#female formula one fans

[meganmarshall]

I’ve started lying to men about who my fave driver is if we talk about f1 because I can’t be arsed for the “you just like him because he’s hot” argument - girl you said it, not me 😶

[trashytracktales]

Hiii, I’m not sure if your requests are open, but if they are, could you write something with Lando and Reader where they have been dating for just a few weeks, haven’t had sex yet. One day they’re working out together at Lando’s house in Monaco (the room with the mirror from the video I Ate and Trained Like Lando Norris for 24 hours). Reader is doing squats with her back towards the mirror and Lando can’t help but stare at her ass and he gets hard / flustered so he stops from doing his exercise and reader asks him what’s wrong and before he answers she realises he’s horny so she teases him - this time on purpose- and then they fuck in that room on the floor

In the heat of it | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for trusting me enough to bring this to life, it was... something 🥵

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── They've been dating for a few weeks now, but the time was never right for them to get intimate. During a playful workout together, Lando gets caught staring, sparking a moment that leaves them both realizing just how deep their connection actually goes.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, fluff & smut, explicit language, unprotected sex, swearing, established relationship, suggestive/flirty behavior. MDNI!

𐙚 word count ──── 3.6k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 12, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Enjoy watching Lando learn that some cardio sessions have unexpected side effects 🤍🎀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

IT DOESN’T TAKE long before Lando starts to regret his decision. It would have been much easier to invite his girlfriend to have lunch together. That would have saved him from a constant dry mouth and irregular heartbeat every time he feels her eyes accidentally landing on him.

The smooth floor and sophisticated equipment in his personal gym are softly bathed in the morning sun that seeps through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Monaco's streets are still peaceful at this hour, considering it's the middle of the week, and the port is sparkling in the sunlight.

The room usually has a subtle scent of cedar and rubber, fresh and energized, but now it carries a sweet honey scent, borrowed from her presence.

They are already halfway through their warm-up. She’s pulling a resistance band around her thighs, stretching before they dive into the heavier part of their routine, her focus completely on the exercises he’s walked her through. But, of course, a huge part of her focuses on how Lando touches her, purposely, to guide her when her posture doesn't match the exercise.

Even in simple gym shorts and a T-shirt, Lando somehow manages to look so effortlessly attractive — curly hair a little messy, face flushed just enough from their recent sets, and his labored breathing after putting in the effort. He’s all energy, fluid in his movements, though he's clearly trying to keep his pace casual.

“Lookin’ strong,” he teases, flashing a grin as she adjusts her stance.

The girl shrugs, “I’m just that good at following instructions. Although, I think having one of the best trainers in the area helps, too.”

Lando lets a chuckle out, “I won't go easy on you just because you kiss-ass. But it’s cute to see you trying.”

Even though they have only been dating for a few weeks, there is an undeniable spark between them two, especially in a setting where every glance and skin-to-skin contact feels amplified by the intensity of their exercises. Her sports outfit leaves no room for interpretations, hugging her curves and defining her lines, and Lando's imagination is stimulated every time he turns his gaze towards her.

He’s now down on the floor, holding a plank, his core engaged and muscles taut as he fights to hold his body up and spine straight. She’s supposed to be timing him, but the second he shoots her a cheeky grin, she decides she can’t resist a bit of fun; in her defense, he started it. With a simple touch, the seconds freeze on the screen of his phone, then she places it on one of the boxes stored in the corner of the room.

“Hi there,” says the girl in a soft tone once she sits down in front of him just inches apart, propping herself up on her elbows so her face is level with his.

Lando raises his eyebrows, trying not to laugh as his shoulders shake slightly from the effort of holding his body weight. “Don’t,” he warns her, breath coming in controlled puffs.

“I’m not doing anything,” she smiles innocently, kicking her feet in the air while inching a little closer until her nose almost brushes his.

He laughs at her bad acting, his arms starting to shake a bit more. “Outrageous is what you are.”

She pouts just as Lando dips his head down, managing to steal a playful kiss. Their lips meet briefly, soft and warm, before he pulls back up to maintain his form. It makes her sigh in frustration, the ghost of a kiss not nearly enough for her. If anything, it only leaves her wanting more.

Luckily, he doesn’t pull back when she cups his cheek in her palm, pressing her mouth on his once more, his giggles mixing with hers as he tries to keep his balance. Savoring the feel of his lips and the way Lando grunts softly into the kiss, she can feel that this one is more deeper and slower — much real — making her shiver. It seems as though everything else disappears, the feel of each other reminding them both why they decided to give the relationship a shot in the first place.

“And you are so fun to corrupt,” she admits, finally getting up to give Lando time to recover.

After a few sets, she finally moves on to squats, and Lando follows her positioning herself in front of the mirror. It wasn't even supposed to be there, but he sometimes uses the gym as a storage room for random packages. This one, specifically, came in the mail a few weeks ago and he didn't have time to hang it in the hallway, where he initially planned. So, he simply let it rest against the wall in his gym room, and it's been there ever since. Forgotten.

Giving the circumstances, he is seriously thinking of leaving it there for good.

Conveniently, Lando decides that now is the perfect time to start his Russian twists, so he bends over to collect a dumbbell off the floor, then sits down on the yoga mat. Right in front of her.

Unaware of the effect she's having on him, he watches her go through each squat with his eyes trailing down on the reflection of her ass in the mirror, an intense warmth spreading over him as he tries to focus on his own exercise. It is quite innocent — he's just respectfully looking — until it isn't. Until he feels it in his boxers. Until he almost drops the dumbbell, which catches her attention.

Lando tries to ignore it, though, to nonchallantly brush it off, telling himself that it's natural and that he's just admiring her physical appearance. Anyone in his shoes would do it. However, his thoughts start to wander, images flashing uninvited as his heart rate quickens for reasons far beyond the exercise.

“Are you okay down there, hotshot? What are you fighting?” she asks curiously, raising her head just enough to catch the dazed look on Lando’s face.

Her voice pulls him back, his breath catching for a moment, “Yeah, never better.”

It's his husky voice that gives it away. Right after, she notices a lingering gaze, and the soft pink creeping across his features as his eyes are fixed ahead. She stops, fixing her posture and straightening her back as she turns to catch his gaze in the mirror. She realizes exactly what's going on in a matter of seconds, a little grin forming in the corner of her mouth.

“Am I too dictracting, Lando?” she purrs, her question — and the fact that he knows she caught him in act — not helping at all.

“No,” he lies, “But I think you’re killing it with those squats.”

“And if I turn around to finish my set, what then?” she whispers, a challenge glinting in her eyes as she brushes the tip of her tongue against her lower lip.

His breath is shallow the moment he decides to abandon his exercise. “Then you would be killing me,” he admits with no restraints. “So, by any means, proceed. Please.”

She glances over to see Lando lying flat on his back, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes, as if he's in serious pain. His other hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers tapping a nervous rhythm. It’s still funny to see him like that, but then she notices the way his chest rises and falls a bit too fast, and her eyes drift lower, catching a glimpse of the growing bulge in his shorts, an unmistakable proof of what she’s actually doing to him.

Suddenly, all the amusement disappears from her face, being replaced by a warmth that wraps around her neck, and rising to her cheeks. Her heart is slowly starting to race, small impulses between her thighs forcing her to close them together.

Swallowing hard, she crosses the small space to kneel beside him, gently pulling his arm away from his eyes. His lashes flicker open, meeting her gaze with a mix of embarrassment and desire. And so much lust.

“How can I help you?” asks Lando, his voice rougher than usual, trying to keep things light, though the hint of vulnerability shows in his eyes, and it's not that hard to read.

She chuckles nervously, “The question is how can I help you?”

In response, Lando uses the same hand to wrap his fingers around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She feels his hand squeezing a little, the other one moving to her waist, hesitating before pulling her completely on top of him, without breaking the kiss. His tongue slips firmly into her mouth, just as it has done so many times before, but now it feels somehow different. Somehow, they both know that the kiss is meant to lead to something much more intense, because there's nothing stopping them anymore.

In the intimacy of his apartment, without interruption, Lando lowers his hands to her waist, rubbing her against him. Slowly. Repeatedly. The pressure forces them to moan in unison — a brief taste of the pleasure they are about to share. His hands then drop lower, roaming over her thighs, then back down to her ass, cupping it in his large palms.

He breaks away just enough to murmur, his voice low and almost reverent, “That enough of an answer?”

“Positive,” she replies, feeling his breath hitch as she shifts on top of him, straddling his hips, her hands splaying over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her fingertips.

Her lips find his again, sweet and intoxicating, each kiss sending sparks to her core. The new position makes her feel him much more firmly between her legs, taking Lando by surprise when her hand lowers to cover his length, massaging him through the thin material of his shorts.

“Fucking hell,” his lips stutter against hers, while rocking his hips into her touch.

“Yeah…” she agrees, breathing hotly above him, “Did I do this to you?”

Before Lando gets a chance to even think of an answer, she slips her hand under the elastic band of his boxers, taking him in her hand, feeling him in his entirety — deliciously soft skin, warm and ready, and so painfully hard.

It makes her ache for him.

She pumps his cock in her hand a few times, enough for her to feel how he shifts under her. It takes her a lot of self-control to stop herself from taking him in her mouth the second she hears his sweet little panting, her thumb rubbing softly over his swollen tip.

The workout itself had left Lando’s muscles burning, but her touch it’s something else entirely, igniting a heat in him that burns deeper than anything he’s felt before. Five more minutes enjoying the same high and he can give up cardio completely. Guaranteed.

Slowly coming back to his senses, Lando realizes that he has free will, so he slips his hands under her sports bra, palming her hungrily until he feels her nipples hardening under his touch. He breaths heavily as he rolls them between his fingers, managing to make her respond with a soft meowl, her grip on his cock losening.

That's his cue to take the lead, pulling her bra over her head in a quick move, and flipping their bodies over so that now he's hovering above her, eyes filled with need while looking down at her.

“Hi there,” Lando copies her tone from earlier, feeling a little fraction of the power she had over him.

She wants to talk back so badly — one of her sarcastic little comments that she knows he loves — but all she can do is let out a pathetic whimper between her lips when his mouth finds home on her bare breast. At that, Lando feels a shiver running down his spine, looking up at how she closes her eyes in pleasure, arching her back more against his mouth.

“Driving me insane with your pretty ass, baby,” he says, breathing heavily, managing to cover her body in a thin layer of goosebumps, “And your pretty fucking nipples.”

“Lando…” she lets another cry slip out, opening her eyes to look at him.

The image that greets her makes her breath catch in her throat. The way he sucks on her nipple while playing with the other one, and the way he looks up at her through his eyelashes — it’s all too much. She ends up wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him down with her. Then she runs her hands down his back, tugging at the edge of his shirt, tossing the useless material carelessly to the floor before pulling him closer for another kiss.

Mouth to mouth, chest to chest, skin on skin — who says heaven isn't real?

But if that's heaven, then what can she name the feeling she gets the moment his hand slips into her gym shorts and his fingers brush against her soaked entrance? Because it feels way too fucking good — much better than she expected, and certainly much better than her own hand whenever she pictured his face while fingering herself.

Lando starts slowly at first, spreading her wetness around her pussy, then fucking his fingers in and out, while cautiously watching her facial expressions changing. It’s not taking him long before finding that sweet, sweet spot that makes her roll her hips into his hand, desperation painted all over her face.

“Lan… yes,” she starts panting, “That’s—yes, right there.”

He hums proudly, sealing his mouth to hers, while parting her thighs with his knee so he can spread her more in front of him. Feeling herself open to his touch, so easy and wet, he no longer feels self-conscious about the way she's so quickly tunring him boneless under her gaze. He realizes that the feeling is mutual, and it makes him want her even more.

If that's even possible.

The sound of his fingers repeatedly fucking into her is all that anchors her in the present moment, but the second Lando feels her squeezing around them, he stops so he can silently ask for her permission to take the last piece of her clothing off.

She nods in a rush, swallowing the lump in her throat in anticipation.

Every inch of her is now bathed in the soft, golden light streaming through the window. Warm shadows are cast along her curves, the light outlining each delicate contour of her body as though the sun itself is painting her in real time. The image is so powerful yet vulnerable as she stands there, her figure glimmering with an almost unearthly serene confidence. Lando is utterly captivated by how ethereal she looks, like a goddess come to life, the kind he never imagined he would be close enough to even touch, let alone enjoy. He feels like he’s witnessing something sacred, something so incredibly rare, and the awe he feels is mixed with gratitude that she’s here with him, letting him see her in a such perfect lighting.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Lando finally manages to say, hoping that he hasn't started drooling all over her in the meantime. “All of you.”

“Your turn,” she says in a muffled voice, slightly bashful at the way he stares at her like he wants to devour her. Which is not far from the truth.

He agrees that it's a fair request, realizing that the only thing separating them now are his own shorts. Without protesting — because that would be so fucking dumb considering how hard he is — Lando gets rid of them with the speed of a perfect qualifying lap.

Matching the same pace, Lando’s hands slide around her waist, his fingers pressing gently into her hips as he guides them both to the side so they can face the window — or that's what she thought. Confused at first, she's frowning at him, then follows his gaze, lost in the direction of their reflection, understanding immediately what he really wants — a show. A show just for them, in which they can lose themselves together, without limits.

She sighs at the sight of their hot, naked bodies, the way he aligns himself with her, and how he’s finally pushing inside, enough to hear her whimper. She watches as he stands above her, his hands gliding slowly over her sides, up her arms, grounding her in his touch. The image of them together, framed in the soft glow of the room, feels surreal — so intimate and vulnerable in a way that’s completely new for both of them.

Lando pauses, pulling out at her little whimper, then pressing back in, but just the tip.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You're so fucking wet it keeps slipping out,” adds Lando in a low tone, so turned on that it makes her clench around his head.

To her frustration, the speed at which Lando pushes back inside might as well be negative, causing her to explode with how needy she becomes in the meantime. But just as she’s about to encourage him to sink further, he buries himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

“Lan…” she says as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, “You… feel so good,” she takes a moment to breath into his skin, then she turns her head to catch their reflection once again.

Lando is already looking, and when they make eye contact through the mirror, he starts fucking her slowly and gently, as if he could break her.

“See how silly you look for thinking we won't match?” he sounds so amazed by how easily she opens up for him, over and over again, with each steady thrust of his hips, “See that? Taking all of me so well, baby.”

“Lando,” she cries out at the way his cock throbs against her walls, because she knows it's way too slow, even for him.

It's simply agonizing.

“So perfect around me,” he states, “Can't believe I lasted that long. Should've fucked you from the first night.”

At this point, he's just rambling, but the thought makes her stomach tie in a knot.

“You would've let me, wouldn't you?”

“Yes,” she speaks, already drunk on the way he feels inside her, “I would have let you fuck me in the plane bathroom, on the way to Imola. And back in your driver's room, when Oscar caught us kissing. And last week, outside the club… Fuck. I wanted you to fuck me there so bad.”

His mind goes blank with all the lost opportunities, causing him to gradually increase his pace, the sound of them connecting so obscene.

“Wh—” he almost chokes on words, “Why didn't you say anything?”

“You—stressed about work. I… I didn't want to be—distraction,” she tightens her legs around him, keeping him inside her, the words losing their meaning as Lando shifts his position, wrapping his arm around her thigh to open her up even more for him. "Like that, mhm, yes!"

“You're so tight, fuck,” he swallows hard as he squeezes roughly at her thighs. “I'm so close.”

She knows that will leave marks on her skin, but nothing beats the pleasure of having Lando fucking himself so deep inside her, that her vision starts clouding.

All common sense went out the window the moment she stepped through his door, anyway.

She can feel his breath warm against her neck, hear the soft hitch in his breathing as he leans in, his lips brushing her shoulder, never breaking eye contact with her in the mirror. Lando's hands are making their way to cup her ass, pulling out all the way, before fucking back in, all over again, until he finds the perfect rhythm between their bodies. He moans loudly, pressing his upper body on her, their scents blending together and sweat transferring from skin to skin. They move so in sync, completely attuned to each other, and the sight of their shared pleasure, reflected back at them, turns everything into fireworks, her mind completely empty. Except for how well she's being fucked.

“Lan—Lando,” she's so close to sobbing that she shuts her mouth at the sound of her voice, thinking it's too pathetic to whine as she cums around him, her release dripping all over between their bodies.

The wet sound her pussy makes gives Lando way to fuck in deeper, taken by surprise that she finished without any warnings. He grips her ass one more time before he stills inside her, his cock throbbing, and pulls out right before he starts leaking, resting his cock against her thigh, his entire length coated in her release. His cum drips from his tip to her inner thigh, making him groan while he fixes his gaze on the mirror at the image of them.

