#formula 1 fan fiction

[roselilies]

[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 🥵

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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 🤍🎀

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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

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© trashy track tales, 2024

[lxndonorris]

priorities - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Fluff Charles returns home right after the award ceremony due to you being ill word count: 1930+ taglist: @game-set-canet @cloud-55 gif by me open for requests :)

EN: I was, actually still am sick, so I would have loved that. Charles, where were you??

It was a strange mix of emotions—pride and longing—watching Charles accept his trophy for finishing third in the championship. You were curled up on the bed with a blanket wrapped tightly around you, your body battling a persistent flu.

You protested when Charles suggested staying home with you instead of attending the FIA Award Ceremony in Rwanda, but he insisted that you mattered more. 

Of course, you didn't let him.

You practically pushed him out the door, promising to watch the stream and cheer for him from afar.

Now, with the stream paused on your iPad, the image of Charles on stage—dressed impeccably in his black tailored Ferrari suit—etched into your mind, you couldn't help but smile.

He looked breathtaking, even through the screen, the pride radiating from him evident in every gesture. Your heart swelled at the sight of him holding the trophy, but a sharp cough pulled you out of your thoughts, a bitter reminder of why you weren't there to share this moment with him.

Exhaustion took over, and you drifted in and out of sleep, the faint hum of the evening ceremonies filling the background. Time blurred, and you weren't sure how long you'd been half-asleep when a faint sound startles you.

It is the front door opening and closing softly.

Confused, you force yourself to sit up, groggy and disoriented. You tell yourself you are imagining things, but the shuffle of footsteps and the unmistakable clack of a lock being engaged tell you otherwise.

Your heart flutters with both apprehension and hope as you slowly make your way toward the bedroom door. Cracking it open just enough to peek through the gap, you see him.

Charles.

He is still wearing his black Ferrari suit from the ceremony, the faint glow of the hallway light highlighting his sharp features.

He looks incredible; the jacket fitting him like a glove, his tie slightly loosened, and his hair a little tousled from the night. Carefully dragging his suitcase behind him, he clearly tries not to wake you.

You push the door open wider, the hinges creaking softly.

"Charles? What are you doing here?"

He turns sharply, clearly startled, his hand freezing mid-motion as he slips his keys into his pocket. 

"I didn't mean to wake you up," he says, his voice soft and apologetic.

"You didn't," you assure him, though your voice is raspy. "But... why are you here? You should be celebrating."

He blushes slightly, his hand running through his hair in a gesture you know all too well.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he admits. "Worrying about you. So... I came back right away."

A small giggle escapes you, but it quickly turns into a cough. "Don't make me laugh," you protest weakly, and he is by your side in an instant, his warm hand rubbing gentle circles on your back.

"See? This is why I needed to be here," he says with a small smile, his voice teasing but laced with genuine concern.

You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his waist as his scent—woodsy and clean, with just a hint of the cologne he always wears—envelops you.

"You didn't have to," you murmur against his chest. "This was your night to celebrate. You deserved it."

Charles shrugs as if it is nothing, his hands smoothing down your back. 

"It was nice," he admits. "But not as nice as being here with you."

You pull back slightly to look up at him, your chest warming at the sincerity in his gaze.

"You're unbelievable," you whisper, shaking your head.

"And you're sick," he counters, gently leading you back toward the bed. "Come on, back under the covers."

You don't protest as he helps you settle back into the warm cocoon of blankets, propping your pillows up just right. Once you are comfortable, he starts to undress, and you can't help but watch as he works on his tie first, loosening it and pulling it off with practiced ease.

"You looked good tonight," you croak, motioning to the paused stream on your iPad beside the bed.

He glances at the screen and smirks, clearly pleased.

"Did I?"

You nod. 

"incredible. Like a movie star or something."

His expression softens at the sound of your voice, which is still rough from coughing.

"I hate hearing you like this," he says, a small pout forming on his lips as he drapes his tie over a chair.

You roll your eyes playfully, though it takes more effort than usual.

"I'm fine. Just... tired."

Charles doesn't respond immediately, instead focusing on his suit jacket, which he carefully folds and places on the same chair. Then comes the shirt, the buttons undone slowly, his fingers deft and precise.

As the crisp white fabric falls open, revealing his toned chest and the faint tan lines from the season, he glances at you.

"The ceremony was good," he says, continuing the conversation as if he isn't slowly undressing in front of you.

"Max was happy, of course, and Lando and Oscar were joking around like always. But..." He hesitates, sliding the shirt off his shoulders. "It just made me want that first-place trophy even more next year."

You smile at his determination.

"You'll get it," you say with quiet confidence. "I know you will."

His lips curve into a small, grateful smile before he moves on to his belt, the faint clink of the buckle filling the room.

"Thanks," he murmurs, his gaze soft as it meets yours. "That means a lot."

