in hers, their tongues dancing in a passionate kiss while his fingers pushed into her faster and deeper. The fluids ran through his hand while his thumb applied even more pressure. She felt so overwhelmed that she couldn't even keep up with the kiss, she was too focused on how well her fingers felt inside her.

And just when she began to feel those tickles in her lower belly that she had rarely felt in her life, everything stopped making her open her eyes abruptly. She looked at the boy in front of her confused and moaned when she felt how her disconnected their bodies.

“Charles...”.

His free hand squeezed on the back of her neck, he approached her ear and she heard how he smiled, "You're right, red doesn't look that good on you.

He walked away from her causing a sudden feeling of being cold to cover her body, she frowned when he saw him crouch and take her thong from the floor. With a mocking smile he shook it before storing it in the pocket of his pants “I'll keep this, maybe it will bring me good luck and I beat you in your home race. See you, mon ange”.

He winked at her, causing his dimples to be marked on his face. She looked at him, her eyes shining thanks to the tears of frustration that had accumulated. She clenched her jaw watching how he was leaving the bathroom so calmly. She looked silently for a couple of seconds at the door through which he had disappeared before releasing a scream of rage. She swallowed between quick breaths and closed her eyes, dropping her head against the cold mirror.

"Fucking asshole”.

𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮_𝘁𝟵 added to their story!

A mischievous smile was present Charles' face, who was looking at the photos that Arabella had uploaded. He looked up from his phone when he heard footsteps enter his part of the garage, he saw one of his teammate's engineers approach his car to talk to his own engineers. He ignored him and looked back at the device in his hands, trying to hide his deception when he saw that it wasn't the brunette.

But when a part of the conversation made its way to him he couldn't help but turn his attention to them. He continued looking at the phone and moving his thumb across the screen from time to time to disguise it.

"I recommend that you don't talk to Arabella today" Said the man whose name Charles didn't know. He had seen him several times in the other part of the Ferrari garage but the truth was that he had never paid much attention to Arabella's team. His ears perked up at the girl's name.

“Why?” His engineers were clearly not as interested as Charles as they didn't even give him a second glance and continued inspecting the car.

"Just don't say anything to her unless she talks to you first".

And with that he ran to the other end of the red walls. He frowned and got up from his seat, left the garage belonging to his team and began to walk towards McLaren's, ready to find Carlos because he knew on good authority that the spaniard was the one who kept the paddock's princess' secrets.

He laughed to himself wondering if she had told him what happened in the bathroom at the nightclub last night. He hesitated because she told him everything but he wasn't so sure if she would tell him that.

I'll find it out now, he thought as he saw the spaniard sitting on the ground with several others. He clenched his jaw at the sight of the other part of the McLaren duo but continued his pace towards them anyway.

"Haven't you noticed that she's acting strange?" The Australian's notable nose wrinkled at his own question. He narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah? No, I don't know" Alex raised his head looking at the others confused "I mean, I don't know her as well as you do but there is something different about her".

"Maybe she's just focused on trying to win in her homerace" His best friend shrugged, turning his head to look at the other side of the paddock. He raised both eyebrows when he saw him and was immediately excited "Charles is his teammate, surely he can tell us what is happening to our girl".

He looked down at him, his expression showing very clearly that he had not liked the way he had referred to the spanish woman. Gasly's annoyed smile widened as he separated the green from the blue and shook his head.

"We argued so she doesn't talk to me" He put his hands on both hips and rested his weight on one leg. He looked at Carlos surreptitiously trying to see some kind of expression that would give away that he knew about their relationship but nothing. On the one hand he felt relieved, on the other he felt the need to talk to someone about it but he knew it was too big a risk.

He felt Ricciardo's hand collide with his shoulder and then his contagious laughter filled his ears "Have you never heard the expression "happy woman, happy garage"?.

"What have you done now?".

He looked at Albon, putting a hand to his chest, offended “Why does it have to be me?”.

"She's the one who doesn't talk to you, the one who must have screwed up must have been you" Carlos joined his hands on top of his knees, his eyes focused on some distant point behind Charles' body.

He opened his mouth to complain but the vpice of the protagonist's of the conversation made everyone look in the same direction that Carlos had his eyes on. The girl walked through the paddock alongside a group of cameras and interviewers, answering her questions with her calm even though the press seemed to be about to kill each other to be able to walk near her. As if she were some kind of saint who just by being close to her and breathing her air would cure most horrible symptoms.

Lando broke the silence that had formed between them by speaking for the first time since the monegasque had joined them “They have never fought to interview me.”

"Me neither".

"Neither" Daniel responded and Alex just clicked his tongue.

He curled his lips and then remembered that in the other two races she hadn't done any kind of press. Charles didn't know why but it wasn't like he could ask her either. He watched her walk away and twisted his head, something was happening here.

"POLE position, baby!" Alexandre exclaimed in her ears and she laughed at the man's enthusiasm. As always before getting out of the car, she thanked the team over the radio and took off her helmet followed by her balaclava. She heard the roar of the Mercedes and watched as Hamilton's car parked next to hers, she saw him get out of her and copy her, taking off his helmet and balaclava. He looked at her and smiled at her raising both eyebrows to which she rolled her eyes and started walking away.

“Why are you avoiding me?” The British accent sounded soft and sweet next to her. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye seeing that he had not taken long to get next to her. She tightened her grip on her helmet.

"Because I don't want to see you" She smiled sarcastically still looking ahead. Lewis frowned and quickened his pace to stand in front of her, walking backwards. He observed her face delighting in it when he saw her make a face of frustration when she saw him in front of her "You're going to fall".

A smile planted itself on his plump lips “Aw, you care about me.”

"On the contrary, it would brighten my day" Sarcasm continued decorating her pretty smile.

"I thought me being second was what would make your day" He stopped his pace abruptly, causing her to collide with him, she placed her hands on his hard chest to avoid stepping on him and grunted in annoyance while the british man smiled, clearly enjoying the moment.

As if he were poison, she quickly let go. She looked up to see him, remaining silent for a few seconds because she didn't know they were so close to each other. She blinked before pushing him away, his annoying laughter soon filling her ears “Enjoy the views from the second place.”

The man laughed again watching her walk away from him towards her garage, her car being driven by one of the engineers following her at a considerable speed. He sank her teeth into his bottom lip before raising his voice“I'll do it! Believe me, I will".

She hurried into the garage, clenching her jaw as she saw the monegasque driver giving her a smile as if nothing had happened between them "Congratulations…"

She raised a hand blocking his face and his words before passing by him and heading to the hallway that would take her to her room, ignoring how the red polo shirts were soaked with champagne and how everyone was celebrating the pole position. Upon arrival she dropped the helmet on the ground without giving much importance to the loud noise it made when it hit the ground and threw herself onto the sofa while releasing a sigh. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

"ARABELLA TORRES CROSSES THE STARTING LINE CROWNED AS THE NEW WORLD CHAMPION!"

Despite the roar of the car engine and the cloaks covering her ears she could hear the screams of the audience. She frowned when she saw a sea of red and yellow flags, her team began to take their place on the fence that separated the track from the pedestrian zone, she saw how they shouted with smiles on their faces and how they waved their flag in the air and then she knew.

She had won.

She had won the last race of the season and just like that the fucking title of world champion was hers.

She laughed madly, raising her arm above the halo in celebration. She pressed the button on the radio and incredulously asked "Have I won?".

"YOU'RE WORLD CHAMPION, BABY!—She heard Susie's scream, behind the blonde's voice she could hear the others celebrating the victory. Her smile widened even more making her cheeks start to hurt. Wolff wiped her own tears and picked up the microphone, bringing it to her lips. "You've won, Arabella. You've done".