She buries her fingers in his curls after he finally collapses on top of her, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the room. With his head on her chest, he can feel her heart racing, gradually slowing down, and lets out a soft laugh as she shifts a little under him.

“We're so fucking matching, baby. Let's gooo!” exclaims Lando, exhaust evident in his voice.

She feels her cheeks warm, “I think you’re a little biased right now,” she jokes.

Lando shifts slightly so he can see her face, brushing a thumb tenderly along her side. He smiles softly, the usual spark in his eyes softened by something deeper, so gentle.

“I'm just happy.”

Her heart flutters, and she feels him sink even closer to her, threading his fingers through hers.

“And very sweaty,” she adds with a chuckle.

“I'm pretty sure that's you,” he teases, letting the moment pass slowly, then calling out her name in a serious voice.

“Mhm?” she hums while turning to look in the mirror, watching him getting comfortable on top of her.

“Where do we go from here?” asks Lando.

“Your bedroom, I hope. The floor is killing my back.”

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Loosing focus

Word count: 660

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: A lazy evening at home turns heated when Y/n becomes irresistibly drawn to her boyfriend Lando, unable to ignore the tension building between them.

Warning: suggestiv

________________________________________________________

Lando was sitting on the couch, barefoot, in a hoodie and a pair of gray sweatpants that hung just right. His curls were an absolute mess, and he had a slight scruff on his jaw, making him look even more annoyingly good. He was laughing at something on the TV, completely unaware of the fact that you hadn’t absorbed a single word of the show because your focus was entirely on him.

Every little thing about him was driving you wild tonight—the way his arm rested along the back of the couch, his stupid little dimples when he smiled, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of his skin. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, your cheeks flushed, and the ache growing impossible to ignore.

You shifted in your spot next to him, trying to sit still, but your legs brushed against his, and it sent a jolt through your body.

“You alright there, love?” Lando asked, turning to look at you with that boyish grin of his.

“Yeah,” you said, maybe too quickly, as you crossed your legs and tried to look normal. “I’m fine.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You sure? You’ve been fidgeting all night.”

You swallowed hard, biting your lip as you glanced at him, your resolve crumbling. “I’m just… distracted.”

“Distracted?” His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his face now only inches from yours. “By what?”

“By you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked, caught off guard, but the smirk quickly returned. “Me? What did I do?”

“Exactly,” you huffed. “You’re just sitting there looking… like that.”

“Like what?” he teased, leaning even closer now, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Like—ugh, you’re impossible.” You grabbed a throw pillow and smacked him with it, trying to distract yourself from the way his proximity was making you feel.

But Lando wasn’t about to let it go. He caught the pillow, laughing as he tossed it aside. “You’re horny, aren’t you?”

Your eyes widened, your face heating instantly. “Lando!”

“What?” he said, feigning innocence as he leaned back, looking all too pleased with himself. “I’m just stating facts. You can’t even sit still, and now you’re blushing.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Shut up.”

“Why should I? This is great.” He scooted closer, his voice dropping slightly as he added, “You know, if you wanted me to do something about it, you could’ve just said so.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you peeked at him through your fingers. “And what are you going to do about it?”

Lando’s grin softened into something a little more serious, his hand brushing against your thigh. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand trailed upward, his touch sending sparks through your skin. Whatever was on Netflix was long forgotten as Lando shifted, pulling you closer until you were straddling his lap.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased, his hands settling on your waist.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you shot back, grabbing his hoodie and pulling him in.

And for once, he did exactly what you asked.

[bunny-jpeg]

dutchman's tongue

max versappen

cw: oral/fingering (femme receiving), afab!reader, loosely translated dutch and french (it's been a while since i spoke it), doggy style, unprotected sex,

bunny says: congrats on the win last week max! it's good to make use of my ability to speak/write in dutch and french (although a lil rusty!)

max had a way with his tongue. growing up in belguim there are three official languages but the two being french and dutch. you found his linguistic talents very interesting.

a lot of the time it was quite comically, he'll know the word in english, but somewhere along the way of thinking it, it'll get translated into one of the other languages we spoke.

"that thing." he snapped his fingers. he squeezed his eye shut to think of the word, "come on."

you looked at him, not even know what he was thinking.

"chou-fleur."

"cauliflower?" you replied.

he nodded, "yes!" he smiled at you. you had picked up a rough estimate of the other languages he spoke. while your conversations were mostly in english, you tried to impress him with your own linguistic abilities.

he smiled and kiss the top of your head, "good job, schatje! i am so proud of you." then took you by the cheeks to kiss them.

but also max was good at other things with his tongue. you found out early on in your relationship that he quite enjoyed going down on you. he loved your thighs around his head as he lapped and finger-fucked your pussy.

it was the morning after the canadian grand prix. it was cloudy and cool out, the window to your hotel room was open. you laid in a mess of pillows and blankets with your lover. you were laid next to him.

last night was fun, montreal was the city to be if you wanted to party. but the morning after you felt tired all over. max's nose was in your hair and basically snoring in your ear. you rolled over and got closer to his side.

you yawned and lifted your head to gaze down at him. you reached out and cupped the side of his face with affection. he was the winner after all, it was no strong feat given how the weather was.

"good morning." you said as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. his soft skin against your lips made your heart leap.

his eyes open slowly, his tongue was loose when he said, "goedemorgen, mijn schat." his hand reached for you and patted the side of your face. he looked more tired than you did.

"i guess we had some fun last night."

he nodded and yawned, "we did."

you kissed the side of his face and got up out of bed. the exhaustion hung heavy on your shoulders as you got up. but you weren't up for long as max took you by the wrist and brought you back into bed.

"max!" you yelped but were soon met by cuddles from your boyfriend. his arms wrapped around you middle and his nose dipped into your neck.

"où penses-tu aller?" his asked slowly, his hands started to touched your nude body, "j'espère que tu n'essayes pas de t'enfuir, mon amour?"

you looked behind you to glance at him, "are you trying to seduce me?"

"i am simply asking where you are going, my love. i am hoping you aren't running away from me." he rested his chin on your shoulder, "we have the whole day to ourselves."

"no we don't, you have to do interviews." you recalled.

he groaned, "and i can't stay all day in bed with you."

"nursing a hangover."

"no, no." he kissed your cheek, "to be so close to you." his cock pressed against your back, "you looked amazing last night, all dolled up for me. you were beautiful, mon amour."

you reached over, with max still clinging to you, and looked at your phone, it was still early enough. you put the phone down and turned in his arms so you were facing one another. you placed both hands on his bared chest and leaned in for a kiss.

"we have two hours before you have to get ready. i can get you something for your head... or i can give you head?"

he grinned at you, those blue eyes looked into yours. he replied, "actually, i was thinking i could... go down on you inside." he winked.

"max."

"i got all the celebration i wanted last night. i want to give you something in return. for being there, always." he let go of you and with your help got between your legs with your thighs around his head.

he rested his chin on your stomach and gazed at you. you tried not to feel self conscious about the angle of your face. but he continued to gaze at you like he had hearts in his eyes.

"i probably have the worst double-chin right now."

he shook his head, "who cares, you're still the most beautiful woman in the world." he rubbed his face against your abdomen like he was trying to his scent all over you. sometimes he'd do this thing where he'd ramble in dutch or french, he knew you weren't exactly catching what he was saying.

he started to speak about something in french as he got between your legs, your thighs now on his shoulders. the softness of them were against his ears as he leaned in to your cunt.

"et puis je t'ai vu dans les tribunes, les cheveux au vent. et je savais que je devais gagner. ce serait la seule façon de te rendre fier, mon amour. je te vois et je perds toute notion du temps. rien d'autre ne compte sauf te voir." he rambled before he lined his tongue up with your slit, he gave you one last look as he said, "je vous aime." then gave your pussy as sweet kiss before he started to lap at your sex.

you felt heat in your cheeks as he held your thighs on his shoulders. his tongue continued to pleasure you as you squirmed on the bed. he was keeping you pinned to him.

"ah, ah, ah." he said, "stay still." then continued his movements against your cunt. you could feel the burn in your cheek the more pleasure raced up your spine.

your breathing started to get heavier. pleasure coursed through your body the more than he pleasured you orally. you could admit easily that he was rather impressive when it went to going down on you.

you knew he was still running on the high of the race, his own head was racing as your thighs clenched around his head. you gripped onto his dark hair and moaned loudly.

"tu aimes ça, mon amour ? est-ce que tu aimes la façon dont je te fais plaisir?" his own cheeks were stained pink as your wetness clung to his chin.

"oh my god." you groaned, "why does it sound so fucking hot."

he kissed your inner thigh and looked up at you, "because you know how good i am with my tongue." then dragged his tongue across your inner thigh that made your toes curl.

he kept one hand on your left thigh and the other hand between your legs. he began his motions once more but this time adding his fingers. he sank them easily into your hole as he played with your clit against his tongue. occasionally his front teeth grazed against it and you moaned louder.

the rush of pleasure continued to course through your body, the more he played with you. he occasionally looked up at you to get a good look at the expressions you were making.

he gripped your thigh with love as he felt your cunt clench around his fingers inside of you.

"please, max!" you whimpered as you pressed your thighs closely around his head. you panted and moaned, the pleasure was overwhelming.

and he kept pleasuring you, he kept at it. with an endurance and focus that let him with the race the day prior. his cock throbbed between his legs, pressed against the bed as he focused on your pleasure.

"max, fuck."

"blijf stil, mijn liefste." he said softly, switching up the languages to see how you'd react.

it didn't take long before pleasure washed over you. your body clenched as the rust hit your brain and pooled in your stomach. with tugged on your hair and kicked out your legs before you felt the hit of it all.

you laid there on the bed and he pulled his head from between your legs and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. those blue eyes gazed at you with such affection.

he got out from between your legs, "not it's time for my turn, mijn liefje." he rested on his heels and looked down at you, his cock stood at full attention.

you looked at him, with lust in your gaze. you let your lover turn you onto your hands and knees. your face was buried in the pillow with your ass in the air.

"my love." he said with a heat in his voice. your cunt was on full display to him. the rush of blood to his cheeks was noticeable as he got behind you. he stroked his cock a few times to the sight of your slick pussy.

"please, max." your blood was rushing which was only making your hangover more prominent.

"i have you, my love." he said as he slowly sank his cock into your pussy. he soon took hold of your hips and nudged his cock up against the back of your cunt. right up against your cervix.

"shit." you groan.

the angle of his cock inside of you felt amazing. you clawed at the covers and arched your back. you panted into the pillows.

"you like that, don't you? you love that, my love?" he groaned, his tongue was loose in his mouth, "Ik denk de hele tijd aan je op de baan. Ik had een droom toen je rok omhoog vloog toen ik voorbijreed." he chuckled.

you whined, "c'mon max."

he took you by the hair and yanked your head a little back as he closed the gap between you two, "i said. i had a dream that i drove by during the race and your skirt flew up. and they all got a good look at those sweet panties you wore." he chuckled a little more as he kissed your face. he could feel the heat in your cheeks.

his thrusts were fast and aggressive, the pleasure bloomed in his chest as he moved. he watched you grip at the covers with your back arched.

"shit."

"fuck."

"i know, my love." he said between pants.

your brain felt like mush from back to back pleasure. you panted wildly into the pillows. your back arched further as max pressed further into you. he bent you into angles that were uncomfortable butt he pleasure that raced through you cancelled out the feeling.

"please, max."

"ik heb je." he said with a reassuring voice the more he fucked you. your ass jiggled from the force of his thrusts. he felt the sweat drip down his neck and down his bare back as he fucked into your.

"i love you." you murmured into the covers.

"i love you too." he said with such softness in his voice as if he wasn't balls deep inside of you. he loved you so much, he loved how you felt against him. you felt like a dream.

"please, max." you moaned as you tried to cover your mouth with your hand so you wouldn't disturb the neighbours next door.

"i want to hear you, my love." he said softly, his voice still in your ear, "i want to hear it all."

"but next door." you said.

"doesn't matter. i won the race. i can fuck my girl whoever i want." he purred as his pace became erratic, your eyes felt like they were going to roll back into your head as you moaned into the pillows. he said, "I want them all to hear you."

oh max, ever the romantic.

you whimpered into the pillows as you felt the pleasure come to a head of the second orgasm of the morning. you didn't have an awful lot of time left before he had to get ready. but by the stagger of his thrusts, you knew he was close as well.

"that's my girl." he said.

"please, max."

"mijn liefje." he said with a bit of tension in his voice as the warmth of sex clogged his head.

the angle made it feel like he was in your stomach which caused you to choke out moans.

the bed hit against the wall as he moved against you. with a few more hard thrusts, you both came at the same time. his groan was low and heavy while your moan was high pitched and had to be covered up by the pillow.

he loved when he finished inside of you, it made his heartbeat quicken. that he marked you inside and out. he slowed down and rested back on his heels as he cock slipped out of your used hole.

he pushed hair out of his face and panted heavily. you felt like heaven. you soon laid next to one another, he pulled you into his sweaty arms.

"mijn liefste, ik hou zoveel van je. jij geeft mij het gevoel dat ik een winnaar ben." he kissed the top of your head as you laid there together.

you got comfortable in his arms and smiled against him. the rush of climax was still in your head as you clung to him.

you said to him, in the bit of dutch you knew, "Ik hou ook van jou, max."

he chuckled and kissed you once more. <3

[dreamingonclds]

Unintentional | FA14

Summary: Y/n and Fernando Alonso were both professionals, both only seemingly having time for their careers. They both have had their fair share of relationships but they’ve never become serious for either of them. Y/n is an A-list celebrity, a highly respected actress and Fernando a champion athlete, a Formula One driver. Nobody could’ve ever imagined both of their paths to cross but, they do. It was said that their relationship was destined to fail, their 16 year age gap being too large to be sustained. But, to everyone's surprise, a blessing they created without intention was just enough to fill that gap, like fate.

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Word Count: 2,722

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

Note: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please @ yourself in the comments!

As you meticulously applied your lipstick, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the thought of who you would meet tonight. Your stomach bubbled with nerves, a sensation you always got with meeting new people; despite how long you had been in the industry for. You met new people almost weekly, nothing new in the entertainment industry. You were used to meeting wealthy business people and pretending to care about anything that came out of their mouths. But you were genuine about meeting new directors, writers, and filmmakers; you genuinely cared about what they had to say.

Tonight was no different, you had been invited to a dinner by some friends. It just so happened that those friends were in the industry too and it just so happened that the dinner would be in Beverly Hills. So, you knew that tonight would be a night of pretending to care because the people who actually cared for the artistry of entertainment would never choose to dine in Beverly Hills. And you were a professional, so you sucked it up, put a smile on your face, and decided to have a good night.

So, you decided that to have a good night you had to have a good outfit. You were a public figure, a very popular one at that, so you did have to dress to impress. And you didn’t mind, you loved fashion and you loved to shop so it all worked out. You also cared about your appearance and wanted people to like you, but not for how you looked. You wanted people to like you for the person you were and what you brought to the table. And unfortunately, that goes hand in hand with physicality in this world. So you slip on a back silk dress because those always do the job.

Arriving at the restaurant, you thank your chauffeur as he helps you out of the car and guides you to the entrance. Stepping into the restaurant you’re immediately greeted by your friends and introduced to all the unfamiliar faces. Soon enough you're all making your way through the restaurant, several diners turning their heads to you all, some trying to sneakily snap pictures which you notice every time. Once you're seated at the ridiculously large table, you notice the empty seat beside you and around the table.

“People missing?” you ask your friend sitting right across from you.

“Yeah, they’re running a little late but they should be here very soon.” she answers, giving you a small smile.

After a little conversation, you all turn your heads to the chatter that is seemingly making its way towards you all. Sure enough, it’s the missing half of your party and as you scan your eyes through all of them, one catches your eye.

“Here they are!” your friend announces, standing up to greet them and everyone follows.

In the midst of the commotion, bodies moving left to right you hear your friend declare seating arrangements.

“Fernando, why don’t you sit next to Y/N, she speaks Spanish too.” she says pointing you out so he knows who you are.

You see a man nod and begin to approach, you notice the brunette with semi-shaggy hair and a short beard. Sure enough, it’s the one who caught your eye earlier on. He greets you with a kiss on both cheeks that you reciprocate and helps you into your seat.

“What a gentleman, thanks. Fernando, right?” you look towards him, wanting to start a conversation like the rest of the table is doing

“Of course, Y/n?” he nods in response and you do the same, noticing his accent. As you make eye contact, you begin to note the faint lines around his eyes and the maturity of his face. Your mind begins to wonder, whether he’ll take you seriously noticing the lack of physical maturity on your 26-year-old face. Usually, men over 5 years older than you never took you seriously, their conversations always started professional but quickly turned to comments about your body and sexual experience.