Soon, he is left in just his boxers, his suit pants and shoes set neatly aside. He slips under the blanket beside you, his body warm against yours as he wraps an arm around your waist. 

You try to protest weakly. 

"You shouldn't," you mumble. "You'll get sick too."

"I don't care," he says simply, pulling you closer. "You need me, and I'm here. Besides, I have a good immune system."

He lifts an eyebrow, checking your face for any reaction. You nudge his side playfully, causing him to giggle, his voice melodic as always.

"Un...believable." You sigh, relaxing against him despite yourself.

His presence is like a balm, soothing the aches and chills that have plagued you all day. As his hand traces lazy patterns on your back, you can't help but smile.

Sick or not, having Charles here makes everything feel a little better.

The warmth of his body beside you is comforting, grounding you in the moment despite the haze of sickness and exhaustion. He has one arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you close as if afraid you might slip away.

You feel happy, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest gently against you, yet you can't help but feel a pang of guilt.

"You really should've stayed and celebrated with the others," you murmur, your voice still hoarse but steady enough to convey the weight of your words. "The season was long enough, and you all earned it."

He doesn't respond right away, just smirks that signature Charles smirk—the one that melts your heart every time—and shakes his head. "I'm needed here," he says simply. "What's done is done."

You pout, biting your lower lip.

"You're impossible."

"I know," he teases, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. 

"But I'm your impossible."

A small laugh bubbles up, though it quickly turns into a cough. He frowns instantly, his free hand coming up to rub your back in soothing circles. 

"See? This is exactly why I am here," he says, his accent coming through more pronounced, a sign he's meaning it. "You need someone to take care of you."

You sigh again, knowing there is no point in arguing. Charles is as stubborn as they come, and when it comes to you, his determination knows no bounds. Instead of protesting further, you reach up to cup his cheek, your fingers brushing gently against the warmth of his skin. 

Charles leans into your touch, his lashes fluttering closed for a moment as if savoring the sensation.

"You're too good to me," you whisper, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. 

Your fingers brush over his neatly groomed goatee, marveling at the soft yet slightly coarse texture.

His eyes open, their oceanic depths locking onto yours, and he gives you a look so full of love that it makes your chest ache.

"Not possible," he says, his voice soft but firm.

His hands, warm and steady, rest on your sides and back, pulling you closer until there is hardly any space between you. His scent—clean and undeniably him—wraps around you like another blanket, chasing away the lingering discomfort of your illness.

As you continue caressing his cheek, he turns his head slightly to press a kiss to your wrist, his lips featherlight and warm against your skin.

Your heart swells at the gesture, and you can't resist letting your hand drift lower, your fingers brushing against the firm planes of his chest. His skin is warm to the touch, his muscles taut beneath your palm. 

He lets out a soft laugh, the sound low and melodic, and you glance up at him in surprise.

"Your hands are cold," he protests, his voice tinged with amusement as he catches your hand in his and presses it against his chest, trapping it there.

"Sorry," you murmur, though you can't help but smile.

Charles shakes his head, his smirk softening into a fond smile as he gazes down at you.

"Come here," he said gently, pulling you even closer until you are tucked firmly against him. 

His warmth seeps into you, melting away all the lingering chills in your bones.

You nuzzle into his chest, your cheek resting against the smooth expanse of his skin as you let his steady heartbeat lull you into a sense of calm. His arms wrap around you securely, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your back once more, as if to reassure you of his presence.

"I can see it," you murmur after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're so tired... the flight, the ceremony, worrying about me—it's too much."

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment.

"It's never too much when it's for you," he replies, his voice soft but resolute.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes at his words, but you blink them away, focusing instead on the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you.

You let yourself relax completely in his embrace, your fingers trailing wide circles along his sides as you memorize the feeling of being so close to him.

His breathing begins to even out, the exhaustion finally catching up to him despite the earlier insistence. But even though, part of him moves closer to you: his thighs gently brushing against yours, his chest shifting every so slightly and his fingers grazing along your skin, their movement slowy fading.

You can feel his grip on you loosen slightly, though he doesn't let go entirely, even in his sleep. Pressing a soft kiss to his chest, you allow yourself to succumb to the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat and your own eyes growing heavy as well.

In that moment, with Charles holding you close and the world outside fading away, everything feels perfect. And as you drift off to sleep together, you can't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the man who gave up his night of celebration just to be by your side.

[sports-on-sundays]

McLaren hat / OP81

Summary: Oscar x girlfriend!reader - You never realised how much pressure would come from simply being a Formula 1 WAG, and start to go a little bonkers with all the PR.

Warnings: I don't remember if Abu Dhabi was hot this season (probably like wasn't at all) but just pretend it was okay?, stress, kind of low self image, anxiety, taking great lengths just to feel accepted

Requested?: No

"Hey Y/n- whoa." As soon as Oscar looks up from his phone at you, his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up.

You watch as he looks you over, and immediately say, "Does it look alright?"