Her lips trembled but the smile didn't fade, her throat went dry and for a moment she saw blurred "Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you so much to all of you, guys."

Come on, get out of the car so we can celebrate" This time it was Toto's voice that rang through her ears, he nodded and followed the few meters of road until she reached the sign with the number one. She parked in it and sighed before getting up from her seat and raising both arms in victory.

She got out of the car feeling tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She took off her helmet and balaclava before kneeling on the ground right in front of the car, clasping her hands together and resting them against the nose of the black car and then resting her forehead on her hands, as if she were praying to the machine. She lowered her head until her forehead was almost touching the floor and, finally, she cried. She let out a sob so hard her chest hurt, and she grabbed the fabric of the chest of her suit tightly.

"Arabella, Arabella, Arabella!" For a moment she heard nothing but the audience chanting her name.

She sobbed again, raising her head, looking around around. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. Was that really happening? She looked at the camera in front of her and with her hand on rop of her heart chehe vocalized several "Thank you" non-stop.

Suddenly she heard a loud bang and immediately afterward the screams of people, she looked at her hands and frowned when she saw that they were illuminated by an orange light.

She raised her head slowly seeing how her car was on fire, she moved her gaze to the right finding the red car embedded in the side of hers. She watched in horror as Charles's lifeless eyes looked back at her.

“Arabella, Arabella, Arabella!” The crowd's cries grew even louder and she willed them to shut up. She got up to run towards Charles but it was too late, neither he nor both cars nor even the circuit were there.

“Arabella, wake up” Some light pushes drew her to reality, with a gasp she opened her eyes, meeting Sebastian's face.

She smiled when she saw him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She heard his laugh and felt how he gave a kiss on her hair before caressing it.

"I'm here, siéger” He whispered into her ear, his voice immediately bringing him peace. She sighed against his shoulder “I'm here.” Champion.

"God, I've missed you so much" She murmured against his jacket, she hid her face even more in his neck, feeling the man's hand go up and down her back.

“Me too, siéger” He patted her on the back a couple of times and began to let her go. He looked at her with a frown “Were you having a nightmare?”

“Yeah, but…wait” Her gaze ran to rest on the clock on the wall right next to the television. She opened her eyes in surprise before looking at the man kneeling in front of her "Is it Sunday already?".

Vettel nodded “Yes, you've been sleeping here since qualifying. It's been a long nap”.

She put her head in her hands, hiding her face in them, and let out a sigh “I didn't sleep much yesterday.”

“How much?”.

She denied, remembering that when she arrived at the villa that the boys had rented she couldn't sleep but instead stayed tossing and turning in bed all night without stopping thinking about the race and how frustrated the green-eyed boy had left her. Plus Carlos's unconscious body trying to hug her every chance she got didn't help her much “An hour”.

“Fuck, siéger” He let out an incredulous laugh “And yet you qualified on pole, incredible”.

She shrugged as if it was nothing. She turned her neck to both sides grimacing when she heard the bones creak and got up from the couch being followed by the german, who stepped forward to open the door for her.

They walked among the paddock, heading to the common cafeteria so the girl could have breakfast. They both ignored the surprised looks at seeing the former champion walk and chat so calmly next to the driver, since it was not public knowledge that she and Sebastian Vettel had known each other and had maintained a friendship since she was a child. She licked her lips watching the cameras not far from them, she knew that at any moment people were going to find out so she tried not to give it much importance while the dark blonde, on the other hand, looked a little worried.

Sebastian knew that the girl didn’t want the public to know about her friendship, either the one she had with him or with the Schumachers, since the public would quickly question all of her achievements in her career. Both Sebastian and Mick understood and agreed with her, they knew Michael would agree too. And that's how it had been since they met, distancing herself from the Schumacher’s son while they were in public when they met at a race even though they both wanted to talk or simply enjoy each other's company, not being able to go to Sebastian's races to support him or couldn't even talk about how the germans had become fundamental supports in her life since she met them at the tender age of eleven.

That's why he couldn't help but be surprised when he accepted her call and heard her invite him to the next race. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, he knew that she had had a bad time and he was worried about her, after all for him, she was like his eldest daughter. Not for nothing did his first-born daughter bear her name.

Once seated in the cafeteria, they were accompanied by the girl's manager and her publicist, who after waiting for her to have breakfast, dragged her away because she had to do some interviews.

“Don't you notice something strange on her?” Nicholas took a bite of his croissant, both men watching the two women walk away at a hasty pace.

“There is something in her gaze” He responded, nodding “Something that I don't know if I like”.

He had noticed it and it had not been difficult for him to recognize that shine in her eyes. He more than anyone could know it, because a while ago he also had that shine in his own eyes.

[acesofspadess]

Meet AG5

a/n: i got a request that I keep up with Ace as a driver so here is a little background:

How Ace is with the other drivers (including, Franco, Ollie, and Liam, Fred, Christian, and ToTo)

Charles: Ace and Charles are the closest on the grid by far. They grew up together -more like Ace following Charles and then Max around- and will forever be each others biggest supporters. Not even Max has anything on the Charles and Ace relationship.

Carlos: Ace and Carlos actually didn’t get along at first. Carlos and Ace almost took each other out in her first races and along with Lando falling for her while getting over Carlos moving to Ferrari he went into protective mode. It wasn’t until Ace and Lando joined him on the Singapore podium and Ace praised Carlos for his drive that they spoke in a less threatening manner. They quickly turned the best of friends and the trio is always seen with each other. He was also the first one to know about Ace and Lando.

Fred: They’re relationship is very much drunk uncle coded. It’s no surprise Fred wants Ace to join Ferrari. Every podium and/or win Fred is there spraying champagne on her. He sends her Ferrari merch every new collection they have as an on going joke.

Checo: Ace and Checo get along quite well. She was a RedBull Test and Reserve driver before she signed with McLaren. She drove Checo’s car more than she did Max’s so they bonded over how the car performed. They don’t talk much outside of the track, but his kids love her.

Max: Max and Ace are best friends, if you see them together, they’re most likely laughing or telling someone off. These two in a conference together??? Pray for the interviewer because if Ace learned anything from her time at RedBull it was Max’s attitude. This season has definitely strained their relationship. Despite Lando and Max fighting for the championship, Max has admitted that Ace is his biggest threat. 

“Question for Max and Lando,” someone asked in the Singapore post-race conference. “With Ace coming off a win, and in 3rd place for the Drivers Championships, are either of you worried that she is also in the fight?”

“...I agree with Lando.” Max said, “I think Ace is a fabulous driver, and yes, the points between her and Lando are closer than me and Lando, and while it would be very hard for her to join the fight, it’s racing, and if she keeps winning when we cannot, then yeah it’s nerve-wracking. She becomes a big threat to not just Lando but to me as well. You can’t tell who your fighting when points are this close.”

Christian: This was one is tough. They used to get on great, but There were some comments made when Ace went to Mclaren that rubbed her the wrong way. ‘She should have stayed here as a Reserve driver with the way their season is going compared to ours but… she made her decisions and she’s got a seat, not much can be said after that.”

Lewis: Ace and Lewis bonded instantaneously. Everything came easy to their friendship, whether it was fashion, racing, lifestyle, or flying together everything was fun with them. But on the not so ponies and rainbows side of life, Lewis was the only person she could talk to about the racist comments. He walked her through it all, even representing her on his own helmet at one point in her first season. Lewis was as much her big brother as Charles. They definitely had many laughs when Lewis announced he was going to Ferrari. “Fred couldn’t have you so he signed me.” He would tell her.