Before either of you could get another word in, the waiter begins to ask for your drinks of choice. Usually, you would go for a beverage that would liven you up but, you had a rule that you only drank at dinner when everybody at the table were your friends. So, you asked for the next best thing.

“I’ll take a coke please.” you tell the waiter, who quickly jots it down and looks to Fernando next

“Uh, I’ll take the same please” Fernando turns to look at you with a confused look

“Oh, I don’t know everybody at this table so, I’d like to get to know you with a sober mind.” you tell him matter of factly, hoping that was the explanation he was looking for. Although it was the truth, you did want to get to know the rest of the table; but specifically him. In what seemed like record time, the waiter comes back setting down all of your drinks.

“Igualmente” Likewise he nods towards the brown beverage in front of him.

“I thought maybe you were still too young to drink, you look young, why do you want to get to know me?” he asks, bringing his glass to his lips.

“I’m 26, not that young. And you're sitting right beside me, we have a long night ahead. Why not get to know you; your friends.” you add the last part in, trying to deflect and hide your interest in him; hoping he doesn’t catch on.

“Why’d you copy me, I mean no offense but, you don’t look like you just turned 21?” he brought up your age first, two can play at that game.

He chuckles, still looking at you.

“I’m 42, not that young either.” he says in truth. And before you can respond he speaks again.

“Pretty girl, pretty dress.” he brings his glass to his lips, looking away nonchalantly.

“And you’re sitting right beside me.” he states matter of factly, using your own words against you.

Your jaw drops the slightest and your eyebrows scrunch in surprise. His confidence, so abrupt it takes you a few seconds to bring your face back to its natural resting place. Despite your efforts to look cool and unaffected, you can see the pride your reaction gives him. With a teaseful look in his eye, he offers you a smirky smile that makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. Your cheeks and ears go hot, and you now find it hard to sit still or contain the smile pulling at your lips.

The rest of the night goes exactly as expected, the two of you deep in conversation and completely ignoring the rest of the table. There’s a tension that's rising that even the others can feel. Neither of you even realize how many times they’ve teased you two or tried to get you to join their conversation. You’ve also failed to notice the pointed phones from other diners and sneaky restaurant workers.

As you all are ending your dinner, restaurant patrons and workers start making their way to your table. Asking for pictures and autographs from you and your party alike, both separately and together. Little did you know that those images would lead to a whirlwind of speculation, the world seemed to spiral at the thought of you together.

Your group converses outside the restaurant for a few minutes, a back and forth of what the plans for the rest of the night were. You stood there to yourself contemplating whether you wanted to continue your night. You had a fitting in the morning and a couple of online meetings you had to prepare for. Considering it was nearing 1 am, you decided to head home with a professional attitude to your day ahead.

Before you can interrupt the group to bid your goodbye, Fernando makes his way to your side.

“Are you going out for more drinks too?” he turns to you.

“I have meetings in the morning, I think I’m just gonna head home.” you nod your head.

“Me too actually, I drove here by myself. Let me take you home.” he points at himself.

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually; thank you.” 

You both take a few steps forward towards the group, ready to bid your farewells together. But before either of you can mutter a word, your friend's chatter amplifies into a passionate discussion about who knows what. Fernando turns to look at you, an amused smile on his lips that turns into a chuckle after noticing your surprised expression.

“Mejor nos esperamos.” We better wait, he jokes, and you giggle looking towards him, only to realize his eyes were already set on you.

“Buena idea” Good idea,  you say with a smile, continuing the playful vibe of the setting. You two carry on with your light-hearted conversation. Unconsciously backing away from the group until your back hits the restaurant's ornate rail. Fernando holding on to the rail on your right side, halfway caging you in, seemingly protecting you from passersby giving you questioning glances; realizing who you were.

Your conversation continues and you two get lost in getting to know each other. You learn that he’s a champion F1 driver and he learns the movies he’s seen you in, not knowing it was you. Before he can finish saying where his next race will be, you're drawn out of your heart to heart by shouts from your group.

“Hey lovebirds, you guys coming?” your friend shouts pointing down the street, implying a prolonged night out.

A sheepish smile forms on your lips and you shake your head, “We both have busy mornings tomorrow. We’re gonna skip this one!”

“Alright then, don’t have too much fun!” someone teases, causing the rest of the group to laugh.

Fernando smiles and shakes his head at the joke, “I’m just going to take her home!”

You all exchange thank you’s and appreciation for dinner before saying your goodbyes. Then begin to make your way down your respective sides of the street. He leads you to his car, not in front of you but by walking closely behind you, guiding you with a light touch to your back. He helps you in, chivalrously, taking your bag from you, opening the door, and taking your hand to help you in. You take notice of what car he drove, a luxurious sports car, that to you matched the reputation of an F1 champion. You questioned yourself on if you wanted him to live up to the reputation of a man like him.

Before he can drive off, he makes sure you’re both buckled in and asks for your address. You give it to him and then you're off to your luxurious hotel, which the movie you were in Beverly Hills for set you up with. You two continue your conversation the whole time, only stopping when Fernando gets out of the car first to open your door. He walks you to your room, as he insists on “dropping you off”. But really, you’re more than happy to oblige to his request as you didn’t want the night to end.

“No paps.” Fernando blurts randomly, as you both make your way through the lobby.

You scan the room and realize he was right, you only saw the employees and the occasional normal guest.

“Oh yeah” you acknowledge, normally every hotel in Beverly Hills was swamped with paparazzi no matter the time. So you worked it up to luck, you two got lucky tonight. Little did you know that this would foreshadow the rest of your relationship.

You make it to your room and unlock the door, stepping into the doorframe and turning to face Fernando. You two stand there for a few seconds, just staring at each other, Fernando's hands in his pants pockets and your hand on the door, an undeniable tension lingers between you two.

“Do you want to come in?” you suggest hesitantly, pointing inside, ready to face rejection.

“Uh yeah, can I?” he answers quickly, surprising you and catching you off guard. 

“Come on in.” you say, widening the door and stepping back, letting him inside. He makes his way towards the living room area of your massive hotel room and you follow him. Before you can sit down on the couch beside him, you notice the complimentary bottle of champagne in the ice bucket, now sitting in water that was ice a few hours ago. You go to the table and pull out the bottle from the bucket, wrapping it in a towel to prevent it from dripping.

“Quieres?” Do you want some? You offer him, showing him the bottle.

“Por favor” Please He stands up and heads towards you, taking the bottle from your hands to open it himself. You hold up the two glasses, also on the table, for him to pour into. After pouring, he sets the bottle down and you hand him his glass.

“Gracias” Thank you You both say at the same time, which causes you both to giggle.

“Let's go to the balcony” you suggest and head outside, he follows you but, not before grabbing the bottle to take with.

You lean on the rail, one forearm resting on it while your other arm brings the glass to your lips. Fernando places the bottle on the small table conveniently outside and then he goes to stand in front of you. He halfway cages you in again, one arm holding the rail close to your side, and you notice this protective pattern of his. Both of you stand there, not saying anything with words but instead through the looks you’re giving each other.

“You are very beautiful.” he blurts out, scanning your face with a pensive expression on his face.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion for a quick second before smiling and meeting his eyes.

“Thank you, you are very beautiful too.” you respond in honesty and nod your head when he looks at you confused. A shy smile breaks onto his face and he looks at the ground stepping away from you. 

He looks back up, licking his lips ever so slightly and takes the glass from your hand. He goes to place yours and his glass on the table while you stand there confused. He comes back to his original spot in front of you but this time way closer than before. His hand comes up to cup the side of your face and your eyes look deep into his as his thumb caresses your cheek. You go to say something but are cut off by his lips pressed against yours. You quickly catch on and move your lips with his. His hand comes off of your face and moves to your waist, you step away from the rail to try and get closer to him. He wraps both of his arms low around your waist and his fingers dance right above your bum. You instinctively bring your arms up to wrap around his neck and your fingers go to dance in his hair at the nape of his neck.

He smoothly turns you both around so now he is against the railing. Your makeout continues for a short minute until you realize something and your eyes open.

“I don’t kiss on the first date.” you say exasperated, pulling away and trying to catch your breath. He leans back trying to get a look at you, breathing heavily, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“But I’ll make an exception tonight.” you say quickly, he smiles before you lean in and desperately attack his lips again. He grabs your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist and walks inside towards the bed. He gently lays you down and stands back up separating your lips, he swiftly removes his shirt before hungrily coming back down on top of you.

The rest of the night goes as expected and contrary to your usual experience with men, he stays the night. You both sleep comfortably in each other's arms, not even wondering how it all led to this moment. Although you were both trying to figure out why this all felt so natural, you both knew one thing, this was the start of something special.

Taglist:

@minkyungseokie

@ursforever129

@thatchickwiththecamera

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

[freakyformula]

Car sex headcanon with Charles Leclerc

Warnings: Made in like 15 minutes lol, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink

-

It was supposed to just be a car ride home from Nice. You'd just landed, and both of you were exhausted from the flight and the triple-header weekends. You looked forward to sleeping in your own bed and getting to wind down with Charles.

He looks over at you, as you sit in the passenger seat, arms crossed and dozing off.

Something about the fact that you looked so innocent and harmless sparked something in him and he felt himself growing hard in his pants.

He carefully places his hand on your thigh, giving it a light squeeze. He is desperate to feel you but doesn't want to wake you up.

Your head bobs up as he pulls over, confused as to why you had come to a stop.

"What's wrong, Charles?" You ask.

He sighs, and looks away, focusing on the traffic outside.

You notice the bulge in his pants and sigh, not from annoyance but rather to collect your thoughts.

You're about to say something but he beats you to it.

"I... I'm not sure if I can wait until we get home, Y/N." He says, looking at you with a frown.

"Hey..." You start, "Talk to me, Charles."

The grip on your thigh tightens as the fire in his eyes intensifies.

"Get in the back, mon amour." He orders.

And you oblige. You get in the backseat in record time, meeting him halfway across the seat. Your mouths crash into each other and his hands start wandering.

First, they find your neck, pulling you impossibly closer to his face.

His hands slide down to your chest, sliding his hands under your oversized hoodie, finding out you're naked under it. When his hands land on your tits, Charles lets out a satisfied sigh. "Naughty girl..." He whispers between kisses.

You feel his hands slide down your back, coming to a stop on your ass. He spanks you lightly, causing you to gasp out of surprise rather than pain from the sting of his hand on your exposed skin.

Your reaction makes him chuckle, "Sorry." He says innocently, even though you know he wasn't sorry about his actions.

He helps you slide your sweatpants off, and his hands instantly land on your ass again, toying with the lining of your underwear.

Charles keeps his eyes glued on your face to catch any sign of you feeling uncomfortable but instead, he's pleasantly surprised by you helping him slide your panties down.

"Touch me, Charles, please..." You beg while pulling on his hand desperately.

He huffs, "So desperate for me, chérie." But he does as you say, after all, you asked very nicely.

His lips land on yours, and his hands slide down from your shoulders to the small of your back, guiding you onto your hands and knees.

"Fuck, mon amour. So beautiful like this." He coos as his fingers slide the insides of your thighs, teasing you out of your mind.

When you hear the clinking of his belt you let out a small whimper, knowing what is about to come your way.

You grab the car door handle, steadying yourself.

"You ready for me, mon amour?" He asks, and you nod frantically as an answer.

"Good." He praises and gives himself a few pumps before lining himself up with you.

His fingers slide along your slit, collecting your arousal on his digits. The wetness of you earns you a groan from him.

When his tip touches your opening, you instinctively push back on him, making him pull back. "No." He says, with a prolonged "o".

He teases your opening, barely sliding in, and pulling out again.

You groan in annoyance, "Fuck Charles!" You yell, on the brink of feeling pissed.

He chuckles and finally finds his way home.

You both moan out brokenly as he burrows into you, centimetre by centimetre.

"Feel so good..." You whimper and clench around him, making him hammer into you harder.

His grunts become more frequent and desperate and you feel yourself getting closer to your release as he plays with your clit, and slides from where you are connected and back to your sensitive button.

His fingers did their magic and you soon came closer, almost tumbling over the edge.

"Cum for me." Charles demands, and you do, hard, like the good girl you are.

Charles keeps his eyes on your contorted face as you convulse beneath him, while he moves in you.

You feel your arms and legs giving up. When you are about to give in, Charles grabs you, pulling you up again.

His arms bring you up against his chest, allowing him access even deeper into you.

As you are sitting on his cock, he continues ravaging your pussy, slamming into your cervix.

His lips brush against your earlobe, nibbling on it, while praising you on how well you take him, and how well you are doing for him.

"I'm close, Y/N. I'm so proud of you..." He announces while slowing down his movements.

And a couple of thrusts later, he slams into you, painting your deepest crevices with his white cream.

"Oh my god..." You whisper, loud enough for him to hear clearly. His grunts in your ear egg you on even further, and you push down on him instinctively.

He pumps into you a few more times before stilling, waiting out the aftershocks.

"You did so well, my love." He coos.

When he pulls out, you are left clenching around nothing, and Charles seems to notice. He carefully inserts two fingers into you and plays with the cum threatening to escape onto the black seats.

"We can't let that happen, can we?" He says as you feel his hardening cock slapping against you, ready to plug you up with his cock. "Ready to be filled up again?" He winks.

[violetszone]

A Love Story (pt.1)

Charles x fem!reader

Summary: A fan meeting, a coffee... Soul mates this is a part of a story that how Charles falls for his fan and his lifestyle and carrier made everything difficult for them

A/n: No proof read.

Just a month ago, you would never have dreamed of this moment while watching the races on your tablet screen. Right now, you are one of the fans chosen to meet Charles Leclerc. You smile along with the others when Charles walks in, your heart beating so fast. Charles is in front of you and he looks truly incredible.

"Hello, everyone. Nice to meet you," he says to you and the other four people. You all greet him one by one. "Hi...I'm Y/N," you say, shaking his hand softly. He smiles held your hand for a few more seconds "Nice to meet you...Y/N"

Meeting goes so well. You all chat with him and ask some questions. Before you go, he touches your shoulder. You look up at him. "Would you like to get coffee with me? There's a cafe nearby and...I'd like to get to know you better," he says.

You were surprised and didn't know what to say, so you simply nodded your head in agreement. You went to the cafe together, and as you got to know him, you realized that he was much more than he appeared on camera.

"You're a human being...it all sounds cruel, you know. You're working nonstop for PR and...races. You must be tired." He nodded his head and sipped his coffee. "You understand...it is hard, yes. Hey, would you mind giving me your number? You don't have to if you don't want to, but-"

You interrupted him. "I would love that..."

And this was how everything started between the two of you.

___________________________________________

If you want me to continue the story or tag, please don't forget to mention it 🥰🥰

[37sommz]

❁ : l'amour de ma vie . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: fluff. ✼. wc: 6k.

as much as michaela adores her sister, courtney, it's hard to find joy in leaving the year behind when courtney's love life is coming home for the first time. the new year brings michaela old friends in a brand new package.

✼. warnings: general language warnings. people in love.

✼. notes: look at me being consistent. she's a writer (for real this time!!) this one was genuinely so fun to write. don't know if courtney & daniel are endgame but it might be a cute little side plot for future storylines. literally sat at my computer googling 'what do australians eat' before giving up :)

000.⠀⠀DECEMBER 31, 2020    ›    Gold Coast, Australia.

The Sommers' kitchen of their Gold Coast home, was aflutter with movement. Michaela's hands moved swiftly as they chopped vegetables for the New Years' Eve party. The room filled with the aroma of marinating meats and baking cookies, a contrast to the typically aroma-less existence Michaela lived in her Turin apartment. She felt a gentle warmth spread through her, a comfort she hadn't experienced in a long time. Her mother, Miriam, hummed a song Michaela couldn't recognize while stirring a pot of chili on the stove, occasionally adding a pinch of this or that from the spice rack.

Courtney, phone clutched tightly in hand, couldn't contain her excitement as she danced around the kitchen island. Her laughter was high-pitched and infectious, causing even the stern-faced Miriam to crack a smile. "Okay, okay," Courtney said, her thumbs typing away on the screen, "He's definitely on his way. Should be here any minute."

Michaela, her knife hovering over a cucumber, raised an eyebrow. "Who is this mystery boyfriend that's got you all giddy?" she teased.

Courtney giggled, her cheeks flushing. "You'll see," she sang, sidestepping her sister's question.

Michaela couldn't resist the bait. She set down the knife and leaned closer, curiosity piqued. "Is he from around here? Did you swipe right on some guy who got rich after high school?"