"Does it look alright?!" Oscar asks, standing up right away to be in front of you. "Y/n, you look gorgeous." He steps closer, taking your hands, looking at your tight, short black dress, leather boots, and (of course) the McLaren hat upon your head.

"You sure?"

"What do you mean, 'you sure?'?! Of course I'm sure!" he says with a little smile, his eyes returning back to your gaze. "But what made you decide to dress like a model today, anyway?"

You smile softly, glancing away, feeling comforted by his validation, before saying with a little shrug, "I don't know. Just felt like it." Most of the time, you just wear casual clothes: a McLaren shirt and hat, white jeans, and maybe sunglasses. So you can get how Oscar would be so shocked. You suppose you just weren't expecting this much of a reaction.

He brushes your cheek, saying, "You did your makeup differently, too, didn't you?"

"Yeah... is it too much?"

"Not at all. It's bold, but I like it."

You nod with a little relieved sigh. "You sure?"

He nods confidently. "Positive."

"Oh, good," another little smile creeps up on your face. "That's good to hear. Well, I guess I should leave you to your duties now, Oscar. See you later!" you begin to turn around to leave, but he suddenly grabs your hand to pull you back.

He gives you a quick kiss on your cheek and mutters, "Have fun, beautiful," before letting go of your hand again and letting you walk off.

"Oh! Oscar! Don't you think I would look pretty in this...?" you ask excitedly, tugging his hand, holding up a top on a clothes hanger. It's been two hours already of you dragging Oscar from store to store, buying and trying on clothes, simply because you wanted to apparently 'get more nice clothes to wear to F1 races,' and Oscar hasn't had the heart yet to suggest finishing up.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I think you would..." he says, a bit distant, before snapping back into it and saying, "But red's not really your color. Not that you don't look good in it. You look good in everything you wear. I'm just saying-"

"No, no, I get it... I just remember Alex wearing something like this..."

"Alex?" Oscar asks, confused. "Alex who?"

"Oh, you know. Alexandra," when he just proceeds to look even more confused, you add, "Charles's girlfriend?"

"Oh..." Oscar nods as he realizes who you're even talking about, and shrugs, before saying after a few seconds, a bit confused, "Well, of course she'd be wearing red. She's Ferrari."

You crinkle your nose. "Do you really expect me to wear bright orange, Oscar?"

He snorts and says, "No. All I'm saying is that maybe she just wears red for Ferrari. I don't know, I'm not paying attention to her. I only pay attention to you, and though I think you look beautiful in red or not, either way, all I'm saying is that it's just not your color. Besides, you told me to be honest at the beginning of all this. I'm just trying to do what you want me to do. But in then end, I don't really care what you wear; you look amazing either way."

You frown, and suddenly groan, "I wish I looked good in red!"

Oscar smiles, still a bit confused at this complaint. "Why?" he asks earnestly.

You shrug, glancing back down at the shirt. "I dunno. Because Alex looks so good in red."

Oscar cocks his head a bit, apparently still not really understanding. "Who cares what Alexandra looks good in? Because I certainly don't."

You sigh, getting a bit exasperated. "I don't know! I guess I'm just trying to look pretty on the paddock, but I look sucky in all the lovely styles that everyone else always wears!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Oscar says, his hand immediately going to your shoulder. "First of all, you never, ever look sucky, no matter what you're wearing. Second of all, in my opinion, you're always the prettiest in the paddock, no matter who's there. And third of all, who says you have to wear the styles everybody else is wearing? I think your current style is perfectly lovely and fine and beautiful, but even if you do want to change it up, you can find your own. Or invent your own. You don't have to copy Alexandra, or whoever else."

But you only hear half of what he's really saying, and register nearly none of it, and the moment he stops talking, you hold up yet another red top (that honestly doesn't really look that different to Oscar), and say, "How about this one? It's a different shade," holding it up to yourself.

Realizing that this really isn't a battle he's going to win, Oscar just sighs, smiles, and nods, saying, "Actually, yeah. I like the fit would be good. And this color suits you a bit more, too." To him, it looks like the exact same color.

You grin, seeming much more pleased, "Oh, good! Can I go try it on?"

Oscar sigh a bit, smiling and shaking his head, murmuring, "M-hm, sounds good. Can't wait to see it on you, beautiful."

As you walk off to the changing room, Oscar thinks he hears you murmur something about how 'maybe you should just go more for Carmen's style.' Oscar's eyebrows just scrunch together at that, and as he sits down outside the changing rooms to wait for you to come show him, all he can think is, Maybe that's just the way girls are, and I really don't understand them after all.

The excitement of having some of the prettiest girls in the paddock complimenting your outfits is almost too much. The girls that you admire so much.

The ones that handle the fame and attention so well.

You feel like you're already doing better with all that stuff. Once you're convinced you look good, which usually takes at least a half hour of switching outfits, at least twenty reassurances from Oscar, and at least one outside person complimenting your appearance, you feel like a different person.