George: Ace and George don’t talk as much as you would think. Yes they talk because of Lando and Lewis, and they are friends, but they realy just haven’t had the ‘out-of-track’ friendship that was as strong as the others. When things get controversial on track between one of them, the other is backing them up in their own interviews, by coincidence or not.

Toto: Toto is like a much calmer Fred. He see’s her alot because of Lewis and is genuinely just proud to see a woman on the grid. Susie is definitely behind alot of their interactions, not that Toto knows Ace knows that.

Daniel: Daniel and Ace are never up to any good, EVER. Those two in the same room?? Everyone is laughing and crying. They simply bring out the laughter and sunshine out of each other with no care for anything else in the world. There was never any bad blood from them even if Ace had essentially stollen his seat. Ace made an entire post for him when it was announced Singapore was his last race. Her and Lando sat with him for around an hour after that race. They also did a helmet swap and Ace has it displayed with her and Landos in their Monaco apartment.

Pierre: Pierre, Ace, and Charles. That’s it. That sums up their friendship. These two are the first to share gossip with each other, which ends up with them screaming at each other in French (excitedly)… everytime. Much to the dismay of the FIA.

In relation to everyone else on the grid, it’s more of a work friendship. She gets on well with everyone and everyone seems to love her.

Extras:

Ollie, Kimi, Franco, and Liam: Her friendship with Ollie was almost like having a son. Him and Kimi would always come find her when F2 was racing with them. Ace and Lando were the first ones to reach out to Franco when his seat was announced. He has openly said that they were his favourite drivers and it just made her feel nice that someone came in after her, and looked up to her. She doesn’t have much of a connection with Liam yet, as he’s only been in one official race weekend so far, but she definitely keeps an eye out for him whether he knows it or not.

if you want to be tagged/ keep up with Ace comment to join the Ace specific taglist!

[papaya-queen]

Teenage Dirtbag babyy !! - F2/3/F1 academy grid

my first smau - please be kind I’m new with the tools

Y/N x Paul Aron - Ollie Bearman x Andrea Kimi Antonelli - Abbi Pulling x Doriane Pin

<3

Later - 3 am

Yourusername

Yourusername I’m just a teenage dirtbag babyyy

tagged : paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, racerbia and 6 others

User1 young drivers on social media are a blessing

User2 WAIT IS THAT OLLIE AND KIMI ?!!

            User3 AND DORIANE AND ABBI ?!!

maxverstappen1 stop posting on social media and answer our calls

User4 oh to be a part of that friend group …

<3

Racerbia

Racerbia never let Y/N plan the hangout

tagged : yourusername, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, paularon_ and 6 others

Yourusername hey !!! It was amazing !

User6 AFTER BEARNELLI AND PINING WE GOT PAULY/N ?!!!

Arvid.lindblad actually the best hangout of my life

            Yourusername finally who someone likes my hangout plan

            Landonorris wait until tomorrow morning

<3

The next day

Sunlight was already picking through the curtains when Y/N woke up. Her head was hurting, like someone was hitting it from inside. She tried to get herself up, but some weight was keeping her pinned against the mattress. She turned her head and saw a blond head she knew too well. Sure, her and Paul were big on physical touch but sleeping like this never happened. She carefully shifted to see the room without letting go of Paul’s embrace.

Y/N observed the room and the people in it. She could recognize Kimi and Ollie on the couch opposed to her, the older spooning the other. She had a moment of confusion, but she knew Kimi and Ollie had always been big on PDA even as friends. She kept looking around, checking if all her friends did make it back to the apartment. Arvid, Dino, Maya and Bianca were all sleeping on the floor with some blanket resting on them. And on the armchair, you could find Abbi and Doriane literally glued to each other, managing to fit in the tight chair. Y/N tried to get up to go eat something but all the moving and shifting in Paul’s arm woke him up.

“Hi princess!” he said with the sleepiest voice ever.

“Hi baby!” she responded, hugging him tighter.

Then she got up, after spending a few minutes convincing Paul to let her go. Y/N walked to the kitchen, open the door and faced Charles, Max, Oscar and Lewis. She brutally closed the door before reopening it. “Good morning, everybody!”

“Good afternoon actually!” Charles pointing the clock on the wall. He was right, it was indeed way past noon. 3pm actually.

“So, what’s the reason for the visit?” said Y/N trying to act cool in front of her 4 grid-dad.

“Humm…You don’t remember last night, do you?” Oscar asked.

“Euuh no …?” She responded.

“Well, we have a little explanation to do when everyone wakes up” Oscar sighed.

Max stood up and entered the living room to shout, “EVERYONE WAKES UP NOW!” The mass of teen made a groaning sound, some of them complaining about their head. There was also some confusion like Abbi and Dorianne who were looking at each other, not understanding the how and why they were like this. Same for Kimi and Ollie. After a couple minutes, the other older driver entered the room and told everyone to sit and listen to them.

“You kids are fucking mental; you should definitely know that! Before we start scolding each of you, do you actually remember what happened yesterday?” Charles was endorsing his role as the principal grid-dad of those kids.

“I remember that we met up here, we drank maybe one or two beers then we went to the bar.” said Kimi, rubbing his eyes.

“Yes, and Y/N picked up a worksite cone and put it on her head.” Gaby completed.

“I remember something about Ollie and Kimi, and Abbi and Dorianne, like they kissed or something like that” Arvid said earning some weird looks from the four.

Bianca finished their story and added “I remember Y/N got stuck on a tree, we called Oscar to help but Paul got her back before he arrived.”

“Well we have a base to work on” Max said pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s actually not that bad, I thought they would black out like completely.” said Lewis.

“So kids, you all got wasted at the bar and started doing random shit, like sitting on rooftops, stealing shopping carts, scooters and you also did some private things, you should check your insta especially Bianca and Y/N” Charles resumed the whole night and let all the teens check on their insta and realized all the things they did while he decided with the others grid-dads to post something to try to peace the situation.

<3

Charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 2 others

Charles_leclerc why did we have to adopt that many teens?

Tagged yourusername, paularon_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli and 7 others

Olliebearman  we’re sorry dad 😖🥺

            Yourusername speak for yourself

User8 the dads regretting their choice 🤣😭

Paularon_ it hurts but it was amazing

User7 The Bearnelli and PaulY/N pic 🥹

Dinobeganovic_ never let me have alcohol ever again

            Maya_weug same

            Gabrieleminiofficial same

____

well that's it ! I'm kinda proud of this, i hope you're gonna love this as much as me ! byye :)

[angsthology]

𖤓 intro to camellia ayudisha (ft. the commentary by yours truly)

-> series masterlist

Camellia, oh, Camellia.

She is as pretty as her namesake and as delicate as its petals.

If Jupiter was a hail-storm disrupting one’s lives (the so-called journalists are very dramatic, they should try writing a screenplay instead), Camellia was the gentle breeze in the early morning greeting your skin. If Jupiter has the sky and storm in her control, Camellia was the wind god that has control over whether or not your hair is going to stick to your lip gloss.

Not everyone can understand her beauty but anyone who does has been blessed with the right retinas.

Her presence is one that people debate whether she should be driving at all when she feels like royalty (and let’s be honest, a passenger princess), someone in deserving to the throne under that crown.

She is the person you think of when you hear the phrase ‘pretty girl’. Fitting to her name, she looked like she was hand-picked in the prettiest flower field; sweet dark chocolate-colored eyes under her long lashes (everyone, me included, very jealous of those) — her dark, once black hair turned brown from her continuous sun exposure (especially the one that is in her hometown), her skin that warm-toned tan color. And you could never miss her delicate face, cheekbones high and visible on her round face—(something everyone goes crazy for? Post-race glistens where all of her light makeup is either gone or has become one with her skin giving her face that glow).