Courtney rolled her eyes dramatically, her thumbs still tapping out messages. "Don't be nosy Mick," she hummed, her smile still embedded upon her face.

Miriam, noticing the playful banter between her daughters, decided to join in on the bit. "She's been like this all week, Michaela," she said with a knowing smile, "It's like watching a teenager fall in love all over again."

Michaela's curiosity grew. Courtney had always been the more serious of the two of them, her Master's Degree in Chemistry from the University of Sydney was proof enough of the trait. So, the thought of her sister being swept off her feet was both thrilling and slightly concerning.

"You're not bringing an eshay home again are you, Courtney?" Ella asked, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth as she correctly used the Australian slang. 

Ella Marshall had been Michaela’s closest friend since she was a teenager. The Brit was a classmate of Michaela’s when she first moved to England and they had stuck by each other’s side ever since. They didn’t get to see each other often with Michaela’s racing travels and Ella’s pursuit of her public relations degree, so the chance to share New Years’ together in Michaela’s childhood home was a welcome one. 

Courtney rolled her eyes again, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth before flipping her younger sister’s friend off. Miriam scolded her daughter with a disapproving look, turning around just as Ella returned the gesture with one of her own.

The front door swung open and in stumbled their father, Tobias, with their uncle Travis and his wife Beena close behind, lugging a suitcase that was practically bursting at the seams. Quentin, their two-year-old son, was perched on Travis' shoulder, his eyes wide with excitement at the sight of all the new faces and smells.

"Look who decided to join us," Miriam said, her voice a mix of surprise and warmth as she wiped her hands on a dish towel and approached her brother-in-law and his wife. She kissed them each on the cheek before taking a suitcase from Travis' hand. "You're just in time to help set up."

Travis, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, looked over at his wife and son. "It's a miracle we made it," he said, setting Quentin down gently on the tiled floor. "This little rascal had us chasing him around Heathrow."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds like he's got the racing gene," she quipped, winking at her young cousin. Quentin giggled and ran towards her, his chubby legs moving at a surprisingly fast pace for his age. She scooped him up in her arms, feeling the weight of his pure joy, and spun him around. As they twirled, she felt the stress of her breakup and the looming season melt away.

Travis, his Australian accent thick despite years away in London, nodded in agreement. "He's a little terror, that one," he said with a proud smile. "But we wouldn't have it any other way." Beena, ever the perfectionist, picked away the lint from her husband's shirt as he pulled her into his side.

Michaela felt a pang of nostalgia, looking at the love between her uncle and his wife, and the easy conversation between her parents. Her thoughts drifted back to Olivier, and she couldn't help but feel the easy nostalgia turn to sadness. Their breakup had been mutual, but the ringing in of the New Year made it feel much more final. Hearing the boisterous laughter of her cousin as he bounced between adults, she pushed the feelings aside, focusing on the laughter and chaos that filled the home.

"Courtney, can you grab the drinks from the fridge?" Miriam called out, her eyes never leaving her cooking.

"On it," Courtney said, separating from her phone for the first time since Michaela had arrived home hours ago.

Michaela took a moment to study her sister. Courtney had always been beautiful, with their mother's sharp features and their father's warm hazel eyes, but there was something different about her. A lightness in her step and a twinkle in her eye.

"I don't know what's gotten into her," she whispered to Ella as she planted a kiss on Quentin’s cheek, "But she's gone a little crazy, hasn't she?" Ella could only hum in response as she found herself caught up in entertaining the toddler in her friend’s arms.

Quentin giggled and leaned into Michaela, wrapping his arms around her neck. His chubby fingers played with the ends of her hair as she spun him around again, the room becoming a blur of color and laughter. As they stopped, Courtney reappeared, her phone glued back to her hand. Quentin reached out for the older of his pair of cousins, Michaela swiftly handing him over to her smiling older sister.

"So, what's the secret?" Travis asked, his gaze bouncing between Courtney and her phone. "I haven't seen you be this excited for anything ever." Beena looked over at the chemist with her husband's words, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Michaela's eyes narrowed as she watched her sister's reaction. Courtney's cheeks flushed as she avoided eye contact with everyone, her giggle turning into a full-blown laugh. "You're all going to find out soon enough," she teased, her fingers poking at Quentin's full cheeks, receiving his loud giggles in return.

Travis glanced back at his wife, exasperated, as she chuckled in amusement. "Boyfriend?" She questioned out to Tobias who could only nod with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "She won't tell us who he is."

Michaela's curiosity was piqued even further. "Why not?" She asked, handing her father an iced tea before huffing loudly as she dropped down onto the couch next to him.

Courtney looked at her with a smug expression. "Because it's more fun this way," she replied, bouncing Quentin on her hip as she walked out of the kitchen, her phone chiming.

Michaela watched her go, feeling a mix of amusement and annoyance. Her mind raced with the possibilities of who this mystery man could be. "It better not be anyone I know," she murmured to herself.

"What was that, sweetheart?" her father asked, turning to her with a smile.

Michaela's cheeks heated. "Nothing," she said, sipping her tea to cover her embarrassment. 

She didn't want to admit her fear that Courtney might be dating someone from the paddock, someone who could complicate their lives even more than they already were. But she couldn't shake the feeling that her sister's more frequent "innocent" trips to see her sister's races were not so innocent after all. Courtney had never particularly enjoyed the smell of burning rubber or the high-speed crashes that Michaela seemed to be enamored with.

The sound of a car engine approaching the house echoed through the house and Courtney's eyes lit up brighter than they had been all day. "He's here!" she squealed, bouncing an overjoyed Quentin on her hip before bolting to the door.

Michaela felt a strange mix of excitement and nerves. She had no idea who Courtney could be bringing home, but she knew her sister's taste was much different from hers. Courtney took off towards the driveway with her cousin still resting on her hip. Beena began to call after the excited 26-year-old but was quickly soothed by her tired husband.

"Let them have their fun," Travis said, his eyes never leaving his wife as he spoke.

Michaela nodded, taking in the warmth of the room as the anticipation grew. The engine grew louder until it was right outside the door, and she couldn't help but lean over the couch to get a peek through the window. She couldn't quite make out the identity of the tall figure with a dark mop of hair as he opened the door of his sleek G-Wagon. Her heart swelled for a moment as she watched him scoop up Courtney in a loving embrace that calmed Michaela's nerves. He turned to introduce himself to the suddenly timid toddler nestled in Courtney's arms, reaching out to lift him from his girlfriend's hip. Michaela felt the tension melt away from her shoulders. It was clear this guy—whoever he was—intended to treat Courtney and her family with kindness.

As Courtney and the mystery man made their way back into the house, the chatter grew more intense. The man looked up, catching her eye, and a jolt of recognition shot through her. It was Daniel Ricciardo. Her eyes widened and she sat up straight, her heart racing as she took in the sight of her sister's new love interest. Daniel was a friend, sure, but also a rival on the track. They had always maintained a close friendship, but the sight of him with Courtney was surprising to say the least.

"No fucking way," Michaela whispered under her breath as Daniel's eyes locked onto hers, the surprise etched deep into her features. She had seen the Australian driver in many different lights—behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car, in the media spotlight, and even at a couple of awkward dinner parties their teams had thrown—but never as a potential brother-in-law.

“Is that Daniel?” Ella trailed off, her almond eyes tracing over the tall figure and his dark hair. 

Her father and his brother shared in Michaela's surprise, their eyes widening in recognition. Daniel had been a household name for the Sommers family, as every Australian driver before him had also been. But seeing him here, in their home, holding Quentin in his arms and he exchanged a sustained kiss with Courtney, was something none of them had expected.

The three finally made their way to the front door, Courtney swinging it open with an air of carefree happiness in her actions. Michaela felt the air leave the room as Daniel stepped into the house, Quentin in his arms, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Hi, everyone," Daniel said, his Australian accent thick and familiar. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on Michaela before he nodded a greeting in her direction. "Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and all that jazz." He held Quentin easily in his right hip, his left hand balancing a six-pack of Tobias' favorite beer and a bouquet of Miriam's favorite flowers.

Miriam was the first to recover from the shock, a smile spreading across her face as she stepped forward to take the gifts. "Thank you, Daniel, you didn't have to," she said warmly, her eyes flickering between Courtney and Daniel, trying to gauge the depth of their relationship from his gesture.

"Couldn't resist," Daniel said, winking at Quentin, who was now playing with his dark curls hair.

Michaela's brain was racing. Courtney and Daniel? She had known that Daniel had a soft spot for her sister, but she had never seen it manifest into anything more than casual flirting and banter at the races. The sight of him holding Quentin and the ease with which he slipped into their family setting was surprisingly natural.

"Well, look who the cat dragged in," Travis said, his voice booming with a mix of surprise and good-natured teasing. Daniel let out a light-hearted chuckle as he carefully placed Quentin on the ground. He then warmly accepted the greeting, firmly clasping hands with Travis in a traditional masculine gesture. As they greeted each other, Travis gave a friendly pat on the back to the Renault driver.

"You alright, mate?" Daniel asked the day trader, a member of Michaela's family he had gotten to know quite well over two years.

Michaela felt a knot in her stomach as she watched Daniel interact with her family members. He greeted Beena, a respectful kiss to her cheek as he casually recalled the editorial she had been working on the last time he saw her in Silverstone. When he greeted Michaela's father with a firm handshake, Tobias brushed it off, drawing him into a quick hug instead.

"Welcome to the madhouse," he said, his gruffness belying the affection he had for the younger more.

Michaela felt a strange mix of emotions—shock, curiosity, and a hint of protectiveness for her sister swirling in her gut. Courtney had always been the brainy one, the one who never stepped a toe out of line. To see her with someone like Daniel, a man who lived life as if it were a continuous party, was unsettling. But as she watched the way his eyes lit up when he talked to her sister, she couldn't deny the genuine connection between them.

"So, you two are..." she began, her voice trailing off as she searched for the right words.

Courtney beamed, her eyes sparkling. "Dating," she said, her voice filled with a giddiness that was unusual for the typically composed woman. Michaela's eyes nearly twitched as she watched her sister's manicured fingers reach for her boyfriend. Courtney leaned into the Perth native with a lovesick expression on her face, one hand wrapped around his bicep and another resting proudly atop his chest.

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound was the sizzling of meat on the stove and the distant pop of fireworks. It was Miriam who broke the silence. "Well, it's about time you told us," she said, her voice filled with a motherly warmth. "We've been waiting for you to bring home someone special for ages."

Courtney blushed, looking down at the floor, while Daniel's grin grew wider. "It's been a bit of a whirlwind," he admitted, glancing down at Courtney who was now clutching his hand tightly. "But she's worth every second of it."

Michaela couldn't argue with that. Her sister looked happier than she had seen her in years. The way Courtney leaned into Daniel, the way he looked at her with such affection—it was clear this was more than just a casual fling.

"Well, come on in," Miriam said, breaking the silence with a warm smile. "Let's get you something to drink."

Michaela couldn't help but watch as Daniel stepped further into the house, his arm casually draped around Courtney's waist. She had seen him charm sponsors, journalists, and fans alike with his easy-going manner, but this was different. This was personal, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it.

As Miriam led the way back into the kitchen, the sound of her sandals clicking on the tiles, Daniel looked over his shoulder at Michaela. "Surprise," he mouthed with a wink.

Michaela felt her cheeks heat up as she nodded, still processing the revelation. Courtney had always been the more cautious of the two, and to see her so openly affectionate with someone was a shock. As they all moved back into the kitchen, she couldn't help but feel a bit like an outsider in her own home. The conversation between her family and Daniel grew more relaxed as they discussed the couple's relationship, leaving her feeling slightly left out.

"I'll be right back," she murmured to her father, who simply nodded with a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, and Ella whose attention was planted firmly on the surprised couple. Michaela excused herself from the room, needing a moment to collect her thoughts, to make sense of the new dynamics that were unfolding.

Michaela stepped out onto the porch, the balmy Gold Coast evening air wrapping around her. The scent of barbeque and chlorine from the neighbor's pool mingled with the distant smell of the ocean, reminding her of childhood summers spent at this very house. She leaned against the railing, taking in deep breaths. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the rush of emotions running through her mind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the soft thud of the kitchen door closing behind her. Daniel's footsteps approached and she felt his presence before she saw him. He leaned next to her, looking out over the well-manicured lawn that led to the beach.

"I know it's a surprise, Mick," he began, his tone sincere. "But I promise, I'm not here to mess with Courie's head or anything. I really like her." The casual nickname, one only Courtney's closest friends used, slipped out of Daniel's mouth with an ease that only increased the pounding of Michaela's head.

Michaela turned to face him, her expression a mask of skepticism. "You know what you're doing, right?" she asked, her voice a mix of protectiveness and curiosity. "Courie's not exactly the grid bunny type."

Daniel chuckled, leaning back against the railing. "I know, and that's what I like about her." He took a moment to survey the view, his eyes lingering on the horizon where the sky was beginning to lighten with the promise of a spectacular New Year's sunset. "She's got depth, you know? Makes me think twice about shit just so I don't embarrass her."

Michaela couldn't help but smile at that. Her sister had always had a way of making people want to be better. "So, how did this happen?" she asked, gesturing between the two of them.

Daniel shrugged, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "We just sort of clicked," he said, his eyes shifting towards Courtney as she chatted with Beena, Ella, and Miriam in the kitchen. "It started out as friends, you know, just catching up at races, flirting just to flirt. But she's got this... I don't know, this spark that just makes you want to be around her."

Michaela studied him, looking for any signs of deceit or insincerity, but she found none. At that moment, she knew that her sister had chosen well. Despite the initial shock, she felt a sense of relief wash over her. Maybe this was what Courtney needed—someone to challenge her—to bring out the side of her that was hidden under layers of academic seriousness and family responsibility.

"Well, don't let me keep you from her," she said, pushing off the railing. "You guys have a lot of catching up to do. I know she just got back from that big conference in Singapore." When Daniel failed to stifle a laugh, Michaela stopped to eye him skeptically.

"What?" She muttered, unamused.

"You're telling me you didn't know she was going to see me?" Daniel said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I picked her up from the airport, you know."

Michaela's eyes widened. "No, I had no idea," she replied, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. The revelation that their relationship was more serious than she had thought made her feel even more protective. "But I'm happy for her, for you both." She meant it. Despite her reservations, she knew Courtney was capable of making her own decisions.

Daniel's grin grew. "Thanks, Mick. I know we're both a bit... unexpected, but it works." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And just between us, I'm kind of relieved you're cool with this. It would really suck if you didn't approve when I've already told her I love her."

Michaela's eyes went wide, and she slapped his arm. "What?" she hissed, half-laughing. "Shut up, how long did it take you?"

Daniel nodded, his cheeks reddening slightly. "I might have jumped the gun a bit," he admitted, a sheepish look on his face. "But she's just..." he trailed off, his gaze drifting back to the kitchen where Courtney was now helping Miriam prep the table for the meal.

Michaela felt a twinge of something in her chest—envy, perhaps? She had always been so focused on her career that she had never allowed herself to truly open up to someone the way Courtney had with Daniel. The sight of her sister in love was both beautiful and unsettling. It was a reminder of what she had given up to pursue her dreams.

"She's everything to me," Daniel finished, his brown eyes glazing over for a moment as he watched Courtney approach the sliding door. The sight of him looking at her sister like that, with pure adoration, was something new to Michaela. She had only ever seen that look on her parents' faces, a look both heartwarming and disconcerting.

"Well, don't fuck it up," she said, her voice softer than she had intended.

Daniel chuckled, turning to look at her with a knowing smile. "I won't," he promised, his hand resting on her shoulder. "Your sister's got a killer disappointment face."

Michaela rolled her eyes, shoving him playfully. "That's not what I meant and you know it," she said, but her voice held no malice. The tension between them had dissipated and she found herself smiling back at him.

"I know," Daniel replied, his eyes still on Courtney. "But seriously, I'm going to make sure she's happy. She deserves it."

Michaela nodded, unable to argue with that. She knew that underneath Daniel's golden retriever persona was a genuine heart. He had been there for her countless times during the tough moments of her career, offering advice and a shoulder to lean on when things got too heavy.

They both turned as Courtney and Ella stepped out onto the porch, Courtney’s eyes searching for Daniel while Ella’s held concern for Michaela. Courtney looked beautiful, with her hair down and a flowing dress that caught the light just right. When she saw her boyfriend, she beamed, their hands involuntarily reaching for each other as if controlled by a magnetic force.

"Everything okay?" she asked, her gaze flitting between Daniel and her sister.