Like you could conquer the world!

Well, Oscar's not a very sensitive person, nor overly perceptive. It doesn't bother him that you seem to be a bit preoccupied. Not really. Sure, there are some times he wishes you were around when you're not, like you used to be, but he doesn't take it personally. He wants the best for you. And if the best of you is to distance yourself a bit in order to find yourself, or whatever you're doing, he trusts you. As long as you keep saying there's nothing wrong, and you're all good, he'll keep being the first person to believe it.

He just keeps sort of ignoring his intuition telling him that something is just off. Because you're not just growing. It's almost as if you're changing into a new person. Not the girl he asked out years ago. Not the girl he's fallen in love with. On the outside, on the paddock, in public, with all the cameras on you, you seem like the bubbly, friendly perfect type of girl with everything all right. You've never really been that type. Of course, you've always been happy, and to him, you're just perfect. But you've never been so camera hungry and extroverted like you seem to be now. You seem so confident in yourself, it almost seems fake. Though Oscar would never dare consider that thought anymore. It's just that in private, you seem to be the polar opposite of that: tired, quiet, let down. It's like the balanced girl he knew that was consistent nearly all the time has just switched to opposite extremes in different situations. And, well, Oscar has no idea why. He'd be lying if he were to say he wasn't concerned.

But he also can't see any way it'd be right to bring it up.

He just kind of misses the way it used to be. The way you used to be.

"Oscar!" his thoughts are suddenly interrupted by your voice and your footsteps entering the room. It's the early morning before he has to head to the paddock to begin the last race weekend of the season, and he's been laying in bed on his phone for a few minutes, waiting for you to get out of the hotel bathroom so he can have a quick shower.

"Yes?" Oscar asks, setting his phone down as you enter the room. You enter the room to show him your clothes, feeling slightly nervous, and unsure, like countless times before.

You twirl in your outfit, which consists of a white strapless top, dress pants, and black high heels. "How do I look?"

This has been going on for months, now. Probably about half the season. And in that moment, it just kind of snaps in Oscar's brain, and without thinking, and without being supportive like he always is, he decides that today, he's going to be honest. "Well, you look gorgeous. As always, of course, Y/n." He sits up and slips off the bed, before continuing practically, "But how thick are those pants? It's supposed to be killer hot today, and I'd hate for you to cook in those. I mean, they do make you look killer hot. They do look nice. And the high heels are lovely, but you always talk about how much your feet hurt after wearing those. Especially out on the paddock? And," he adds, reaching you, so he's nice and close to you, before picking up his McLaren cap off the hotel nightstand and sticking it on your head, "When did you stop wearing this hat, hm? I always thought you looked adorable in it."

You stare at each other for a few seconds, as if neither of you were expecting all that to come out of Oscar's mouth.

But what happens next is about the last thing Oscar would expect.

You take the hat off your head, throw it at his feet, turn on your heel, and walk straight out of that hotel room.

It all happens so fast, Oscar doesn't even have a moment to register what just happened and call you back before the door shuts behind you.

Ten unread messages from Oscar, and you don't even know why you're so mad, but the last thing you want to do right now is see him.

The first thing you want to do is think through it. Convince yourself he's wrong, and you're right.

He wants me to be a certain way for some reason, and it bothers him that I'm becoming who I want to be? So he just likes an ordinary girl with ordinary looks and ordinary fashion and an ordinary personality?

The truth is, you have no idea why he'd want that more than what you're trying to be.

Maybe he's just controlling? He just wants control over what you wear and how you act? But for the years you've dated him, he's never displayed qualities like those.

Then what is it? your brain screams, and for some reason, tears begin to fill your eyes.

And that's when a whisper of a thought dares to say, Doesn't Oscar want the best for you?

Is doing all this really the best for you?

But all the PR and popularity with fans it's brought you... it's so... validating.

But also so exhausting.

And when you come home at the end of the day, don't you want nothing more than to just take that mask off and destroy it?

You know how fake it is. It's like you work every day to make your mask become your face, but that will never happen, and that's painful.

You were happier before, but your outward 'success' was, like, close to nothing.

Do you really want this?

Can you even give up now?

With all the validation from the fans and media?

Maybe Oscar was a bit much today in the hotel. He was. But maybe he had a point, too...

It's like you can't stop. You keep it up for the rest of the weekend, even to Oscar, now, pretending everything is okay, and it's too much.

But you can't stop.

At the end of the weekend, though, after it's all said and done and you've had enough and all you want is to go to sleep and let your dreams sweep you away, everything in you wants to break down.

You need to be alone.

You need to be alone so you can finally be real.

And, of course, when you walk into the hotel room, there Oscar is, sitting by the window.

Just looking out of it.

"What are you doing?" you demand in slight confusion.

You see him look at you in the reflection of the glass. He doesn't even turn around.