When people throw around the term ‘Grid Princess’ it only truly sticks to her and only truly serious with her.

Everyone knows the story, the ‘myth’ of Camellia Ayudisha; had her father not meet her mother, had he not marry her, had he not created Camellia, she would be a princess—well, she’d also be nonexistent but if she did exist—she does, but under different circumstances—she would be.

You get what I mean.

She is how one might say… perfect.

The perfect role model, perfect ‘intro’ of sorts, the perfect woman.

She was, the firs and foremost of ‘her kind’, she set the path for women in motorsports, and there was no one better to do it than her. She is perfect.

Perfect Camellia is the media angel, perfect Camellia would never go against the rules, perfect Camellia would never out-do her teammate in equal machinery. (well, she still did.)

The perfect male fantasy as to what a female Formula One driver should be.

Well, she was perfect to them. For the first three years of her career, she was as well-behaved as everyone expected her to be, she didn’t fail anyone’s expectations. The perfect fantasy.

“WHAT IS THIS? Camellia Ayudisha’s Toro Rosso has overtaken Nico Rosberg in the Mercedes! If she keeps this up for a few more seconds she will be making history as the first ever woman to win a Formula One Grand Prix… Oh my Goodness! SHE CROSSES THE FINISH LINE! THE CHECKERED FLAG HAS WAVED FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS WEEKEND! CAMELLIA AYUDISHA HAS WON THE TWO-THOUSAND-SIXTEEN JAPANESE GRAND PRIX!” the commentator yells into his mic, cheers following in the background at what just happened.

The crowd was loud with their gasps and cheers, even those who weren’t her supporters managed to had the jaws slack.

Her radio was much worse,

“THAT IS P1! MEL, YOU JUST WON A GRAND PRIX! YOU’RE THE FIRST WOMAN IN HISTORY TO WIN A GRAND PRIX! CONGRATULATIONS! P1 oh I can’t take this, take it in Mel… you’ve just made history.” Her engineer and entire team celebrated in her ears, prompting tears to form in her eyes.

When they heard her voice again, her emotions were contagious, “Demi apa… Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God… I did that…” her voice giving away her tears. “I can’t believe it…”

“Oh, you best believe it, this is your day! A day for women and girls everywhere, we all thank you.”

“Okay, Ray, I mean this in the nicest way possible… please shut up.”

And when they thought she was done talking to cry by herself, they were wrong.

“THIS IS FOR YOU MALIQ!” she cried into the radio, saying the words with her Indonesian accent heavy on her tongue.

They’ve just witnessed history live in front of their eyes.

Then there are the luckiest interviewers to have been blessed to get her first few words minutes by the history-maker herself.

Right after she was done getting weighed, Camellia walked over to her post-race interview. Her mouth in a permanent smile, one might mistake her for having just inhaled glue with her entire face.

“Look at you!” the interviewer greeted happily, “You’re glowing!”

She laughed lightly, “First time I’m hearing that. Thankfully not in a different circumstance…” her comment making the reporter and herself crack another laugh.

“No, seriously, you’re beautiful!” she can only smile at the compliment, “I guess winning does that to one, huh?”

She chuckled again, “I guess so…”

All-the-while she didn’t realize the visible tears that had ran down her cheeks, the tears that were still running down.

“Are you crying?” he asked with a light-hearted laugh.

When it came to her attention, Camellia immediately wiped it away and looked at the tear on her knuckle, “I can’t stop it, I swear…” she replied with the same light-hearted laugh.

“You just made history! I wouldn’t be able to stop crying too if I were you!”

It was known from then on, Camellia was not afraid to show emotion, her vulnerability. She took it all with great pride.

Many says she was ‘weak’ but more stated that she was unafraid, she was fearless.

“Wow, look at that, only nineteen-years-old and had just marked her spot in history by winning her first Grand Prix.” The commentator narrated as the dark-haired girl was seen walking towards the podium with the 1st cap in one hand and the other pushing her hair back.

“Even the way she walks, just look at her! So elegant.” As she stepped on the top podium, teeth shining with her smile. So sweet, so beautiful.

“Now let’s hear it for the Indonesian national anthem.”

The smile on her face was the smile no one has seen before — which was saying a lot cause Camellia smiles for ninety percent of her life.

As her anthem plays, she removes her winner’s crown only for it to be replaced with the sun as if she wore a halo as her crown.

To the world, she could’ve done no wrong.

Until,

Ugh, until…

Jupiter Nightshade once again ‘ruined something that was once great’. — the media claimed.

Maybe there was always a flame inside of Camellia that the world had yet to see before ever in her Formula One career, a flame that was only set the season she met the rookie in Renault.

When the rookie won the driver’s championship in a Renault—it triggered something in her.

A rookie… had won… a championship before her. —In a Renault of all things! The first Renault driver with a championship since 2006! That was three histories she made in her first year.

In the early days of 2019, after months-long silence from the driver and her team, emotions and tension bubbled over the internet over their radio silence.

Until eventually, it broke out:

BREAKING: Camellia Ayudisha to leave Red Bull.

BREAKING: Camellia Ayudisha to join Mercedes in 2019.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

The reactions to her move grew opinions from the internet.

One spoke, ‘I need to lie down.’ (me too, and I did kinda) — another yelled, ‘her and Lewis as teammates… SIR LEWIS HAMILTON AND THE PRINCESS, I won.’ (they do look beautiful together, who doesn’t love colonizer and colonizee royals as teammates) — unfortunately another man spat; ‘who does she think she is? Red Bull quite literally boosted her career.’ (she is Camellia and she did everything she has achieved herself, thank you very much and shut the fuck up.) — but when a man speaks (again, unfortunately) another person (as delusionally great they are) says; ‘CAMELLIA AYUDISHA 2019 WDC!’ (I like the spirit and enthusiasm, keep it up, you’re going to need it.) — ‘damn, no more Indonesian colonial times teammates [broken heart emoji]’ (I mean, well. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say to that.) — and you obviously cannot forget the ones who is always going to be there for her; ‘I’m glad she left, I did not like the way they treated her there. To hell with that rocket ship, as long as she’s happy and okay that’s all I’m going to need for now.’ (she appreciates that a lot).

I mean, it’s not like any of that will matter, Camellia was known to be chronically offline. A grass-toucher, if you will. But by her profession, you could say gravel-toucher… enough.

Her name eventually became the equivalent to ‘surprise’. ‘Cause somehow, just somehow… she shocked the world again the time 2021 came around.

BREAKING: Audi to join Formula One for the 2021 season.

Carlos Sainz Jr. to drive alongside Camellia Ayudisha in Audi for the 2021 season.