Michaela nodded. "Yeah, just catching up," she said, her voice lighter than it had been moments ago.

"Good," Courtney said, stepping closer to Daniel. "I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Michaela felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify—it wasn't jealousy, but a strange sense of displacement. She had always been the one who knew all the details of Courtney's life, the one her sister turned to for advice. Now, here was Daniel, fitting into their lives so seamlessly, with secrets of his own. She pushed the feeling aside, reminding herself that it was her sister's happiness that mattered.

"That's okay, hon," Daniel murmured, pulling Courtney back into his side with a shared smile.

When Ella silently pretended to gag behind their backs, Michaela rolled her eyes dramatically as they became lost in each other's gaze. "Okay," she huffed, pushing herself off the railing behind her. "We’ll go help Mum and leave you too alone."

Courtney giggled as Daniel wrapped an arm around her waist, his eyes never leaving hers. "Thanks," she called after her retreating sister, her voice filled with affectionate teasing. "We'll be back in a minute," she hummed, her eyes still focused on Daniel's.

Michaela's heart warmed at the lovesick tone in her older sister's voice though the moment was quickly shattered in typical Daniel fashion with a cheeky, "We're gonna make out for a little bit."

Michaela and her best friend groaned with a hint of genuine disgust as Courtney could only giggle in response. She turned to head back inside, shaking her head. 

The sound of their laughter followed her into the kitchen, where Miriam and Beena were busy setting out plates and silverware. She felt a strange sense of familiarity wash over her as she took in the scene—it had been so long since she had been part of their domestic routines. Despite the chaos of her career, the comfort of her family's warmth remained unchanged.

The evening rolled into night, and the party grew louder and more festive. The smell of BBQ filled the air as additional guests spilled onto the patio, their laughter and chatter blending with the distant pops of fireworks. Daniel had fit into the celebration so well that it was as if he had always been a part of their family gatherings. He had even charmed the toughest critic—Michaela's grandmother—who couldn't resist his charm and his genuine interest in her stories Michaela had heard about a million times.

Michaela found herself watching Courtney and Daniel from a distance, the way they interacted with each other, the way they shared a secret language of looks and smiles that she hadn't noticed before. It was clear that their relationship was more than just a fleeting attraction—there was a bond between them, a quiet strength that seemed to anchor them amidst the whirlwind of their lives. Daniel seemed to anticipate Courtney's next move throughout the night, casually handing her a napkin or a salt shaker before she could ask for it with a soft peck to her forehead and a whisper of an inside joke.

The party was in full swing, and the family had moved into the living room to watch the countdown on the television. Quentin, now sleeping soundly in Courtney's arms, had been the life of the party, dancing to the music and playing with the confetti that littered the floor. As the clock struck midnight, everyone shouted their goodbyes to 2020 and welcomed the New Year with a chorus of cheers and the popping of champagne bottles. The sound of glasses clinking and kisses on cheeks filled the air.

Michaela couldn't help but feel a pang of loneliness as she watched her sister and Daniel share a passionate kiss in the corner, their love on full display. She had never felt like this before, not even when Olivier had been so distant when they were together. Her thoughts were interrupted by a gentle tap on her shoulder.

"You okay?" Ella’s voice was a soft rumble in her ear. She turned to find her friend’s concerned eyes searching hers.

Michaela forced a smile. "Yeah, just tired," she said, taking a sip of her champagne. Ella had become friends with Michaela in a similar fashion. An introvert lost in her thoughts as she sat alone before an extrovert forced her to open herself up, Michaela knew she could see right through her facade.

"You know, you're not alone, right?" she said, her hand coming to rest on her shoulder. "You don't need to be with that arsewipe to be loved. We're all here for you."

Michaela nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. "I know," she replied, her voice thick with unshed emotion. "It's just... different now. Everything's changing."

Ella squeezed her shoulder. "Change isn't always all bad, Mick," she said, her own eyes misting over with emotion. "Look at you—Miss McLaren. You've come a long way from giving those boys night terrors in your go-kart."

Michaela chuckled, the memory bringing warmth to her chest. "Yeah," she said, looking around at her family, "But it's weird, you know? Courie's always had her head in books and now she's got Daniel Ricciardo whispering shitty jokes in her ear."

Ella laughed, taking a sip of her drink. "Well, Daniel’s not the worst person in the world for Courtney to be dating," she said, her eyes lingering on the couple across the room. "Remember when your Mum's sister started dating that comedian after her divorce?"

Michaela snorted, the memory of her aunt's unexpected romance bringing a smile to her face. "Yeah, I didn’t even know she could smile," she said, her gaze drifting back to her sister and Daniel.

As the party wound down and guests began to say their goodbyes, the family gathered around the kitchen table, the warm light from the pendant lamp casting a glow over their tired but happy faces. Courtney, now yawning, shifted Quentin in her arms, his body rigid with sleep.

"I can't believe we're already into 2021," Courtney said, her voice filled with wonder. "Feels like just yesterday we were all freaking out about Y2K."

Michaela's father scoffed in disbelief at Courtney's misguided reminiscing. "You were five years old, what do you remember about Y2K?"

Courtney shot him a playful glare. "I remember enough to know it was a big deal, Dad," she slurred, and the room was filled with laughter.

Michaela watched the exchange with a smile, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation. Her own future looked so different now—both personally and professionally. She had a new team, new challenges, and now, a new dynamic in her family. As the night grew quieter and the last guests trickled out, she found herself sitting on the porch with Daniel, Courtney, and Ella, the warm breeze carrying the faint scent of fireworks and the distant murmur of the ocean.

"So," Ella began, her voice a bit tipsy from the champagne, "What's the deal with you two? How long have you been keeping this a secret?"

Courtney's cheeks turned a rosy shade as she met her sister's gaze. "August?" She hummed, turning to Daniel for confirmation. He nodded with a knowing smile. "Yeah, since Barcelona, actually."

Michaela's eyes widened. "Barcelona?" She repeated, trying to recall the race weekend. It had been a pretty good one for her, finishing 6th after having qualified 11th. "How did I miss that?"

Courtney and Daniel shared a knowing smile. "It was the weekend you had that big meeting with Ferrari," Courtney said. 

Michaela nodded as she remembered that initial meeting with Mattia Binotto. The one where he reassured her that Ferrari was keeping their options open for 2021. The meeting before he completely shattered all her dreams just two months later in Imola. 

"I had a layover in Spain and just... decided to surprise him."

Michaela couldn't help but chuckle at the image of her sister, the meticulous planner, pulling off a spontaneous rendezvous. "So, what happened?" she questioned, genuinely curious.

"Well," Daniel began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Your sister showed up at my hotel room with nothing but a bottle of wine and a goofy grin."

Michaela playfully smacked him on the arm. "That's enough," she protested, though the corners of her mouth twitched with amusement. Courtney rolled her eyes. 

"You know what we mean," Ella said, poking the older of the sisters in the side. "How did it all start?"

Daniel leaned back in his chair, his eyes thoughtful. "It's hard to tell," he admitted. "We've known each other for a while, obviously. But it was just... one of those moments where everything makes sense."

Michaela nodded, understanding that feeling all too well. Her own career had been built on moments like that—instances of clarity and purpose that had propelled her to where she was today. "So, what's the plan now?" she asked, looking at the couple.

"Well, I finally convinced her to take one of my Renault polos," Daniel said, his voice filled with contentment. "But I'm hoping she'll join me on the European leg of the season."

Courtney blushed even more deeply, and Michaela felt a twinge of happiness for them. Despite her initial surprise, she couldn't deny that they made a good pair—both strong-willed, but with a tenderness that seemed to bring out the best in each other.

"You guys are going to be a nightmare at the races," Michaela teased, her voice filled with affection. "Everyone's going to know."

Courtney looked at Daniel, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe that's the plan," she said, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

Ella groaned dramatically. "Please tell me you two won't be wearing matching outfits," she said, her tone half-joking, half-horrified.

"Oh, you know it," Courtney quipped, her voice filled with playful spite. "It's going to be a sea of that god-awful yellow and black." Michaela laughed, shaking her head. 

"And I’ll have that atrocious papaya car to look at," Ella muttered jokingly, taking another sip of her drink. 

The conversation grew more comfortable, the three of them discussing their upcoming travels and the excitement of the new season. Despite her initial skepticism, Daniel had managed to charm his way into her good graces, and she found herself warming to the idea of him being a part of her family's life.

As the night grew late and the party wound down, Daniel and Courtney eventually disappeared upstairs, leaving Michaela to sit on the porch swing with her best friend and her mother, the three of them lost in thought as they watched the last few fireworks light up the night sky. Miriam reached over to grab her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm happy she chose him," Miriam said, her gaze still on the distant explosions of color. "He's a good man. And he makes her happy."

Ella nodded, the swing creaking gently beneath them. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice a little thick. "They do seem good together."

Miriam leaned closer, her eyes searching her daughter's face. "And what about you, darling? How are you holding up after everything with Olivier?"

Michaela took a deep breath, the cool night air brushing against her cheeks. "I'm okay, Mum," she said, her voice steady. "It's been a tough few months, but I've got a great season ahead of me with McLaren. That's all I need to focus on."

Miriam studied her for a moment before nodding. "You know, sweetheart, love isn't just about the big moments," she said softly. "It's about finding someone who supports you in your dreams and makes you happy in the quiet moments too."

Michaela's eyes searched her mother's, finding a well of wisdom that she had missed. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... different without him, that's all."

Miriam leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "You're stronger than you think," she assured her. "You've come so far, and I know you'll find someone who loves you just as fiercely as you deserve."

Michaela swallowed the lump in her throat. She squeezed her mother's hand and felt the warm embrace of her best friend’s arms wrap around her, a rush of love and gratitude. "Thank you, guys," she said, her voice small. "I just hope I don't screw it up when I do."

Miriam tilted her head, her eyes filled with warmth and understanding. "You won't," she said firmly. "You're a Sandile. We don't screw up love, we just take our time to find it." Michaela smiled at her mother's use of her maiden name.

The porch light cast a warm glow over the three women, creating a warm bubble as the rest of the house grew quiet. "I know it's hard to imagine now, but love has a way of finding you when you least expect it," Miriam continued. "Look at Travis and Beena. They've been through hell and back, and they're still madly in love."

Michaela nodded, taking a moment to reflect on her mother's words. The thought of finding someone who truly understood her, and who could handle the demands of her career without feeling overshadowed or left behind, was something she hadn't allowed herself to dream about for a long time. But watching Courtney with Daniel had sparked a hope within her, a hope that maybe, there was room for love in her fast-paced world.

❁ :��taglist.⠀feel free to send in an ask/comment to join the taglist <3

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@thearchieves @doodlehunz @evie-119

@bxdbxtxh @seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn

@99snse @ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut

@hiireadstuff @emilyval1 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @melancholyy-hill

@valluvsu @futuristiccroissantlampsludge @treehouse-mouse

@sunfairyy @lilypat

[slytherheign]

THE ARCHER | charles leclerc

PART 1/3 OF LOVER: THE TRILOGY.

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

SUMMARY: nothing and no one ever stays the same, you just have to hold on and hope that everything will work out in the end. these are dark nights.

WARNINGS: angst, time skips, doubts, overthinking, and family issues. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. dedicated to @a1leexxa, i hope you’re having a great day!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO TO TRILOGY MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

“You can’t do this alone,” your father told you, glaring at you with so much hatred and disgust.

“I can,” you replied.

“Your trust fund from your mother isn’t enough.”

“I got a scholarship.”

“You can’t survive without us.” 

You looked at your older brother, your tearful eyes asking him for support. He only stood behind your father, doing nothing.

So, this was it then.

“Watch me,” you replied, wiping the tears that escaped your eyes as you walked to your room.

Your bedroom was dimly lit, filled with scattered belongings and an empty suitcase on the bed. You sat on a chair, deep in thought.

They said blood was thicker than water, but what if that blood held you back from your dreams? What if staying meant sacrificing who you were meant to be?

You gazed at a faded family photo on your bedside table. Looking at the photo reminded you of all the times you tried to fit into their expectations. Your mother was the only exception, she only expected you to follow your dreams—the exact thing your father and your older brother didn't want you to do.

How many dreams have you crushed for their sake? But enough was enough. 

If your mother was still here, she wouldn't hold you back.

You stood up and began packing your belongings into the suitcase, quickly and determinedly.

They would never understand. They would never see the fire burning within you, urging you to break free from their judgment and limitations. Your mother taught you that dreams were worth the risk, they were worth the uncertainty that lay ahead. You refused to live a life dictated by doubts and disapproval. You knew you deserved to discover your true potential, to explore the possibilities that awaited you beyond these walls.

You zipped up the suitcase and took a final look around the room, taking a mental image of the life you were about to leave behind.

You were leaving behind the echoes of unsupportive words and unfulfilled dreams. From this moment forward, you were choosing to surround yourself with those who believed in you, and who would uplift and inspire you on the journey you were about to take. You might not have those people right now, but you trusted that you would find them soon.

You walked towards the front door, suitcase in hand, ready to embrace whatever was on the other side. You caught their eyes momentarily, casting them a glance before focusing your sight back on the door.

For years, you've allowed their lack of support to hold you back and to suffocate your aspirations. 

But not anymore. Not today.

Today, you set yourself free from the chains of conformity and rejection. Today, you allowed yourself to embark on a path of self-discovery and empowerment. 

It was time to leave.

It was time to chase after your dreams, even if it meant leaving everything behind.

It was going to be a combat, you knew that. But that didn’t stop you.

You took a deep breath before opening the door.

And then you left.

You were ready for combat.

Leaving behind the familiar and venturing into the unknown was both exhilarating and terrifying, but you did it. No one believed you would succeed when you gave up everything to move and study architecture in Monaco, but here you were, doing the exact same things they said you would never be able to do and living the exact same life they said you would never be able to live. 

Cruelty wins in the movies, but not in yours.

Your roommate turned best friend, Charlotte, became your number 1 supporter and you became hers. You may not be related by blood but you two were sisters—always inseparable and never without the other.

You haven’t heard from your father or brother after you left them. You had their numbers and they still had yours, but none of you wanted to do something to initiate a conversation. There were times when you wanted to call, you’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches you wanted to tell them but you just didn’t know how to say them so you always ended up not doing anything at all.

Easy they come, easy they go.

Charlotte came into your life as quickly as you lost your brother and father. You jumped from the train and rode off alone, but once you reached your destination, she was there to welcome you with open arms. As far as you were concerned, she was your family now. 

“I think we deserve a night out after those exams,” Charlotte sighed, stretching her arms before preparing to get ready.

“You know I always preferred staying in and just sleeping, but for once, I actually agree with you,” you replied. 

“Oh my god, is this real? Are you actually letting me drag you out of this room?”

“Yup,” you laughed, rolling your eyes before standing up and getting ready as well. “Where are we going anyway?”

“I’m thinking the casino,” she answered.

“Girl, what?” you stopped what you were doing and looked at her.

“What?” she asked.

“What are we even going to do there?” 

“Uhh… chill and gamble?”

“Right,” you sighed. “I forgot how rich you are,” you joked.

“C’mon, you can’t say no now,” she said.

“Oh, I’m not saying no. I’m still going,” you told her.

“That’s the spirit!” she hugged you.

You went to where the drinks were while Charlotte stayed busy playing some games. You sat on a stool, waiting for your drink when a man sat beside you. You focused on your drink being made, not paying attention to who the person was. He started talking to you and you couldn’t help but look at him.

“Are you here alone?” he politely asked before he ordered his drink.

“I’m here with my best friend, well more of like my sister, but yeah,” you answered, thanking the bartender when he gave you your drink. “Are you?”

“No, I’m here with my older brother. He’s ther– wait, he’s not there anymore,” he sighed.

“I’m sure he’s somewhere,” you chuckled. “Why do I feel like you don’t want to be here?”

“I just got dragged here, to be honest,” he laughed. “I was enjoying for a while, though.”

“Was?” you asked.

“My social battery got terribly low and they all seem to have a lot of questions about my job.”

“And yet, you’re here talking to me…” 

“Thanks,” he said to the bartender before looking back at you. “Well, you looked like you needed someone to talk to. Am I wrong?”

“You’re not,” you smiled. 

“I thought so too,” he winked. “I’m Charles, by the way,” he reached out a hand.

“Charles Leclerc. Of course, I know who you are,” you shook his hand. “I’m Y/N.”

“You know me? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re pretty important here, everyone knows you,” you sipped your drink. “I just figured you’ve already been pestered with questions a lot, so I’m not even going to try to ask you about F1.”

“I appreciate that,” he smiled.

“You wanna go somewhere for a bit? Somewhere with fresh air?” you asked.