Is this all I am now? Merely a reflection in the glass of the person I was to him?

"Looking out the window, and you?"

"That's all?"

He nods, before finally glancing back at you. Showing you his real, handsome face.

It's late, so late.

He just won his driver's championship, and all you want to do is fall apart.

Why isn't he more happy?

Probably just tired.

And here you are, with your nerve, saying, "Oscar, would you mind leaving?"

You see his eyes flash in confusion in the glass. Fear, even, maybe for just a second. He stands up and faces you, his hands going to your shoulders. "Leaving?"

"Just for... a bit."

"Why?" he demands.

"I need some alone time."

He stares, his eyes softening further, before murmuring, "Since when have you ever asked me for that? How many times have we been alone together?"

"Aren't I allowed some privacy, Oscar?"

"Isn't your whole life privacy, by now, Y/n?" It's not an accusation. It's a desperate question, that you have no answer to.

Because you don't want to say yes, but you can't say no. "Please, Osc..." you murmur, trying to keep it together. "I need this time."

"Darling..." he whispers, like a silent prayer.

Your stomach lurches. Why is he calling me that?

Doesn't he only talk like that when he needs me?

"Oscar, listen..."

"Please..." he whispers. "Let it go. At least for me. Don't you see this isn't good for you?"

"Oscar, I-" your voice cracks.

He sighs. "We don't have to talk. We don't have to lay together, or sit together, or be next to each other. We could be on completely opposite sides of the room as each other." He gulps, before adding, "Just let us be alone together. Like we used to always be, when it hurt, and we needed alone time, but we knew we'd both always be there when the other needed it. It's starting to feel so lonely out here without you, darling..." he stroke your cheek gently.

You gulp, fighting back tears.

"Take off those shoes, go put on your pajamas. Just relax, beautiful. Let your cover fall. I don't ever want to forget the you you are without it."

"Do you want me to cry?"

"Never."

"Then why-"

"Because I'd rather you cry if you need to than hold it in and let it rot the inside of you, love."

Love.

"That's the first time you've ever called me that..." you murmur as you slowly lean against the bed to slip off your shoes.

He smiles softly, which surprises you.

You quickly slip on pajamas, before crawling into bed, and murmuring, despite yourself, "Can you come over?"

And in seconds, Oscar's crawling into bed next to you, tucking the two of you in.

"Hold me."

"It's my pleasure," he responds softly, gently pulling you into his chest.

You lay there like that for a while, before whispering, your voice so weak, "Oh, God, Oscar... I'm so, so tired."

"I know you are, darling. I know." He kisses the tops of your head.

Your voice cracks a bit, and this time, you let the tear fall. "I just... I just felt like maybe I should've... been more like them. I'll admit it, I got jealous."

Oscar strokes your hair.

You swallow. More tears fall. "I just guess I felt like I wasn't good enough, but they all were."

"Good enough for what?"

You stare, the question lingering like a germ in the air. "For the media. For the fans. For every single person watching me every single race weekend."

He kisses your nose. "Pressure got to you. Did you ever feel like you weren't good enough for yourself?"

You swallow, shrugging. Nod a bit.

He sighs softly, nodding. Takes your hand and begins whispering, "I want you to know. You're worthy of every single kiss, every single hug, every single sigh, every single tear. You're worthy of every single star in the sky, every single drop in the ocean. You're worthy of laughter and sunshine and so, so much love. You're worthy of..." Oscar trails off, suddenly feeling an unexpected wave of emotion hit himself, before he gains his grip once more again and continues with, in merely a soft whisper, "You're worthy of all the joy and goodness in with world. And you'd know that if you knew how much joy and goodness you project into the world, without even trying, without even thinking about it." He swallows to keep his voice from cracking, and finishes with, "Please know, no matter what happens, or whatever anyone says, I'll always love you for who you are. I'll always be here to be your home. I want you for everything you are, and nothing that you feel you've ought to be. Because to me, you're perfect just the way you are. That is the kind of worth you have, and I wish you could see that, too."

The moment the last beautiful whisper of a word exits his mouth, you break down, fall into him, and cry. And he whispers about wiping away every single one of your tears, because you deserve none of the pain you're going through.

The fact that you've done all this, and brought it on yourself, and hurt him, and he stills says this.

Once your tears have subsided, Oscar smiles a bit, looking into your eyes like you're the most beautiful sunrise, or sparkling dew fresh in the morning, or the glimmer of the sun on the ocean, or any other beautiful thing that could fascinate even the coldest of people. And he whispers, wiping away the last of your stray tears, "Dress for no one but yourself, love. Be who you are. Because whatever you want to wear, you'll stun me. And I love you for exactly the person you are, nt the person you feel you ought to be. Whether you're in an evening gown with the most beautifully done makeup, or in your pajamas with tangled up hair, to me, you'll always, no matter what, be the most gorgeous, amazing, beautiful, perfect woman I have ever set my eyes upon."