The Royalty, the Flower, L’Angelo; Dewa Ayu Camellia Anisha Primaningtyas.

not proofread | taglist; @disneyprincemuke @eugene-emt-roe @nikfigueiredo @treehouse-mouse @sadieurlady @trouble-sistar @almostjollypizza + ask to be added (crossed out means i cant tag you)

[sweetteainthesummerx]

THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (6)

In which some fans speculate on a post...

series masterlist

Notes: hey ya'll! This is just getting started for real. I just realized that this is going to be so long :p so leave a comment (love those they raise me from the dead) and if you want any specific trope let me know!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

aubreyyang posted

aubreyyang I cannot believe that Pelt has won the Best Screenplay for London Film week. Thank you to everyone who made this film possible (on a budget) and especially for all of the women out there who have experienced the trials and tribulations of simply being. I hope that someday a young girl will stumble across this and feel comfortable in their skin, or their pelt. Thank you again, London Film Week! You were unforgettable 🎥

tagged: londonfilmweek, dior.n.goodjohn

liked by walker.scobell, londonfilmweek and 900,782 others

dior.n.goodjohn YEAH BABYY NEXT TIME WE WIN BEST FILM 😤

user1 im crying they deserve everything the film slapped so hard

-- user2 i can't believe they didn't win best film

-- user3 summed up girlhood for me bro

aubreyyboo WOOO THATS OUR GIRL (shes so real for the budget comment 😅)

oliviarodgrigo QUEEN NEXT FILM LET ME WRITE THE SOUNDTRACK 😩🙏🏼

-- aubreyyang PLEASE PLEASE

-- user3 omg collab??

olliebearman congrats the film was phenomenal

-- aubreyyang thanks ollie!! good luck tomorrow 💪

-- dior.n.goodjohn ayo she giggling and kicking her feet

this comment was removed

-- smoothoperatorrr55 HEY I SAW THAT

-- dior.n.goodjohn paddock passes when?

-- user4 HAHAH not her leaving a incriminating comment then asking for paddock passes I LOVE HER

-- olliebearman ill see what I can do

-- aubreyyang no haha dw about shes joking

-- olliebearman Ferrari would love to have you there!

user5 ARE WE GOING TO IGNORE THIS

olliebearman posted

olliebearman P1 and P2! Two reds on the podium this race. Congrats to @charlesleclerc.

charlesleclerc I won P1 but it looks like u won

-- olliebearman ?? I don't know what your talking about

-- alexandrasaintmleux don't worry his ears are clogged with champagne right babe

-- charlesleclerc 😏

-- user1 WHAT IS HAPPENING

aubreyyang woohoo 🏆 (I still have no clue how f1 works)

-- user2 shes so relatable girly pop womanhood just a girl core

-- olliebearman will draw u a diagram and explain later ☺️

-- user3 THIS IS NOT A DRILL THIS IS NOT A DRILL

landonorris congrats ollie I was not aware of your game

-- olliebearman 😅

-- user4 THIS IS SO CRYPTIC WHAT

smoothoperatorrr5 ARE WE IGNORING THIS BLATANT FLIRTING

aubreyyang posted on their story

caption: 🍝

macecoronel replied to your story

babe I miss you

aubreyyang

dude. no.

macecoronel

please can we talk

aubreyyang

why don't u talk to ur costar WHO YOU CHEATED ON ME WITH

olliebearman replied to your story

Aubrey you just exposed me please send the Ferrari nutrition team a strongly worded email that ITS JUST GRAPE JUICE

aubreyyang

you're across from me just speak??

olliebearman

ive been muted by your beauty

aubreyyang

you're so cheesy 😭

dior.n.goodjohn posted on their story

caption: celebrating w the girls

tagged: lilymhe, aubreyyang, alexandrasaintmleux

f1wags posted

f1wags NEWS! Aubrey Yang and Dior Goodjohn were seen with Lily Muni He and Alexandra Saint Mleux today in the paddocks at the Silverstone Circuit.

liked by lilymhe, f1wagsupdatenews and 9,700 others

view all comments

user1 NO WAY AGAIN??? PLS?? AFTER HER STORY TOO WITH THE MAN IN THE BG HER AND OLLIE HAVE TO BE TGTHER

-- smoothoperatorrr55 justice for me 😩😔 IVE BEEN SAYING

user2 I WAS THERE I SAW HER

-- user1 AJWORJ

-- user 2 she was literally so nice I got a picture with her and dior and she asked us if we were enjoying the race

-- user3 SHES SUCH A CUTIE now ik why they call her Hollywood's sweetheart

-- user2 ikr and then I saw her later with ollie Charles and Alex while they were leaving

-- smoothoperatorrr55 WHAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT

f1wagupdatenews posted

clip one: the video is filmed on an iPhone, the camera is grainy and blurry. The flash isn't on, and the only source of light is the coloured leds of a popular club in London. The camera pans to the dj platform, where Lando Norris is passionately mixing a pop song. Lily Muni He and Dior Goodjohn, only recognizable by their outfits posted earlier on Dior's story are dancing. Then, the camera shifts over to the bar nearby. Charles Leclerc and his girlfriend are next to each other, celebrating his P1 win. Next to them, Ollie Bearman is leaning against the bar, wearing slacks and a white polo, the first two buttons popped open. Beside him is Aubrey Yang, facing the opposite direction. She's wearing a short black minidress and thin black heels. She gathers her hair away from her neck as he speaks. He's explaining something to her, waving his arms and hands around. She watches his with amusement - or is it adoration? The video cuts.

clip two: this video captures Aubrey and Ollie at nearly the same angle, but this time they're both facing the camera while Charles and Alex have their backs to it. The older couple slightly obstructs the view, but it is evident that Ollie has his arm slung across the bar behind where Aubrey is standing, and she's leaning into him as she converses with Alex.

f1wagupdatenews Ollie Bearman seen celebrating this weekend after the Silverstone circuit with Actress and director Aubrey Yang. Could a new wag be entering the paddock? 👀

user1 PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

user2 hes sm better than that mace dude THEIR SO CURTEEE

-- olliebearjeart GUYS MY SISTER WAS THERE WITH HER BF and she told me that they arrived later than everyone else (I think the guy in Aubreys story really is him) and they were together the whole night

-- user1 im actually praying

f1vroom88 didn't they both just get out of longterm relationships

-- user3 like half a year ago people are allowed to move on 🙄

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[theonottsbxtch]

TEACHERS PET PT.3 | CL16

an: did someone say his pov? i apologise in advance for how this ends. also im trying to pump out as much content as i can before i start my real girl job at the start of novemeber

wc: 4.5

warnings: MUCHO infidelity

part one | part two |

Charles gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly as he pulled into the parking garage beneath his apartment building. His mind was racing, filled with images he shouldn’t be indulging in, and yet, he couldn’t seem to push them away. The moment outside her apartment—the way she’d looked at him, the way she’d let him kiss her—had been playing on a loop ever since he’d driven off.

He parked the car and sat there for a moment, staring at the concrete wall in front of him, trying to gather himself. He shouldn't have kissed her. He knew that. But the attraction had been building for weeks, simmering beneath the surface in every glance, every stolen moment, every excuse he found to keep her after class.

He could still feel the heat of her body against his, the softness of her lips, the way she’d kissed him back like she’d wanted it as much as he had. But she had a boyfriend. And he was her professor.

This is wrong.

The thought echoed in his head, but it felt distant, as though it was someone else’s voice whispering it to him. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to shake the memory of her lips, the warmth of her breath against his neck, but it was no use. Even as he walked up the stairs to his apartment, he could still see her standing there in the streetlight, her chest rising and falling with the same breathless anticipation he’d felt.

He unlocked his door and stepped inside, the silence of his apartment suddenly oppressive. The dim lighting and sleek, modern décor felt cold compared to the heat still pulsing through him. He tossed his keys onto the counter, trying to focus on anything but her, but his mind betrayed him almost immediately.

He imagined her here. Walking around his place, barefoot and wrapped in nothing but one of his shirts, the fabric brushing her thighs. He pictured her wandering to his kitchen, her hair mussed from sleep, a sleepy smile on her lips as she padded toward him. Maybe she'd laugh softly as she caught him staring, her eyes playful, like she knew exactly what kind of power she had over him. And for a minute he felt jealous of her silly little boyfriend who probably got to see that sight often.

Damn it.

He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to push the fantasy away. It was dangerous to let himself think of her like that, but the image wouldn’t leave him. She was so young, so off-limits, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself.