“I was about to ask you the same.”

That was the night where you hit it off. A couple of years later, you were official to everyone close to you that mattered. Soon, the public would know. But right now, you were just enjoying the tranquility of being in each other’s presence.

You stared at him as he dressed himself after taking a shower. There he was, the love of your life. Every time his eyes met yours, your heart skipped a beat. His gaze was like a warm summer breeze, sweeping away all your worries and doubts.

You gently smiled when he winked at you. He settled next to you on the bed under the covers, holding your hips and turning you so you were facing him. He caressed your cheek, looking at you lovingly.

His eyes sparkled as if they were telling stories only your heart could hear and you longed to listen to every whisper they held. It was as if you were home. Home in his gaze, in his arms, in his love. And each time he looked at you, you fell deeper and deeper, discovering new depths of affection for him.

But it wasn't just his eyes that captivated you. It was the way his presence changed the atmosphere. It was the way his smile illuminated every room. It was the way his touch electrified your senses.

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before closing his eyes to sleep.

You took a deep breath. The moment his eyes were closed, you felt the familiar cloud of doubts looming in. One moment, your heart soared, confident in the love you shared, envisioning a future bursting with endless possibilities. The next moment, shadows crept in, whispering doubts, and questioning the path you trod together.

There must be some kind of downside to this. You were happy. And you knew that every time you were happy, there would be some kind of consequence in exchange for your happiness.

You closed your eyes in hopes of dying down your inner thoughts but amidst the darkness from your eyelids, you saw the room on fire and felt the invisible smoke surround your body. You opened your eyes immediately, withdrawing a shaky breath.

You looked at Charles who was deep in his slumber. He was far too perfect. Surely, there was a dark side to him? You searched for his dark side, but what if the dark side was right where you were because it was you?

You feared the uncertainty that awaited you. What if love was not enough to weather the storms that life would inevitably throw your way? What if your dreams would someday diverge and pull you apart instead of uniting you?

It was unnerving how love brought both immense joy and an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. Charles moved in his sleep, pulling you closer to him. He must’ve felt your uneasiness because he woke up just to ask you how you were. “Are you alright, chérie?”

“I am now,” you smiled, looking at his eyes. Amidst the sea of apprehension, a gleam of hope emerged. And it was him. It was Charles.

You found solace in embracing the present moment, cherishing how his arms embraced you, and trusting that, regardless of what might come, your love would anchor you through the churning tides of the unknown.

But still, you knew those dark thoughts would still continue to haunt you in the coming days. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put you together, but perhaps Charles would. He could always see right through you.

You have been the archer, you have been the prey.

Who could ever leave you and who could stay?

As you moved your body closer to Charles, you felt the arrowed heart necklace he gave you shift slightly on your neck. You held it in between your fingers, and then you whispered something only you could hear while you looked at his sleeping state.

“Help me hold onto you.”

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld9 @princessria127

[meganmarshall]

A guy mansplained formula one to me on the weekend and when he found out I was a Leclerc fan he said I wasn’t worth his time that he’d spent explaining to me… wtf 😭

[trashytracktales]

Drive me, clutch | LN⁴

𐙚 summary ──── He should be worn out after the night he's had. But Lando is insatiable, and one night is not nearly enough. His need has only been stoked by a few hours of sleep, giving him an endless supply of energy that matches his intensity on the track.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, descriptive language, mature/sexual content, unprotected sex, established relationship, fluff & smutt, bit of praising, swearing & a down bad Lando.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.8k

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 1, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I'm new on writerblr can y'all tell :')

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE MORNING LIGHT sneaks in through the curtains, creating a gentle glow and soft shadows all around the room.

He was always a deep sleeper, not easily disturbed by noise or movement. Over time, he conditioned himself to slip into catatonic slumbers, because in his line of work, it's vital to be fully rested. She, on the other hand, has always slept like a bunny, her ears picking up even the subtlest sound, amplified by the quiet of the morning.

With one arm stretched possessively over her waist and his face nestled into the curve of her neck, Lando is wrapping her like a second blanket, his warm breath fanning across her skin in steady, sleep-heavy sighs. His body radiates a deep warmth, a furnace that causes her to shift and almost run out of breath in the cocoon they've created.

It's way too hot.

She moves again, trying to get his arm off her waist while suppressing a quiet giggle when she realizes her attempts are futile — and that she made it all worse because now, Lando pulls her in, resting half of his body weight on her.

“Lan… ” she cries in a sleepy voice, lifting her hand to brush stray curls off his forehead. “Baby, you’re suffocating me,” she tries again, feeling Lando anchoring himself tighter around her waist.

His brows furrow in mild protest while he stirs slightly, as if he can already sense she's trying to get away. However, he gently presses his nose on her skin, muttering something incoherent in a sleepy, low voice. Even in his half-awake state, his thumb is making languid circles over her skin, just to remind himself that she's there, in his arms. There’s a spark in his touch, a warmth that seems to spread like wildfire, and she can feel it.

The girl decides to give it one more try, his name falling from her lips in a loving whisper.

“Mhm… ‘m heavy?” he asks.

She puffs out a chuckle, “A little, but the heat bothers me more.”

Lando lets out a soft chuckle, pushing the blanket off in a swift move, the air in the room immediately feeling cooler against their bare skin.

“Better?” his voice is a gritty, gravelly whisper that feels like sandpaper against her skin after being warmed by him.

The girl gasps in surprise, laughing at the sudden change in temperature, “Lando, we’re fucking naked. Put it back!”

“Oh, now you’re worried?” he asks, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her shoulder.

His eyes finally flutter open, sleepy yet filled with a familiar mischief. A lazy grin spreads across his face as he locks eyes with her, a quiet intensity lingering just beneath the surface. His fingers move along her body in a way that makes her shudder as his hand goes up her side. His gaze never leaves hers, glimmering with a glow of want and danger.

“Of course I am. We all get self-conscious in the daylight,” she admits, reaching for the blanket to put it back over them.

Lando stops her just in time, holding the velvety material out of the way. He leans over her on his forearms, loving how quickly she changed her mind just because she got shy from his intense staring session.

“I wanna see you.”

“No,” she protests, pullig him in, so his chest could cover hers.

“What do you mean no?” he chuckles. “I've had your thighs around my face last night, but now you're getting self-conscious?”

“It doesn't matter. I’m still shy,” she whispers.

The distance between them vanishes in an instant, his fingers running through her hair, while his lips are slightly brushing against hers, meaning to meet in a deep, tender kiss that is infused with the passion and hunger of the night before. But Lando has other plans. On one hand, he wants to kiss all the shyness away, to show her that there is nothing she should worry about, because she'll be beautiful in his eyes no matter what, day and night, and always.

On the other hand, he knows it's his job as a man and as her boyfriend to make her feel comfortable in her own body — a body that he worships with every chance he gets. He loves the constellations on her back, the softness of her legs, and the way she fits perfectly with him.

If he wouldn't know better, he'd say they were made for each other, in every aspect.

Lando watches her as she closes her eyes, knowing she's expecting him to kiss her. Instead, he chooses to study her face, closely, like he's never done it before, taking in every detail, from the tiny mole under her left eye and her rose lips that can do so much damage to him, to the marks he left over her neck and shoulders the night before.

Without thinking twice, he traces his finger over some of the darkened spots, taking in every part of her that he’s made his own — an artist admiring his own work.

“You’re mesmerizing.”

It's the last thing she expects him to say. Usually, he'd call her beautiful or breathtaking, but this time the compliment goes behind the surface. He knows he could look at her for hours, without getting bored. It means that, in the daylight, he is finally able to see something more profound.

She can’t help but let out a sigh in protest, but still smiles in return, “Shut up.”

“And all mine, yes?” he adds, letting his eyes slide down her bare chest, following each line and curve.

She nods, “You know it.”

It’s making him crazy — the way her body lays out under him, and the way he can clearly see the result of his need, desire and hunger on her skin. He’s speechless for a while, his mind filled with one lonely thought: her.

Her eyes snap open the moment she feels his hand gently squeezing one of her breasts, caressing her nipple with his thumb.

“Did I hurt you, baby?” he asks softly, pressing a finger into one of the hickeys that ended up looking like a little, weirdly shaped heart.

Her soft wince takes them both by surprise, a sudden wave of guilt washing over Lando at the thought that he could hurt her unintentionally.

“I’m fine,” the girl tries to assure him, but he frowns, already beating himself up for losing control like that.

He can't help it, though.

“I’m so sorry, I—”

“Don't,” she cuts him off, “You didn’t hurt me, I promise. Plus, I got you good, too,” she says, running the pads of her fingers over the crimson fingernail marks left on his shoulders.

He can hear the sweetness in her voice, all the guilt melting away in an instant. From there, Lando moves with an intensity and skill that is all too familiar — as if he were on the track, determined to put together the perfect lap.

He presses his lips on her silky skin, desperately wanting to soothe her. To continue to worship her. To thank her for existing and choosing him to share herself with.

“If it hurts later...” Lando begins, raising his head to look at his girlfriend.

Her hand glides up to cup his chin in her palm, “It'll be a reminder of how good you make me feel every single time,” she finishes his sentence, finally pulling him in for a kiss.

At the sound of her words, a low moan slips from his throat into her mouth, the simple affirmation enough to make Lando lose it. Her hands land on his shoulders, pulling him as close to her as possible. The eagerness is making him so desperate, wanting to feel the connection in every vital point of his body.

She wraps her legs around his waist, while Lando's hand travels up to hold the side of her neck, his tongue delving into her mouth into a messy kiss. Another moan escapes through her lips this time, the second she feels his hand slightly squeezing her.

As he deepens the kiss with a smile on his lips, she tries to speak, hardly able to form more words, her voice vanishing into a gentle moan.

This time, the race is different, and he is not in a haste to finish, enjoying every turn with an air of confidence that is unmistakably Lando. He seems to be able to read her so easily, even when she goes non-verbal, because it feels so good to have him on top.

With every touch and every inch of him, they fall into harmony. With each heartbeat and kiss, the low hum of energy between them intensifies until the world beyond their entwined bodies disappears into a fuzzy, faraway blur.

It's just them and the need to crawl under each other's skin.

His palm moves to cradle her face as he brings her closer, causing her to catch her breath and quiver. Her senses are sharpened, each gentle touch and soft sound more vivid than the previous, and she feels herself immersing herself in the present. In him. Entirely.

Lando feels her body arching up against his, a reflex reaction when he puts a little pressure between her legs. His tongue pushes deeper into her mouth, his hips rolling against hers, a low moan coming from the back of his throat.

“Your mouth…,” she exhales breathlessly, raising her hips to meet his halfway.

As a result of countless nights spent together, Lando gets the memo without her needing to elaborate. He became a pro at reading her body language like it's an open book, which makes him smirk, so proud he manages to understand her needs from a simple movement.

His lips are traveling south, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When she feels his hot breath hoovering above her thighs, her fingers find home in his hair, guiding Lando where she needs him most. His mind goes blank as soon as he feels her warmth, the taste of her flooding his senses.

He buries his face further, his tongue lapping at her intently, wanting to feel more of her. Much, much more. One of his hands moves down to her hips, anchoring them to the bed as he smiles at the sound of her soft whining — his favorite melody.

As soon as she starts to wiggle under his touch, his tongue begins circling, delving deeper than before. Her taste drives him wild while his mouth is making little wet noises against her.

“So sweet and warm f'me, aren't you?” he asks rhetorically, bringing his free hand between her thighs. “Fucking hell,” he lets out a breathy exhale, his thumb moving to rub against her clit, while two of his fingers push slowly inside.

She uses a hand to grip the sheets just as Lando pulls back a little, keeping his fingers thrusting in and out at an increasing pace that make her toes curl.

“Baby…,” she sucks in a breath, feeling the pressure building slowly, but surely.

“I know, baby,” he whispers, rolling back on top of her to muffle her moans with a furtive kiss. “You're so pretty, you know that? So pretty, taking my fingers so well.”

“Lando, please,” she whines, moving her hips in unison with his hand, trying to catch the wave that she's been chasing ever since she felt his tongue on her pussy.

Lando bites his lower lip in an attempt to hide his smile; he loves to see her losing herself like that only from his fingers.

“Mhm, you take what you need, yeah? Fuck my fingers, that's it.”

She arches against his hand harder, bringing her arms around Lando's neck for more stability. He lets his forehead drop on hers, their breaths blending together while she pants at his encouragements. Their lips come in contact once more, as Lando slows her down with the other hand on her hip, gripping her tightly to gently pull out his fingers.

The sudden emptiness forces her to let a cry out, her pussy clenching down hard on nothing.

“Don't piss me off,” she warns, wrapping her fingers around his neck, bringing his mouth to hers with the aggression of a needy woman that knows what she wants.

The kiss hits like a turbocharger at peak RPM, fast and powerful, leaving them breathless in its wake, their minds spinning wildly like they are racing against time.

“Need to be inside you,” he chuckles at her eagerness, pumping himself in his hand a few times before rubbing the head of his cock over her needy core to spread the wetness.

The feeling leaves her almost breathless, her thighs wanting to press together instinctively, until Lando stops them with a firm grip.

He lets out a noisy moan into her neck, her body making him feel like he's sinking, the feeling of her walls squeezing him bringing up all the memories from last night. Lando buries his face in her chest, trying to steady himself, but it's a losing game.

He's already a goner.

“How are you always this tight around me, baby, fuck,” he pants, breathing wetly against her skin.

Every cell in her body feels like it's on fire, his words far from being registered in her head. Instead, she spreads her legs wider, making more room for him to fill her up completely, inch by inch.

“Shit, it feels so good. You feel so good, please,” she continues begging, because there's nothing else she can do. Except raising her hips to push back against his thrusts as he finally starts moving.

The sound of skin on skin reverberates around the quiet room, peppered with occasional whimpers and Lando's low moans. It's almost too much, but that doesn't stop her from meeting her boyfriend halfway. Quite the opposite. She's aware she's ruining the sheets with how wet she is, her pussy dripping with both their juices. But seeing the look on his face while he drives her it's enough to simply not care about the mess they're making.

“Fuck, that's it, baby. Like that,” he moans, gripping her thighs, partially to hit her with hard, long strokes, that he knows it drives her wild. But mostly because he needs something to hold on to.

Soon enough, Lando's breath starts coming out in quick, hot pants, his free hand clutching at the sheets by her head. His body is on fire, being able to feel her raw and see her face change with pleasure every time he hits her sweet spot. His eyes squeeze shut, the build-up almost too much for him to not lose it.

“Fuck, baby, you're killing me. Squeezing me so tight, I'm not. Gonna. Last,” he admits, accentuating the words with each hard thrust.

“Don't hold back, please. Please, don't stop…,” her words fade at the intensity of the warm knot that forms in her stomach, her legs tightening more around him.

“Yeah? You want to come, baby?” he asks, fucking his cock deeply into her, making her squeeze her eyes shut at the feeling, while her nails are slowly digging into his back.

She doesn't have time to feel bad for causing new scratches on top of his old ones as pleasure meets pain at its sweetest level. He's not bothered in the slightest, too preocupied to enjoy her, his focus on how every inch of his length gets hugged by her walls so tightly.

“I'm… Oh, yes! Fuck. I'm so close,” she moans, her mind going numb, letting her breath out in short spasms.

He hears the desperation in her voice, which makes him picking up the pace, bringing his hand between their bodies so he could rub her clit in a ferm, circular motion.

With that, it's enough for her to let out a string of moans as she comes hard around his cock. Her mind wanders through spaces filled with pure pleasure, feeling her heart pounding in her chest.

The sight of her drives him crazy, determined to reach his release while she still has that satisfied look on her face. Lando starts fucking her harder, pressing their bodies roughly into the mattress as he mumbles filthy words in her ear, that she's too dizzy to decipher.

“So fucking pretty when you come, my baby.”

His baby.

“Yours,” she agrees, her mouth parting slightly at the feeling of his hands roaming everywhere on her body.

She knows he's close, judging by the sloppy thrusts he's struggling to keep under control. But control is overrated, anyway. And it only takes a couple more until hot shots are spilling deep inside, filling her up.

“Fucking hell,” Lando exhales, collapsing on top of her, his cock throbbing against her walls, too sensitive to pull out right away.

She wraps her arms around her boyfriend, kissing his forehead, his cheek, and shoulder, their heavy breaths echoing throughout the bedroom.

He swallows hard, completely spent, running his arm up and down her side, while her hand ends up in his hair, pushing his curls out of the way so she could look at him.

“Should we go get coffee?” she asks matter-of-factly, her genuinely curious tone making Lando laugh.

“After I take you from behind?”