Your breath catches in your throat. "Oscar, you..." You're utterly speechless.

He holds you close, and for the first time in months, you feel a certain peace envelop you.

You feel like you're home again.

Maybe all you needed was a good cry and the most perfect boyfriend any girl could ask for.

As your exhausted body gives itself away to slumber you hear Oscar murmur after gently kissing your scalp, "Can't wait to see you in my McLaren hat again, darling."

And you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

[stripedstarsblueflags]

if you expect a driver to be world champion material (ruthless, ravenously ambitious, selfish, psychologically manipulative, killer instinct, able to be cold hearted to hypothermic extremes, competitive to the point of aggression, values winning more than anything and anyone in their lives) and also be a completely likeable person that is entirely a you problem

[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]

kink-o-ween - day nine

fernando alonso - semi-public sex

cw: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, age gap (20s/40s), assistant!reader, chauvinistic!fernando, age gap (20s/40s)

kink-o-ween: formula one edition - call of duty edition

"fernando? fernando?" lance's voice sounded a million miles away. fernando alonso was not paying attention. not while you were a shivering mess now under the protection of the roof of the garage.

you held onto your shoulders and shivered. you were standing there in a soaked white blouse (he could see your nipples), a pencil skirt that somehow hugged more of your curves, and high heels.

you looked delicious. a meal served up to fernando

fernando got up, ignoring his teammate as he headed towards you. the driver beamed as he took off his jacket and put it over your shoulders, "well, if it isn't my lovely assistant. what were you doing out there?"

you were pulled to his side, and let him rub your bicep, "i was out with the rest of the team and it started to pour. i should've brought a rain coat."

"ah well, next time. right? you'll remember." he chuckled as he brought you further into the garage. you needed to dry off, the team will be fine without their favourite assistant for some time.

while you thought you'd be with the rest of the staff before the race. instead you ended up in fernando's driver's room. but before he got you into the room, he kissed you up against the door of the place. he held onto your wet shoulders.

"you look good like this. all wet for me, everyone can see everything. i don't like that very much. you should be for my eyes only. right? you're not that dumb to think that i would let you whore yourself out like that." he got you up onto the couch in the driver's room. your clothes were restrictive so fernando did you a favour and got you out of them.

too bad he didn't leave them out to dry, rather in a wet heap. after he was done with you, you could wear some of his clothes. you'd look nicer anyway. he loved the sight of you down to your underwear, out of those restrictive clothes.

"they shouldn't be putting you in such tight things. you'd draw too much attention to yourself. i think something softer for someone like you. a woman." he chuckled as he invaded your space on the couch.

the walls of the driver's rooms were thin and the door to fernando's barely locked. it was risky, especially given your connections. you didn't want a scandal. but all caution was thrown to the wind when he got his cock out of his jeans.

there was a noticeable age gap between you and him. but you didn't care, you were an adult. and could do what you pleased. but still, the sight of a younger naked woman on top of a well known formula was driver would cause a scandal. but fernando didn't care, not when your heavy breasts were in his face, tempting him.

"you make me want to do bad things to you." he said, "things that would make a whore blush." he groped at your blush, "and you'd let me do it all, you'd let me pick you apart." his voice was hot in your ear and it made you shudder.

you were in his lap, your breasts so close to his face. his large hands groped your skin. you knew rationally it was wrong. that you should've high-tailed it out of there. but, you couldn't help yourself. not when his cock stood upright. you took a hold of his cock and sank yourself onto it before you started to ride him.

"oh perfect." he said softly, he couldn't be too loud. not while you were both on the clock. you also had to be quick as well, as you were also on the clock.

you whimpered a little but placed a hand over your mouth as you rode him. your other hand was on his shoulder for support as you rubbed yourself up against him. fernando loved the sight of you, you were so close to him. all naked on his cock, you bounced on him as you worked his cock so pretty.

"you always take care of me." he said as he kissed your neck, he could feel the sweat on your neck. his cock twitched inside of you with an insatiable need to fuck you harder.

he wanted to feel you inside and out, he wanted to drag his hands across your body. he wanted to feel the jump in your pulse as he dragged his fingers across you. he wanted to feel your nipples grow hard and your pulse jump. he wanted it all, he was greedy that way. why would he deny himself such a beautiful woman? you pranced around, all smiles, around the paddock. fernando knew that others stared at you, but you always ended up in his bed. with him. alone.

he wasn't sharing, he didn't care what gen-z did in their sexual activities. if he was going to fuck you, then it was you two together, rutting like rabbits. the idea of someone else's lips on you made him scowl without a second thought.

but you kissed away the look from his thinking as you continued to ride him. this position was perfect for a quick fuck, fernando loved you on top. it was the only time he'd allow you to be on top. since he was the man, he was always a little more ahead of you. and you were the innocent little angel that took him perfectly.

he gripped onto your hips tighter and started to control the pace more. you clung onto him with both hands as you bit your bottom lip to keep quiet. you could feel the rattle of your heartbeat in your chest. the rapid thump excited you as you moved faster.