He sank down onto the couch, staring blankly at the dark screen of his TV. The room felt too quiet, too empty, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to shake this feeling alone tonight. He needed a distraction. Something to get her out of his head, even if only for a few hours.

His hand instinctively reached for his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, stopping on a name he hadn’t seen in a while: Olivia. They had a history—nothing serious, but comfortable. She was someone he could call when he needed to forget, when he needed to lose himself in something physical, without the complications of attachment.

His finger hovered over the screen for a moment, hesitating. He shouldn’t call her. He knew that. It wouldn’t solve anything. But right now, it felt like the only way to stop thinking about the one person he shouldn’t be thinking about at all.

He tapped the screen, bringing the phone to his ear. It rang twice before Olivia answered, her voice warm and familiar.

"Well, well," she said with a teasing lilt. "It’s been a while. What’s the occasion?"

"I was thinking about you," he lied, his voice low and smooth, trying to push down the guilt gnawing at him. "Are you free tonight?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a soft laugh. "You’re lucky I don’t have plans. I’ll be over in twenty."

He hung up, tossing the phone onto the coffee table as he leaned back against the couch, trying to force himself to relax. But as the minutes ticked by, all he could think about was her. The student. The girl who had walked into his office that first day with a shy smile, who now occupied far too much of his thoughts. He could see her face so clearly, her lips parted as he leaned in to kiss her, the way her body had instinctively pressed against his.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts. A twisted part of him hoped it was her. It was a message from Olivia: "Almost there."

He stood up, running his hands through his hair as he tried to shake off the images swirling in his head. This wasn’t about her. Tonight was about forgetting. About getting some distance from whatever had ignited between him and his student.

When Olivia knocked on the door, he opened it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She stepped inside, giving him a once-over with an approving smirk before leaning in to kiss him. It was familiar, comfortable. But the moment her lips touched his, all he could think about was how different it felt. How wrong it felt.

They moved to the couch, her hands on his chest, her lips trailing down his neck, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Even as Olivia’s fingers slid beneath the hem of his shirt, he couldn’t stop picturing her.

What would she be like here, in his apartment?

He imagined her standing in his bedroom doorway, her eyes heavy with the same desire he’d seen in them earlier tonight. He pictured the way she’d blush as he undressed her, the way her breath would hitch as his hands found her bare skin. The thought made his pulse quicken, heat pooling low in his stomach.

"Uhm, Charles hello? Are you even here" Olivia’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he blinked, realising he hadn’t responded to her in at least a minute.

"Yeah, sorry," he muttered, but even as he said it, his thoughts drifted back to the wrong person.

Olivia pushed him until the back of his knees his the sofa and she straddled him, shifting on his lap, her hands moving more insistently, but it wasn’t enough. None of this was enough to drown out the fire burning in him for someone else. He kissed Olivia, trying to lose himself in the moment, trying to block out the guilt. But as his lips moved against hers, all he could think about was how much he wished it was someone else.

Her lips. Her skin. Her breath.

No matter what he did, she was there in the back of his mind, haunting him, tempting him. And as Olivia’s hands roamed over his body, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if they were her hands instead. How she’d gasp at his touch, how her body would respond to him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to silence the thoughts, but they only grew louder.

Eventually, Olivia pulled back, her brow furrowed as she studied his face. "Okay, what’s going on?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation. "You’re not really here, are you?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice thick with frustration—frustration at himself, at the situation. "It’s just...been a long day."

Olivia huffed, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. She stood, grabbing her jacket from the chair and slinging it over her shoulder. "Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but if you’re not into this tonight, just say so. I didn’t drive all this fucking way for you to act like this"

He stood up, guilt settling heavily in his chest. "It’s not you," he said, trying to smooth things over, but she waved him off.

"Yeah, I know it’s not me," she said sharply. "Whatever’s going on in your head, you need to figure it out."

Without another word, she turned and left, the door closing behind her with a loud slam.

He stood there in the silence of his apartment, the weight of his thoughts crashing back over him like a tidal wave. His mind immediately returned to her—his student. The one person he shouldn’t be thinking about, shouldn’t be wanting.

But he did.

And as he sank back onto the couch, staring at the empty space where Olivia had been, he knew that nothing was going to make this go away.

-

Charles sat behind his desk, trying to focus on the stack of papers in front of him. The morning sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over his office, but he barely noticed. His mind was still a mess from the night before, from thoughts of her. He hadn’t been able to shake the memory of their kiss or the way his body had betrayed him, craving her even as he tried to distance himself. Even calling Olivia hadn’t worked; it had only made everything worse.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned back in his chair. It had only been a few hours since he’d been in the office, but she was still there, in the back of his mind, haunting him. Every time he tried to focus on work, her face appeared, her lips parted slightly, her eyes dark and teasing.

He needed to get a grip. This was crossing lines—lines he shouldn’t even be near. She was a student. She had a boyfriend. But the thought of her in his office again made his pulse quicken in a way that was becoming all too familiar.

A soft knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat, straightening in his chair. "Come in."

The door creaked open, and there she was—her. Standing in the doorway with that familiar mix of confidence and shyness that always threw him off balance. She was dressed in a simple blouse and skirt, but somehow, it felt different now. Everything about her felt different now.

"Professor Leclerc," she said, her voice soft as she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. "I was hoping I could ask for some help with an assignment."

His heart skipped a beat, the way it always did when she was near. He forced himself to remain composed, giving her a nod as he gestured to the chair across from his desk. "Of course. What’s the issue?"

She walked over, moving with a slow, deliberate grace that set his nerves on edge. She sat down, crossing her legs in a way that drew his attention for a brief second before he snapped his eyes back to her face.

"It’s for another module," she said, sliding her notebook onto the desk between them. "Professor Gasly’s class, actually. It’s...similar to what you taught us last term, his is the History of France through Literature, so I thought maybe you could give me some advice."

"Gasly?" Charles raised an eyebrow, trying to keep his voice neutral. "He’s more than capable. Why didn’t you go to him?"

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering up to meet his in a way that made his pulse jump. Then, she leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping just enough to send a ripple of tension through him.

"Because you do it better."

His throat tightened, and for a second, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly. "Pardon?"

She gave him a soft, almost playful smile. "You teach better."

He swallowed, trying to maintain control, but the way she was looking at him, the way her words lingered in the air—it was impossible to ignore. There was something different about her today. Something deliberate in the way she spoke, the way she held herself. And then, almost as if to confirm his suspicions, he felt it—her foot. It slid up against his calf, just lightly, but enough to send a jolt of awareness through him.

He froze, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes flicked to hers. She was still smiling, that same soft, teasing smile, but now there was something else in her gaze. Something that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

"Is...is that so?" he managed to say, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He should stop this. He knew he should stop this. But the warmth of her foot against his leg, the subtle pressure of it moving higher—it was making it difficult to think straight.

"Yes," she said, her voice almost a purr now, her eyes never leaving his. "I always seem to understand things better when you explain them."

He shifted in his seat, trying to ignore the way his body was reacting to her touch. His pulse was racing, heat pooling in his stomach as her foot continued its slow, teasing movement up his leg. He should stop her. He should say something, push her away, remind her that this was completely inappropriate. But the words stuck in his throat, and instead, he found himself leaning forward, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as if he needed to hold on to something solid.

"What’s the assignment about?" he asked, his voice tight as he tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground.

She leaned back in her chair, her foot still resting against his leg, but now she seemed to relax, as if she’d gotten the reaction she wanted from him. She reached for her notebook, flipping it open casually as if nothing had just happened.