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2024

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Unshaken Loyalty

Word count: 660

Summary: After being betrayed by her best friend and abandoned by others, Y/n finds unwavering support in Lewis.

________________________________________________________

The evening air was thick with tension as you sat on the plush sofa in Lewis Hamilton’s London apartment, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees. The glow of the city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows did little to comfort you, and your mind was a storm of emotions.

Your best friend—former best friend—Emilia had betrayed you in a way you hadn’t thought possible. She had not only turned on you but convinced several of your closest friends to do the same, spreading lies that painted you as someone you weren’t. People you’d trusted now gave you cold shoulders and side-eyed glances, and Emilia? She acted like she’d won some sort of twisted game.

You wiped a tear off your cheek, frustrated with yourself for still caring so much. Lewis, who had been sitting quietly beside you, finally shifted closer.

“Talk to me, love,” he said softly, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves.

You sniffled, keeping your gaze on the floor. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s hurting you.”

You hesitated before the words tumbled out in a rush. “I just don’t understand what I did wrong. Emilia was supposed to be my best friend, and now she’s turned everyone else against me. She made me feel like I was… like I wasn’t enough. Like I was just this awful person who deserved it.”

Lewis’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he listened. “That’s bullshit,” he said firmly.

You blinked at him, startled by the sudden edge in his voice.

He turned to face you fully, his dark eyes burning with intensity. “Listen to me, Y/n. Whatever Emilia said, whatever those so-called ‘friends’ are saying, none of it defines who you are. You are one of the most beautiful, kind, and genuine people I’ve ever met. Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to be in your life.”

You tried to protest, but he wasn’t having it.

“No,” he said, cutting you off gently but firmly. “You don’t get to argue with me on this. Emilia? Toxic. The people who believed her? Even more toxic. And you? You’re worth a hundred of them. Do you hear me?”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain. “I just… I don’t know why this hurts so much. I thought she cared about me.”

Lewis reached out, taking your hands in his. His touch was warm, grounding. “Because you care, Y/n. That’s who you are. You see the good in people, even when they don’t deserve it. And yeah, that makes it hurt more when someone like Emilia betrays you. But that doesn’t mean you’re the problem. It means you’ve got a heart that’s too good for people like her.”

You let out a shaky breath, the tightness in your chest easing just a little. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said, his voice resolute. “You’re worth fighting for, Y/n. Every single time. If I have to tell Emilia and the rest of them to piss off, I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll fight them myself if that’s what it takes to make you see how incredible you are.”

A surprised laugh bubbled out of you, and Lewis smiled, his expression softening.

“There she is,” he said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s the smile I love.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you protectively. “Thank you,” you murmured.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’ve got your back, always. You’re stuck with me, like it or not.”

The hurt Emilia had caused didn’t disappear entirely, but it felt smaller, more manageable.

[finifugue]

The Pitch of the Shrieks - Some Thoughts on Fandom and Fans

I like Lando Norris, but don't worry. I'm not one of those fans.

You know, those fans? The crazy, delusional ones? The ones who think that he's a good driver, the ones who watched Drive to Survive and thought he was hot? The ones who were excited that he was fighting for a championship? Ha! Those fans are horrible, I hate them, they're completely insane. I'm a Lando fan, but I'm not one of those fans, don't worry.

Sometimes I wonder why fans of other drivers are allowed to be delusional, though. Why other drivers' fans can do equations to prove that they can still win the WDC, but if I say I think Lando might still have a shot, I'll be told to kill myself. Why another driver making a mistake is an unlucky miss, but Lando making a mistake is proof that his delusional evil stupid fans are clearly so insane for thinking he's a good driver that they shouldn't even be watching the sport. Why, when we're all in the same circus, Lando fans are so often laughed at the most. Don't worry, though! I'm a Lando fan, but I'm not one of those fans.

Who are those fans?

"the pitch of the shrieks makes all the difference—male fans are not punished or shamed for their fandom involvement, while female fans are."

Oh. Those fans.

Those fans are stupid. They don't care about the racing. They don't actually care about the drivers. They just want their precious Lando to win because they think he's hot! Those stupid delusional fans. Those evil dumb useless women invading our space and daring to think a driver is good.

Those dumb fucking females daring to pretend to be interested in sport.

I hate Lando Norris. I hate Lando Norris and his stupid fucking delusional evil fangirls. I hate Lando Norris because his fucking fangirls are so delusional, they hope he's going to win, what kind of fucking fan hopes a driver will win? His delusional fangirls who only like him because he's hot, because they couldn't possibly watch the sport for any other reason.

I hate Lando Norris fangirls because they're all whiny delusional stupid girls, and you know what? I think Charles fangirls are stupid, too, they only like him because he's hot, too! Fuck Charles fangirls and Lando fangirls- girls like Lewis as well? Well, they must be stupid, I fucking hate fangirls and how they're ruining this sport. What other drivers do those evil fucking stupid useless bitch fucking whining girls like? I'm sure they're useless and stupid and the girls only like them because they're hot. I fucking hate fangirls.

I fucking hate girls.

.

.

(source and disclaimer under the cut)

Source

I will once again reiterate that Lando is not a perfect person and deserves valid criticism and skepticism, just like every other driver. However, a lot of hatred of him does stem from real studied ways in which female fans and fandoms are treated and thought about, and to pretend that isn't the case is to ignore one of the biggest issues in f1 as both a fandom and industry. If you have found yourself separating the ways certain fans (not just Lando fans) act from the ways the rest of the fandom acts, maybe consider what biases you're subconsciously sustaining.

[skitskatdacat63]

Downloaded a bunch of overlays and am now having a moment™

[sports-on-sundays]

and I can change / CL16 / Part 2

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - Charles would do anything to convince you to forgive him. He'd do anything to revive his family.

Warnings: Again, Y/s/n is 'your son's name'. And again, his age is unspecified- you decide what you think. crying (LOTS of crying), mention of drunkenness, mention of sex, mention of cheating, broken relationships, broken family, censored cussing

Requested?: Yeah! Requested by some sweet souls who read part 1! @barcelonaloverf1life @architect-2015 @emz2092 @cilliansgirl @lunamelona @lightdragonrayne @leclercgirl16

Author's Note: You guys asked for it, so I gave it! I hope you enjoy! Same song as inspiration. Also I'm thinking after this part I'll write a part 3, and then after that maybe a little epilogue, to wrap this up. Tell me what you think. Also, this is the link to part 1 / and the link to part 3

"Y/n, people change.

"And I can change, too."

You lay on your bed, engulfed in the darkness of the room surrounding you. The darkness seems to go deeper than just your surroundings- deeper, and into you.

Over and over the scene plays through your mind. Those words that Charles had uttered. The way he had clutched your hand in both of his, as if it were his only lifeline. In that moment, the desperation his eyes had denoted was incredible.

Charles, why? Why couldn't you let go? You're making it all so much more complicated.

But you know what he would say. Why? Why, Y/n? Because this isn't just about myself. Don't you see the brokenness in our son? Don't you see it?

Guilt washes over you, and then rage.

I shouldn't be the one feeling guilt. He should. He's the one who messed up our family. He's the one who's fault it is!

The way he cried, though.

The desperation.

The thing is that he is feeling guilty. Or at least so it seemed.

But does he really deserve a second chance? Do you?

Your phone rings at 12:00 A.M. On the dot. Charles has always been on the dot. Unless he's drunk, that is.

Why is he calling?

Right when I'm thinking about him, too.

Although this really isn't too surprising, when you consider it. For the past week and a half or so, you've stayed up until roughly 2:00 in the morning, staring at the ceiling, thinking, unable to convince yourself into peace and slumber.

And now a call comes.

Charles, why?

It feels terrible as you answer. "Charles. Don't call me."

"Y/n," he says in a calm voice. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you snap, trying to keep it down. Your son is sleeping (hopefully) in the next room.

"For reacting so emotionally. I'm sorry. For years this has weighed on me, but crying and begging won't get us anywhere."

"We're not going anywhere, whether you cry and beg or not." You hang up.

A month after that call where you rejected Charles for what you hoped would be the last time, there's a knock on the door on a Saturday. You walk to it, and freeze when you look through the peephole.

Why is Charles Leclerc here?

Anxiety hits you. The house is a mess, you've got no food to give him, you look like a mess in your pajamas and unbrushed hair-

How can he just show up at your door like this?

It's obnoxious.

You honestly are about to pretend you aren't home, but then Y/s/n suddenly runs in, squealing, "Mama, who is it?! Is it the mailman?"

You sigh at your son's strange fascination for the mailman. You're not completely sure why he enjoys the young, dry, monotone mailman, and for years just assumed because he was generally a nice bloke, and little kids are weird, until you realized with an ounce of dread that the mailman resembles Charles, in a way. After that, you've never encouraged his enthusiasm for the mailman, just in case that was the reason, whether conscious or not.

"No, no," you sigh, unlocking the door. "It's not the mailman, love."

"Who is it, Mama?"

As you swing the door open, you murmur, "Well, love, none other but your father."

"Daddy!" the little boy, still in his Lightning McQueen pajamas, squeals, running to hug his father. You glance away, staring at the floor.

Charles hugs your son, kissing him, and exclaims, "Aw, there's my little buddy! How are you, man?"

"I'm good, Daddy! Are you coming to live here now, Daddy?!"

"Ugh- Not quite..." He picks up your son, and looks to you, immediately saying, "Sorry it's such short notice."

You grit your teeth, murmuring, "You mean no notice?"

"Right," he nods with a quick exhale.

While the presence of your son is a burden for you, preventing you from showing your true feelings, it may be an advantage for Charles, to get across what he needs to get across. Whatever that may be.

Because this is all just a game. Everyone with their own different motives. Y/s/n wants Mama and Daddy to love each other because he wants one place to live. Charles' motives are unknown, but probably are just manipulative and selfish- about making himself feel better. And your motive? You don't want to relive the past, so will avoid Charles at all costs.

Charles' and Y/s/n's motives align more with each other than your's.

You look at your son. Who you love so much. He looks at you with hope. Charles looks at you with... a very similar expression.

These two.

How can you love one and hate the other?

They're both family, as much as you hate to admit it. Because one of them, you wish you could erase.

No. But you don't. Because if you'd never met Charles, Y/s/n would never have been born. And you can't even begin to imagine your life without him.

You hold the door open, and gesture to the couch. "Sit down, Charles. I'm going to get dressed, and then put the kettle on." You say all this through gritted teeth.

How can he just walk in as if he owns the place?

He nods. "Thank you, Y/n." You watch in the doorway to the hall as Charles sits down on the couch with his son on his lap. You watch as he says softly, picking up a toy car from off the rug, "This car is awesome, Y/s/n. Where'd you get it?"

"Mama got it for me! For my birthday!" Y/s/n takes it from his father's hand with much pride, and starts driving it across Charles' chest, up onto his neck, and eventually onto his cheeks. The whole time, Charles laughs, his hand on his son's back to keep him from tipping off his lap.

"That's a super cool car. Does it have a name?"

"Uhhh," Y/s/n frowns. "Zoom! Because he goes zooooom!"

"Oh, it's a he?"

"Of course," Y/s/n says, as if this fact should be obvious. Then he giggles, "Because girls smell."

"They smell?! No way. Girls don't smell."

"Yeah, they do," he crosses his arms, frowning at his father. "You don't know any girls. You only know... Uh, Cah-los."

Charles laughs out loud. "The only person I know is 'Cah-los'?"

"Yep! And Uncle Arthur and Uncle Lorenzo, but that's it!" your son claims in a very matter-of-fact tone.

Their conversation continues, but you finally turn to leave and get yourself fixed up. You quickly shower, brush your teeth and hair, put on moisturizing cream, perfume, and deodorant, and put on a beige hoodie, grey sweatpants, and slides, before going to make tea. The whole time, you mind swirls.

Why is he here? Why is he here on a Saturday? Why is he here, without even asking to come? It's so... obnoxious.

You finish making two cups of tea, finding with awe as you make them that you remember exactly the way Charles likes his tea, and you're doing it automatically.

Because I used to do this so much.

You walk back in with the tea and see the two boys sitting on the rug now. Charles is tickling Y/s/n's tummy, and both of them are laughing- Charles with more of a chuckle and Y/s/n with more of a squealing giggle. When Charles sees you, he slowly stops, saying with a little sigh, "Alright, bud. Mama's back with my tea, and I mean to drink it."

"But Daddyyy!"

"Nope!" he grins, standing up, ruffling his son's messy hair. He then walks to you, and you hand him his tea. He lights up when he tastes the tea and looks at you, muttering softly, "My God, you remembered how I like my tea...?"

"Don't jump to sh*t, Charles," you murmur, soft enough for Y/s/n not to hear.

"Right," he sighs, sitting down again on the couch.

You set your tea down, walking to your son. "Alright, love. I want you to go in your room now, okay? Remember the Lego plane you were building? Why don't you work on that? I want to see it once it's finished, okay? And if you need anything, call, okay? Don't come in here. Just call, and one of us will come."

He looks questioningly. "Why, Mama?"

"Me and your father have important things to talk about. And if you don't listen, there will be consequences."

He blinks, pouting.

"I'll turn on your storybook audio for you. Come on." You bring him to his room and get him set up, until you're sure he's completely distracted with the Legos and the storybook. Only then do you come back to the living room and sit down awkwardly next to Charles.

He's still wearing his red windbreaker from when he was outside, and a black scarf hangs loose around his neck. His hair is a bit messed up, but he looks perfect, like always.

Too perfect.

"Let me take your scarf and jacket. And your shoes."

"Right," he says with a swift nod, handing you his scarf, coat, and sleek black boots. You put them by the door, and sit down, viewing the cozy grey sweater adorning his frame. You have a passing thought, considering how much unnecessary money he might have spent on such a garment.

"So?" you ask in a tense voice. "What is this all about, Charles?"

"There are some things we need to work out. You're right- one of the many things I've done wrong to you is always being a f*cking coward. You're right. I didn't say what was on my mind, and I faked it, and I kept quiet, because I didn't want to upset you. But now I see that the only thing I can do now is speak up, be honest, and be a man. You rightfully left me because I wasn't being a proper man. I wasn't being your proper man. I was being a terrible husband and a terrible father. But now we need to uncover what's true- we both have different views, both of which are likely exaggerated or incorrect in different ways."

"I don't care, Charles," you say quickly, flat out trying to ignore his admittance to wrong. Perhaps because you don't want it to be true. Because if he's sorry, that means you have to forgive him.

"So you're telling me you'd rather believe lies, just because it makes you feel better? What kind of thinking is that?"

You hate to admit that he's right. So you say nothing.

There's silence. But then he says, "So tell me what happened."

"You know what happen-"

"Tell me, Y/n." His voice isn't rude, but definitely firm.

You swallow, shaking your head. You don't want to work this out. You want to forget Charles. But clearly, that's impossible. "You were irresponsible. You'd get drunk, never be home, never help me. I'd be all on my own... You... You'd use me for your own pleasure but never show true, selfless love... Then you came home drunk saying stuff about a pretty woman and sex and getting pregnant... So you cheated... And I divorced you because I couldn't take it any more." You can't believe it, but you're trying not to choke up as you whisper, "Charles, what we had seemed perfect. Until you messed it up." Your mouth tastes like poison.

Charles stares down, his eyes swirling with everything but empty, at the same time. "Y/n," he whispers. "I was terrible. You're right. I was never around because I was immature and scared. I didn't understand. To get away from it, I drank and had fun with friends."

Your lip curls. "You're not the victim."

"And I never said I was! I was scared of being a father. I was scared of messing up. I wasn't ready and I let everything happen too quickly. I was a coward and I left you. Even though you divorced me, I was the one who left you. That's what happened. I was stupid. I was a terrible person. It's all my fault."

"Why would you be any different now? There's no way for you to prove that. Before the marriage you were fine. It was when we married that you went downhill. It was like... you couldn't stand me."

He looks torn apart. "I loved you. I... I... I still do. I knew I wasn't being a good husband or father and to forget about it, I drank."

"And why wouldn't you still do it now?!"

"Because I don't. I feel more guilt now than I did then! I feel more responsibility now than I did then! And that was my greatest fear! Responsibility! But now I don't drink excessively! Now I don't avoid reality! Because I need you... Our son needs us. Together. Don't you need me?"

"Not the you I know."