"you're so pretty. better at this than being my assistant." he kissed at your breasts and felt good inside of you. you felt like a dream as he licked his lips and looked at you.

you replied, "i very much like my job, fernando." you clung onto him tightly. you moaned a little louder and it made you feel hot all over. the risk grew the longer you took to cum.

"i know, i know. it's perfect, even for a silly girl like you. you don't know how many men wish to eat you alive. but only i get to devour you." he groaned as he worked your hips faster. his large hands on your hips as he pushed you up and down onto his cock.

the kisses continued once more, you whimpered into it as you moved as quickly as you could. your sweat was combined with the leftover rainwater on your skin. when you pulled away, you had a blissed out expression on your face.

you looked beautiful, so, so beautiful on top of him. as your body moved against him. fernando gazed at your body and clutched onto you. he continued to move you onto his cock. it didn't take long before orgasm washed over you. you clutched onto him tightly.

he loved the feeling of you climaxing around him. he took you by the face and pulled you into a tight kiss before he continued to rut against you. it was alright, you did enough for him (for now). he let you rest against him as he fucked up into you.

you gasped and whined softly against his shoulder as you worked his hips. he was surprised that you didn't make some snide comment about how he could still fuck as good as he did at his age.

"so pretty." he said, "and so small. i could easily break you in half. you look prettiest like this. against me, letting me fuck you as i please. you're such a dirty girl." you whimpered softly in response.

it didn't take long for him to finish himself. he came inside of you, and left a red mark on your collarbone. it wouldn't be shown with any shirt you wore, but he'd know it was there.

he slowed his thrusts to a stop, but kept his cock inside of you for a moment longer to kiss you on lips. the kiss was deep, but there wasn't enough time for round two.

you pulled away from the kiss and pushed hair out of your eyes, "will you let me borrow some clothes."

fernando could never say no to you. he looked at your pile of wet clothes and said, "well, i don't have any extra bras." he chuckled, "so i guess you'll have to go without." he licked his lips.

he knew the sight of you bra-less in his clothes was going to drive him wild. at least you wouldn't complain when he tore them off of you later. <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

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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

[makwebba]

better than a podium l LN4

summary: lando could've won his first race in silverstone but he ended up not finishing. pairing: lando x gf!reader warnings: mentions of lando crashing and swearing. note: my first formula 1 fan fiction! not my first time writing fan fictions but it has been a couple of years since i wrote something and lately my love for writing is slowly coming back. the pictures are from pinterest and idk who the owners are so if you guys know the owner or if you are the owner, please lemme know :( also no hate on checo but it just kinda make sense cause he's in a red bull idk. dont come for me. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy it!

- lando was leading the race in silverstone, his home race. you could've not been more prouder for your boyfriend, you were certain he was gonna win the race but not until checo hit the rear tyre of lando's car which cause him to spun out and hit the barrier. your heart sank, everything went numb and it felt like the world just stopped. it was a bad crash, you waited for his voice to come through the mclaren headset that's snugged onto your ear. "lando, are you okay, mate?" randy asked through the radio. you can hear him grunt and groan in agony, breaking your heart even further. you hated seeing him like this every time you come and watch him race. what felt like ages, the medical car finally showed up to retrieve him back to the garage. lando didn't even bother making any eye contact with anybody once he got to the garage, not even you. he just went straight back to his driver's room, hearing the door slam behind you. you sighed as you rubbed your face with your hands in frustration. you walked over to where he locked himself in, you didn't even have to see him to feel the tension that was building in the air as you knocked on the door. "lan...?" your voice muffled against the wooden barrier between you and lando. lando's eyes closed shut when he heard your voice behind the door, he always loved how soft spoken you were to him. he hasn't responded back to you as he stayed where he was sat before deciding opening the door for you. there he is. what he once was; a ray of sunlight beaming through the morning sun to becoming the loud rumbling sound of thunder at night. you furrowed your brows as you quickly but gently swift his hand up against yours while you closed the door behind you. "hey..." you whispered as you brought your hand up to his face, searching for his eyes. lando was not the type to cry but boy, he was just on the verge of losing it. you brought him into a tight embrace, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck and his arms wrapping around your back. he held you tight as you started to hear him sniffle which ached your heart painfully. you had to fight your tears back because he hated seeing you be so empathetic for him whenever he had a bad race. "i was close... so fucking close..." he mumbled, his voice getting choked up. "i know, my love. i know." you slowly pulled away from him as he quickly wiped the tears building up in his eyes with the palm of his hand before it could stream down his face. you rubbed his arms for comfort as you stood before him, you finally managed to see his eyes. oh so beautiful but it was filled with so much anger and pain. "you did so well out there. and i know your fans wanted you to win as much as you do. we all did. but sometimes things just doesn't go our way..." you said, running your fingers through the side of his head, intertwining with his curls. "could never win a race, huh?" he muttered, moving your hand away from him. "i don't know why i got into this sport in the first place. not even good at it." it broke your heart to hear him talk so low about himself. you tilted your head slightly to the side as your brows furrowed when he moved your hand away from him, stopping you from running your fingers through his hair. you didn't let him get away from it when you placed both of your hands on his face, staring directly into his eyes. "you don't have to be a race winner to be a great driver. you are enough." lando looked back into your eyes which eased him a little. he took a deep breath in when his hand found a place down on your lower back, a soft smile appeared on his face which made you smile back at him.