"It’s about narrative structures," she said, her tone suddenly more professional, though there was still a glint in her eye. "Professor Gasly is focusing on how different forms of storytelling can influence the reader’s emotional response. But his examples are so dry, you know? I thought you might have a better way of explaining it."

He stared at her for a moment, trying to ignore the lingering sensation of her foot against his leg. He could feel his heartbeat in his throat, his skin still buzzing from her touch. But he forced himself to focus on the task at hand, even though every fibre of his being was screaming at him to do something else entirely.

"Well..." He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice. "Narrative structures are...complex. There’s a lot to unpack. It’s not just about the form, but how it interacts with the content—"

As he spoke, he felt her foot move again, this time trailing up his calf in a way that was both subtle and devastatingly effective. His words faltered for a moment, his hands gripping the desk tighter as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"You seem tense," she said softly, her lips curling into that teasing smile again.

He shot her a sharp look, his mind torn between wanting to stop this and wanting to see where it would go. "This isn’t appropriate," he said, though his voice lacked the firmness he intended.

She tilted her head, her eyes locking with his, and for a moment, the room seemed to shrink around them. "Maybe not," she said, her foot moving higher, "but I don’t think either of us wants to stop."

The tension between them was palpable now, thick and suffocating. He could feel the pull of her, the magnetic attraction that had been building for weeks, and it was taking everything in him not to close the distance between them. But then, a sharp buzz interrupted the moment, and his eyes flicked to her phone, which had lit up on the desk between them.

Her gaze shifted to the screen, and suddenly, her expression changed. The teasing light in her eyes flickered out as she stared at the message.

Logan: Have you seen my laptop charger?

For a moment, neither of them moved. The reality of the situation crashed down on them like cold water, and he could see the guilt flicker across her face, mirroring the same guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

“I’m going to go, I need to help him.” Even though he had seen the message, she didn’t have to clarify who him was.

She stood up slowly, her notebook tucked under her arm, the teasing smile still playing on her lips. The charged moment between them hadn’t dissipated, even as she turned toward the door, ready to leave his office. Charles sat frozen in his chair, his heart still pounding from the subtle pressure of her foot against his leg, the warmth of her touch lingering on his skin.

This was wrong. He knew it. But as she reached for the door handle, something inside him snapped—something primal, something that had been building between them for weeks, tightening with every stolen glance, every brush of hands, every lingering look.

"Thank you for the help, Professor," she said, her voice soft, almost too casual, like she wasn’t aware of the storm she’d just stirred in him.

He stood up without thinking, his chair scraping against the floor, the sound cutting through the tension. She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him, a question in her eyes.

His pulse roared in his ears as he stepped toward her, his chest tightening with the weight of everything he shouldn’t be doing, everything he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do. But his feet moved on their own, carrying him toward her, the space between them shrinking with every heartbeat.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, his hand was on the door, pressing it shut behind her. The suddenness of it made her inhale sharply, her body instinctively turning to face him, her back against the door. They were inches apart now, the air between them thick, heavy with unspoken tension.

"Wait," he said, his voice low, rough, as if it had been dragged from somewhere deep inside him.

She blinked up at him, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. Her lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out. Instead, her eyes darted to his, and in that moment, he saw it—the same desire, the same need reflected back at him.

This is wrong, the voice in his head screamed, but his body wasn’t listening. His hand slid to the back of her neck, his fingers curling into the soft strands of her hair, and then, without another thought, he pulled her toward him and kissed her.

The kiss was fierce, desperate—like all the tension, all the forbidden longing between them had finally exploded into something they could no longer control. She gasped against his lips, but instead of pulling away, she pressed into him, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as if she’d been waiting for this moment just as much as he had.

Her lips were soft, warm, moving against his with a hunger that mirrored his own. His other hand found her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them, until he could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his chest.

He kissed her harder, deeper, his mind a blur of want and need. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched into him, her body responding to his in a way that sent a surge of heat through him.

But even in the midst of the kiss, a small voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to stop. This was a line they couldn’t cross—a line they were already crossing. She was his student. He was her professor. And this...this could ruin everything.

But her lips, the way she kissed him back with the same reckless abandon, the way her body fit so perfectly against his—it was intoxicating, and for a moment, he didn’t care about the consequences. He didn’t care about anything except the way she felt in his arms, the way she was clinging to him like she didn’t want to let go.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against hers as they both stood there, gasping for air, their bodies still pressed together. Her eyes were closed, her lips swollen from the kiss, and the sight of her like this—breathless, flushed, in his arms—made his pulse race all over again.

But the moment the reality of what they’d just done hit him, a wave of guilt crashed over him.

This was wrong. So wrong.

He loosened his grip on her waist, his fingers trembling slightly as he stepped back, putting a sliver of space between them. She opened her eyes slowly, looking up at him with a mixture of shock and something else—something that made his heart clench painfully in his chest.

"Professor..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He swallowed hard, trying to steady his racing heart, trying to gather the words he knew he should say. But all he could manage was her name, soft and broken, as if it was a plea. A prayer.

The air between them had shifted completely. The kiss, which had started as a release of tension, was now spiralling into something much more dangerous. Her body was pressed against his, her hands gripping his shirt tightly, pulling him closer, as though she couldn’t get enough of him. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out any rational thought.

Charles could barely think past the feel of her lips on his, the heat of her body against his. This was wrong—he knew it with every logical part of his mind—but his control had snapped. Every line he had drawn, every moral boundary he had tried to maintain had been washed away in the wake of her kiss, her touch.

Her fingers tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from where it had been neatly tucked into his trousers. The feel of her hands slipping under the fabric, cool against his heated skin, sent a shudder down his spine. He groaned against her lips, the sound deep and guttural as he kissed her harder, more hungrily.

His own hands began to roam, unable to stop themselves. They found her waist, then slid upwards, brushing over the soft fabric of her blouse. Before he knew it, he was fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, his fingers trembling slightly, fueled by a need that felt like it had been building for far too long.

She made a small, breathy sound when his fingers brushed against her skin, and it only spurred him on. One button, then another. Her shirt was opening, revealing smooth skin, and his mouth was suddenly desperate to taste her, to explore every inch of her that he had only imagined in fleeting, guilty fantasies.

Her hands moved frantically now, pulling his shirt free and sliding up his torso, nails lightly scraping his skin. The sensation sent a shockwave through him, and he kissed her harder, deeper, feeling like he was on the brink of losing himself completely. He should stop. He knew he should stop. But the way she was responding, the way she clung to him, told him she didn’t want to stop either.

Just as he pulled her shirt open further, his lips trailing down her neck, a loud, jarring sound broke through the heated fog of the moment.

The alarm on his phone.

The sharp, persistent beeping pierced through the haze of desire, yanking them both back to reality in an instant.

For a moment, they both froze, their bodies still tangled together, his hand halfway to her bare skin. The sound was so out of place, so intrusive, that it felt almost surreal. His phone buzzed relentlessly from his desk, a sharp reminder that there was a world outside of this office—one that didn’t care about the chaos unfolding inside it.

He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, his forehead still resting against hers. His shirt was rumpled, her blouse half undone, and for a split second, neither of them moved, as if caught in the aftermath of a hurricane.

Charles inhaled deeply, the reality of the situation crashing down on him, but instead of feeling guilt or regret, all he felt was impatience—a need to pick up where they had left off.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark, her lips swollen from their kiss. There was no awkwardness in her gaze, no second-guessing. Only desire. The kind of desire that made everything else fade away.

The beeping of his phone continued, insistent and irritating. His eyes flickered to the device, and then back to her. His next lecture. Of course. Duty called, but so did she, standing in front of him, half undressed, looking at him like she wanted nothing more than for him to finish what they’d started.