"You don't know me anymore. I'm not the same person I was." His voice is so uncommonly firm, it slightly shocks you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

He goes on, "That night, I didn't cheat. I was intoxicated. A young woman was trying to seduce me, but I refused because I had you. You, my beautiful wife, both inside and out. I wanted to convey to you that I said no because you were my wife. However, I failed to communicate this properly, and the next morning, I had completely forgotten the conversation. I chose not to tell you because I thought it would be better if you didn't know. I was afraid you would be angrier with me for being in that situation. I was a coward, and I didn't want you to be upset with me. I didn't realize for years that you believed I had cheated. If I had known, I would have assured you that I didn't cheat, just like I am doing now, and that I never would. Because I didn't. Despite all the mistakes I made, cheating on you is something I would never, ever do. I have always loved you, and only you, far too much for that."

Your hands tremble in your lap as you stare at him, listening.

Now you're the one getting emotional.

Charles leans in close to you- too close for comfort- and whispers, "I've changed... Please. I just want a second chance... To right my wrongs and give you and our son the lives you deserve. I need to give my all to you... I need to make it up to you... It's... It's crushing me."

"Why do you need a second chance?" Your voice, for once, isn't aggressive. It's gentle. Softer. Your voice cracks as you say, "You should have done it right the first time."

You see him swallow. "And you know what? I didn't. I f*cked up. I f*cked up everything. I f*cked up your life and I know it. I'm sorry. I wish I could go back in time and fix it and make it all better. I was stupid, Y/n. I was terrible. I hurt the most beautiful woman and her baby in the world. I'm the least." He takes your hand again in both his, but this time it's a gentler grasp.

"But you're not. You're famous. You have so many fans."

"Do you know how many times I've thought I don't deserve all this? If only I could share it all with you."

"Charles," your voice cracks again, and an unexpected, terrible longing fills you. "I want to believe you, but I can't. I'm broken, Charles, because of you. I can't afford to let you break me again..."

A tear rolls down your cheeks, and immediately he reaches up with his thumb, gently wiping your cheek, "No, Y/n, please don't cry... I don't want you to cry because of me any longer... Please..."

"Charles, I can't do this..." more tears fall.

There's hurt and confusion, but mostly longing and guilt in his eyes. "Please... If you'd only trust me, then we could make this right. I could make this right, after all I did wrong."

You can hardly believe yourself as you let your broken, silently crying self fall into Charles. You allow yourself to rest your head on his shoulder, and you allow his arms to wrap around you, giving you his warmth. "Charles..."

"Yes...?" There's a painful hope in his voice.

"I don't know if I can do this..." you cry into his shoulder now.

He whispers right in your ear, "Just give me a chance. Let me be there for you... Let me prove to you... Let me..."

You can't give him a yes or a no. Two sides war inside you- the mask and the face. You feel him stroke your hair as you cry, at the same time as remembering stroking his hair when he was drunk and needed comfort.

This is some sort of paradox, isn't it?

"Charles," you murmur, leaning away after you've gained control of yourself. "The answer is 'I don't know' right now, okay... Consider it... better than hating your guts with an adamant 'no.'"

As he gazes into your eyes, he leans closer. Softly, he places a tender kiss on your cheek and whispers, "I'll be ready whenever you are. And I'll never, ever stop waiting for you."

Weeks pass, and Charles can't understand why, after all that happened that day, still you insist on avoiding him like the plague.

Well, the reason is just that- avoidance. You're avoiding Charles because you don't want to face the possible truth. You're avoiding him because you don't want to make big decisions. You don't want to try again. You don't want to...

Well, you don't want to fall in love again.

And on that day, the way he treated you...

It reminded you of the man you married, and not the man you divorced.

And that scares you. Because you'll never forget the man you divorced.

So you're stubborn and resistent, and you're avoiding him.

So you sit, staring at the screen of your cell phone. Rereading the text on it. Over and over.

Charles Leclerc: I'm sorry for such a long text Y/n but you probably won't read it anyway, so what does it matter? I need to talk with you and you're doing exactly what I've done, what I'm apologizing for. For years I avoided this stuff and one of the reasons we split was that i couldn't stand up and address and tell you my problems. I was being a f*cking coward. And I've said sorry more times than I can count. I thought you might be on the road to forgiveness, to giving me a second chance. I know you felt the same way as me when you leaned into me and let me hold you when you cried- there's something more here, and I don't want you to ignore this. Can't we just try this? Please Y/n? I'm finally willing to step up, be a man, work through all this sh*t with you. Talk about it. I'm finally willing to be brave, and as soon as I am, you're doing the same thing you've yelled at me for years for doing- staying silent.

Charles Leclerc: I love you, Y/n, and this is a problem I desperately want to fix, but the truth of the matter is that you're being a f*cking hypocrite.

Me: How does it feel to be in the position you put me in for years?

You feel mean for typing that, and you're not sure how much you mean it. Maybe you meant to be kinder.

But the anger took over and your thumbs did the talking.

Charles leaves that message on read.

You sit in the cold metal chair, surrounded by pudgy, middle-aged parents and their gross kids all around you as a lone young mother sitting by herself. You're only here to see your son, and none of the other aspects of this situation bring you an ounce of joy.

All of a sudden, a shiver runs down your spine as a firm hand gently lands on your shoulder. Your head snaps up, meeting the gaze of Charles Leclerc. A look of disdain crosses your face, causing your heart to ache as you bluntly ask, "Why are you here?"

Charles takes a seat beside you in the vacant chair and casually remarks, "I've come to attend my son's school concert. And you?" A glimmer of amusement dances in his eyes.

Your jaw tightens in pure irritation, and you manage through gritted teeth in a tense, quiet tone, "Why did you choose to sit next to me?"

Charles hesitates, his expression softening, as he makes an effort to hold your gaze. "Well... Because I..." He swallows and says, "I'm not going to give up on you. That's why. So I figured I'd sit down next to you to watch my- our- son's concert. So..." Abruptly, he reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The veins in his hand are visible as he clasps yours tightly.

Your muscles tense, yet for some reason, you don't pull your hand away.

So throughout the whole school concert, Charles sits, gripping your hand, and seems to refuse to let it go.

And the moment the teacher is done on stage after the little production, thanking people for helping and the kids for doing such a great job and other stuff you don't listen to, Charles turns to you and says, "So, we have some minutes to spare."

Your eyebrows scrunch together. "Come again?"

He chuckles, but it doesn't feel called for. "You weren't listening to her? She said the students can be picked up from their classrooms by their parents in fifteen minutes."

Your jaw clenches again. "Charles, why?"

"Because I know you want it," he says incredibly earnestly. The inside of your heart melts as the outside hardens.

"But I don't think I do."

"But I know you do. Now come on." Your ex-husband stand up, pulling you up with him.

"Where are we going?" you ask. "And please let go of my hand. You've been holding it so long, it's starting to get sweaty."

He clicks his tongue and doesn't respond to either of these, then guides you down various hallways until you reach the school's exit. Finally, he sits down with you on a bench outside the school, and releases your hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's just hang out here for the next ten minutes, okay? We should talk," he says awkwardly, facing you.

"I don't get it. Charles, there's nothing you can do to-"

Charles interrupts, holding your face gently, gazing into your eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say that," he pleads, his thumb brushing your cheek. "There's something we can do. We can make this work... Please..."

His desperation, his begging, makes you want to cry. "Please just let it go... Let me go..."

"No, I don't want you to be trapped... Don't you see you'll be more free with me? You won't have to work as hard.. I'll take care of you and our son... I'll take half the work in the house you have to deal with... I'll... We'll... I just want you to believe that we'll be happier... I'm not saying we need to jump to anything today. I'm just saying, let's be kind to each other... Let's go out to eat sometimes, or go to our son's events together. Let's act just a little bit more like a family, even if we aren't yet. I just want to- I need to- I- I- I..." He trails off. His hands fall off your cheeks, and his shoulders slack. His head goes down.

It's like just the hard look in your eyes alone crushed him.

Like that alone is the huge weight he's bearing.

"F*** me, Y/n... F*** me," he whispers, his hands in his lap trembling. "I don't deserve you. I hurt you. Doesn't matter how much I changed. I still have to live through the consequences of my actions, don't I?" He seems to be talking more to himself, but you have no idea at this point. "Just f*** me." He exhales shakily, before suddenly standing up. He stares you right in your eyes, and your heart breaks when you see the hurt, the destroyed desperation. "It's fine, Y/n." He's trying to keep a level face. But his voice cracks. "I'll leave you alone. I'll let you go. I can see all this is just hurting you more. I never meant to hurt you more. I never meant to bring up the past to hurt you. I wanted to help you... I wanted to help you heal..." He drags a hand over his face. "But clearly I f***ing didn't. Clearly I messed it up again. I f***ing messed up again." He swallows. His eyes glimmer with wetness as he practically whispers, "The last thing I want is to hurt you. So I'll drop it. I'm just being selfish again, aren't I? I think this would be better, but you don't. And that's hurting you. And I never wanted to..." He swallows, his nose crunching up. Suddenly he yells, "I never wanted to hurt you ever again, because I love you, for f***'s sake! I love you, but I did hurt you, because, in the end, no matter what, I'm going to f*** it up anyway! So bye, Y/n!" Suddenly he turns on his feet. Like he doesn't want you to see him cry again. But you can hear the tears in his voice when the last thing he calls back is, "It will go back to normal, and we can pretend none of this ever happened! Pretend I'm a stranger! It's the best for you, anyway, apparently, and all I wanted was the best for you!"

You stare in shock as you watch him get in his car and drive away. You remain seated, gaze straight ahead. Tears well up in your eyes, and your body quivers, yet you manage to compose yourself, rise on unsteady legs, and compel yourself to return to the school to pick up your son.

But that just wasn't right.

I should have stopped him. I should have called him back. I should've.

How far can revenge go before it's gone too far?

For days, the guilt, the hurt, the rue- they weigh on you. Every moment of your days, it consumes your thoughts. Regret and confusion and anger fill you in every step, engulfing your every move. And if you thought you weren't getting any sleep before, now it's even worse.

You long to fix it, but you are unsure of how. Despite everything... You can't see how Charles isn't being honest. You want to have faith in him. A small part of you may even want to love him, just a little bit.

You're also fearful. Fearful of reaching out to him, because you don't know what you'd do. You have no idea.

But now you're dropping your son off at Charles's house. You swallow, and suddenly, on a whim, when you see Charles walking outside, waiting for Y/s/n, you get out of the car, too.

"Mama?" your son asks with a confused expression, still maintaining a little smile on his face.

You smile back down at him and say, "I'm walking you up to your daddy's house today, is all."

He shrug and nods, apparently accepting this.

He's such a good kid.

As you approach Charles, your smile twitches while you study him, but you say softly, "Hey, um... I... We..." Your tone sounds weak.

"Yes?" Charles asks, looking up. He looks perfect. As always.

Your eyes lock.

Please, Charles. I don't know how to say this. Please just understand.

His eyes remain blank. You let out a sigh.

And suddenly, you hug him.

Charles seems taken aback for only a moment, before he immediately hugs you back and says softly, "Hey... Want to come inside with me and Y/s/n?"

You nod. "Yes... Yes, please."

So Charles leads the two of you up to his flat. You sit down together on the couch, once again.

Last time you did this was the moment Charles cried out to you.

"Y/n, people change."

You swallow at the memory.

Is this another paradox? This time, will I be the one crying out to him?

Y/s/n is about to hop on the couch between you, but suddenly Charles scoops him up and says, "Hey, hey! I didn't get my hug from you yet, did I?!"

Your son giggles, getting comfortable on his father's lap, before giving him a big hug. "I scored a goal, Daddy..."

"You scored a goal?!" he grins. "Seriously?"

"Yeah! Mama cheered me on! I scored a goal when I played football!"

Charles looks so bright. Happy with his son. So proud. He doesn't get to see him as often as you do. "No way. You've got to be joking. Was it the winning goal?"

"Yep!" your son says proudly.

You find yourself smiling.

"Oh yeah, what was the score?"

Your son shrugs. "Dunno! But we won!"

You smile and mutter softly, "I think it was 4-1." Y/s/n plays in the little league team affiliated with his school.

"Yeah, but my goal made it 2-1, so I won it," he brags to his father.

Charles grins. "Oh, I'm sure it did. You know, I don't know where you got that talent for football from. Do you think Mama is good at football?"

Your son just shrugs with a grin, enjoying the affirmation from his father. "Dunno! But Mama is good at cuddling and playing with me."

Charles laughs. "Yeah, your mama takes good care of you." He glances at you with sparkling eyes, before looking back down at his son.

The two continue babbling on about sports and football and what not, until Charles finally ruffles his son's hair and says, "Well, buddy, I reckon it's time for me and Mama to have some alone time."

Y/s/n frowns. "Aw, why?"

"Because I want to talk with Mama about things that you won't care about. Boring grown-up stuff. Doesn't sound very fun, does it?"

Y/s/n shrugs, still looking uncertain.

"Hey, don't look so down. How about this? I'll go put on Cars for you. How's that sound?"

Your son grins at this, immediately jumping up, his demeanor changing abruptly. "Yeah, yeah!" he squeals, and you watch as Charles leaves with him to go set him up with that in another room.

But soon Charles is back. He gently shuts the door behind him as he enters the room, and immediately sits down next to you, facing you once more. "Hey, Y/n..." he says in a tentative but gentle tone.

You swallow. "Hey, Charles..." You feel yourself getting nervous again. "You're so... You're so good with Y/s/n."

He smiles. "You are, too."

There's no, And I'm sure we'd be even better with him together.

Charles meant it when he said he'd give up on it.

But you move closer to him. You take his hands. "This is a lot for me, Charles. I'm scared. I'm having issues with trust."

He nods slowly. "I know... I know..."

You swallow, and hug him again.

He holds you, hugging you back. He kisses your cheek. He whispers, "I understand if you're afraid. I understand if you're scared, or if you're having issues with trust. I'm so deeply sorry I've broken you like that."

Y/n, people change. And I can change.

The words come crashing into your mind like a ton of bricks, emerging from the depths of your memory.

"Charles-" you break in, your voice cracking. "Those words have haunted me."

"What words...?" he mutters softly.

You swallow. Breathe slowly. And you whisper, "You said to me 'Y/n, people change. And I can change.'"

"I have changed," he whispers.

"But," your voice cracks. "You said a lot of other s***, too. I remember, during our honeymoon..." A tear rolls down your face as Charles continues to hold you. "You said I'm yours and you're mine. You said we'd be forever. You said you'd do anything for me. You said we'd have three kids together, and you'd never stop loving me, and we would be a happy family. You said we'd grow old together, Charles. That's what you said. But all those promises- they were broken... They were broken."

"You didn't want them to be," he whispers calmly. "But don't you realize? Perhaps those promises were not broken, but rather, they have just not yet been fulfilled."

You look up at him, blinking. More tears roll down your cheeks. Charles gently wipes them away.

"I want to be able to fix what I did wrong. I want to be able to fulfill those promises I made to you. That's what I want, Y/n."

"Charles..." you breathe.

He looks so perfect.

"Yes?" he asks gently.

Your lip quivers, and you lean into his shoulder, and you sob.

And he lets you.

For however long, he holds you there, rubbing your back, letting you weep. Finally, you get a hold of yourself, and slowly pull away. You wipe your wet eyes with the backs of your hands, before sighing. "Charles, if we were to do this... If I were to give in..." You sniff. Your voice cracks again as you utter, "Please, don't hurt me again. I can't survive it again. I can't let you put me through that again..."

He pulls you to him again and whispers in your ear, "I won't. I won't. I won't let you down this time. Please don't be afraid of me... I want to love you... Let me love you... If you'll just let me, we can fix this... We have have a relationship in which we communicate more. Oh, Y/n..." he sighs. "Don't you realize how much I care? I- I would give my life for you."

You blink, staring at him.

Everything looks so promising. That's why you're scared.

It almost looks too promising.

"You say you would give your life for me. But would you really? Maybe you would you give your life for me if it meant losing it. But would you give your life to me while you're still alive? Would you clean the dishes? Would you help me when I'm sick? Would you grab an extra ingredient from the store if I needed it? Would you drive Y/s/n to school when you could? Would you really? You're gone half the year, as it is."

His jaw clenches, then un-clenches. "I would do anything and everything I could do for you. I want to share my life for you. Until death. And I'm one hundred percent sure on that. I've had years of thinking about this." There's hope in his lovely eyes.

So much hope.

You sigh, staring down at your lap.

"Y/n. I'm sorry. Please. Not only do I need your forgiveness. But your son does, too." He hesitates. "And I hope you know no matter what happens, the guilt of what I've done to you will weigh on me my whole life. That's why I want to fix it."

You gently slip your hand in his and whisper, "Please don't hurt me."

He wraps his fingers around your hand, holding it. "I won't."

You nod slowly, another tear rolls down your cheek, and it feels like all the molecules in your body are being ripped apart as you barely whisper, "Okay, Charles. We can try this again."