For a moment, he considered ignoring the alarm, cancelling everything for the rest of the day just to stay here with her. The temptation was overwhelming.

But then he let out a soft, low chuckle, dark and husky. "This...isn't over, mon ange."

She bit her lip, a flush spreading across her cheeks, but she didn’t move, didn’t try to fix her shirt. Instead, she stood there, still so close that he could feel the heat radiating off her, her chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his voice a rough whisper. "Come back tonight. Six p.m."

Her breath hitched, her body leaning into his without hesitation.

She pulled back slightly to meet his gaze, her eyes wide, filled with heat and something else—anticipation. Her lips parted, but no words came out, just a nod, subtle but unmistakable.

The look in her eyes sent another surge of need coursing through him, but the persistent beeping of his phone was a reminder that the world wouldn’t wait for him, no matter how much he wanted to lose himself in this moment.

Slowly, he released his grip on her, forcing himself to step back, though every instinct told him to pull her back into his arms. The space between them felt like a physical ache, but the promise of later hung between them, heavy and electric.

He adjusted his shirt, trying to bring some semblance of order to his appearance as he crossed the room to silence the alarm on his phone. His fingers shook as he dismissed the reminder for his next lecture.

"Six," he repeated, his voice firmer now as he met her gaze once more.

She stood there for a moment longer, her blouse still undone, a look of raw hunger in her eyes. Then, she nodded again, turning toward the door, her movements slow, deliberate. She buttoned up her shirt but didn’t bother to tuck it back in as she left his office, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

Charles stood there for a long moment after she was gone, staring at the closed door, his chest still tight with everything he was feeling. His hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair, his mind already racing ahead to what would happen later tonight.

Six o’clock couldn’t come fast enough.

part four

[legendary-69420]

Masterlist Racing Hearts : VOLUME 1

Here is a masterlist for all the chapters of Racing Hearts : VOLUME 1 Charles Leclerc x Male OC :

POSTER

Chapter 1: The Club Encounter

Chapter 2: A Rocky Start

Chapter 3: The Aftermath

Chapter 4: Pressures of the Spotlight Chapter 5: Rivalries and Resilience Chapter 6: An Unexpected Alliance Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chapter 7: Closer Than Before Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 8: Rising Tensions Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 9: Breaking Barriers

Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 10: The Turning Point

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Chapter 11: Under the Spotlight

Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 12: The Weight of Silence

Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 13: The Final Bond

Part 1

Part 2 Part 3

Chapter 14: The Final Lap

Part 1 Part 2

ENJOY READING!!!!!!!! Volume 2 Out now!!!

[planetmimi]

decode - cl16

context: charles leclerc x black!fem!oc, some smau (cause i love those doooown)

faceclaim: @balialdn on insta

cw: none

summary: after a five-month social media break, artist Ahvi finally comes back to social media. her comeback is in the midst of dating rumors swirling around her and two of her...friends.

Italic = flashback

feedback is appreciated, this is my first one so please be nice

ahvi

liked by charles_leclerc, zendaya and 8.473.875 others

ahvi: my french is getting better, might use it in this project…maybe? (be calm yall)

f1lover: CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! welcome back queen (im trying to be calm, i think i might actually explode from happiness)!!!

username74: oh look the whore is back

username54: awww we all hoped you would never come back

username12: no fr! when her contract ran out i thought that we were finally done with her

username276: YOU DIDNT SAY FOR A WHOLE YEAR MAAM

lewishamilton: new music, maybe?

ahvi: maybe… if you get me paddock passes

lewishamilton: ask your boyfriend...maybe

ahvi: blocked, reported and banned from listening to my music cause OMG?! i just got back too?! like please ntm on me

charles_leclerc: teaching you french has been quite the challenge, i would like some type of credit please

ahvi: if you podium i'll think about it

charles_leclerc: and if i get P1 i want a song written for me and to be in the music video

ahvi: *gasps in étonnement* thats asking for a lot, P1 twice this season and you've got yourself a deal

username67: you should have never come back nobody wants to hear your shitty music

stanningahvi: the fact that it’s been damn near two years without any new music… and a year since we've last seen you👁️👄👁️

lew_max.444: no cause if this is a trick…imma do something heinous

ahvi: is this a threat ? cause it’s kinda feeling like a threat

ahvi4f1: i mean…we can make it one if you want us to 🤷🏾‍♀️

zendaya: as your bestfriend i have to let you know, if you don’t drop this, i will do so for you (i will leak it)❤️

ahvi: sounds like less work for me tbh 🤷🏽‍♀️

zendaya: alright yall secret project dropping next month at 4 pm PST

ahvi: ouuu d*sney dupe 🤭

tomholland2013: please, don’t check your messages mate

zendaya: don’t listen to him. go check your messages babe. go ahead.

ahvi: #CANCELZENDAYA

liked by: zendaya, tomholland2013 and 45.856 others

ahvi

liked by: lewishamilton, sza and 5.946.087 others

ahvi: why didn't y'all tell me Australia is so hot ?? oh wait.. thats just me sorry y'all

landonorris : FIRST !

ahvi: 15th actually

landonorris : ......... you think you're so funny huh

ahvisdrafts: i mean she is actually a full time stand up comedian, part time singer-songwriter.

ahvi: you get it

username2: so, you and whats his face broke up and now you're going between F1 drivers?

f1grids: wow, never expected an A lister to become a grid groupie

girly2pop: are you ready to write a song for that man?

ahvi: stooop. shhhhhh. if no one mentions it EVER AGAIN i won’t have to do it

normani: tea is she's actually written like six of em already

georgerussell63: why is it always me?!

username29: girl we've heard the rumors about you getting around miss paddock princess

username : never would i have expected ahvi to become as close as she is with the f1 grid…like i didn't even know she knew what f1 was

username9: shes sleeping her way through it lol

username: girl you need to back up off charles

username6: no for real...going to australia three weeks before race week? way to scream desperate

Over the last year Ahvi has become somewhat of a hermit, between rumors swirling of a potential relationship between her and Charles, and her break up with her ex-friend becoming known to the public. All of this buzz around her name has generated a lot of hate, whether it be from her ex-friend's fans, Charles fans or her own haters. For the last year Ahvi has just been the internet's punching bag, despite not being active on the internet.

In the year she took away from social media a lot happened, a lot changed. Before she started her break, she was just off a stadium world tour, about to drop her first proper album. She felt on top of the world, until one day, with only three months left in her tour. Just before her second day at Wembly Stadium, when she fainted during soundcheck and was sent to the hospital.

- a year ago -

Her heartbeats so loud she almost can't hear what the nurse in front of her is saying. The nurse smiles lightly "I know this is probably very shocking, so I will give you some time, but your options are a bit limited with how far along you are." Ahvi nods, trying to process the words that were said to her, "I just- I'm sorry, I know I've made you say it to me a hundred times over but just...one more time and can I see the results."

"Don't worry, this is a common response in this situation," the nurse says as she hands over the blood test results. Ahvi looks at the blood test results, there it is, in black and white, "your HCG levels are higher than normal," the nurse points to her HCG results. Aleyah's eyes follow the nurse's finger, "Your results put you at being 17 weeks pregnant." There's that word again, pregnant, the one part of this she can't wrap her head around. As the nurse was talking to her an ultrasound tech brought in an ultrasound machine.

Ahvi tries her best to truly listen and absorb what the nurses are telling her as she lifts her shirt up to start the ultrasound. When the ultrasound tech brings the wand to where the gel was put a fast heartbeat fills the room and tears swell in the young singers eyes.

The 22-year-old looks at the ultrasound screen, a small incredulous whisper tumbles from her lips, "what the fuck."