it was that contagious. "in everyone's eyes you're a winner. to me you're a champion." a wave of warmth cruised all over lando's body when you said those words to him. it definitely hit a nerve in his system but in a good way. it didn't take long until lando pulled you in closer to him and placed his lips against yours, gentle and passionate. "i wouldn't know what i would've done if you weren't here..." he said. landonorris and ynusername

liked by mclaren, user1, user2 and 1,233,754 others landonorris shoulda woulda coulda, right? but i’ve got something better than a podium.

the end x

[apollosdaydreams]

Viva Las Vegas!

Max Verstappen x Reader

Warnings: smut 18+, dom! Max, Sub! Reader, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), swearing. Sorry if the Dutch is wrong I used a translator.

Author's note: I'm still pretty new to writing smut, so I hope this came out fine!

Summary: after Max won his fourth world championship joining Juan Manusel Fangio, Alain Prost, Michael Schumacher, Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton. Meaning you and Max have a long night of celebrating this incredible win.

Max and you stumbled into your shared hotel room, Max pushed you up against the door, one hand on your hip while the other locked the door behind you. Kissing his neck while playing with the ends of his hair close to his neck, he groaned, pushing his hips harder on to yours.

“Wees geen plagerij” he growled in your ear. “Jump..” he whispered.

(Don’t be a tease)

You jumped slightly, your legs wrapping around his waist, his hands coming to hold you up by your ass. Walking over to the bed so he could lay you down on it. You made your way up to the pillows, looking up at Max with a smile.

“You're being slow Max.” You whined.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Me? Slow? I’ll show you slow sweetheart.” he breathed. He then went for the button of your shorts, unbuttoning them and pulling down the zipper, slowly he pulled down your shorts. Making his way back up to you he kissed your soft thighs, getting closer and closer to where you wanted him the most. He skipped over where you wanted him the most, pushing up your top and kissing your stomach, lifting your shirt over your head.

You whined. “Please, Max, please I need you.” You begged, grinding your hips up into his, chasing a release.

Max couldn't help but let out a small laugh. “Begging for it now, needy little thing.” He whispered into your ear, moving down to kiss your neck. Reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, and throwing it somewhere in the room, kissing down your stomach, he stopped right above your painty line. Looking up at you and smiling, then reaching up to take it off. You lifted your hips to help him take off your painties.

“So fucking needy liefde….” Max whispered.

(love)

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me Verstappen…”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” Max said while quickly pulling down his jeans and boxers, and unbuttoning his white shirt, throwing it with the other articles of clothes that were now thrown about the room.

Max then flipped you over, so Max was laying on the bed and you were on top of him. His hands holding your hips, you slightly moved upwards and Max grabbed his cock to help you line it up with you. You slowly sank down on him, moaning as you did. Max couldn't help himself but moan with you, grabbing your hips harder.

“Oh god, y/n, you feel so good….” He moaned out, his head leaning back on to the pillows behind him, and closing his eyes. You then began to bounce on his lap, setting the pace, Max then began to help you, gripping your hips and moving you up and down. You moaned.

“Oh.. max, please, i- please…” you said, not really knowing what you were saying please for.

“Please what?” he said cockly, still moving you up and down against him.

“Harder, I- I need harder, please Max…” you whispered.

Max growled slowly, flipping you back so you were laying on the bed. He then began to fuck you harder, one hand on the bes next to your head, while the other was now on your clit.

Max’s pace never slowed, I guess being a high performance athlete helped.

“Max…. I'm close… dont stop, please don't stop.” you begged.

“Hmmm I'm close, too liefde.” He whispered into your ear, still never slowing down his pace.

You could feel your lower stomach begin to tighten. Mumbling something incorrectly, but max didn't care, all he cared about was making you feel good, and making you cum before himself. You then felt the knot in your stomach become undone, moaning out Max’s name as you came. Almost getting no time to breathe as Max finished right after you. He fell down next to you, both of you breathing heavily.

“God i fucking love you y/n.” He said, begging to kiss the side of your neck.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

You woke up to the sun peaking through the window, you slowly opened your eyes, to see that Max was still asleep behind you, his arm laying over you. You let out a long breath enjoying the quiet morning, but you couldn't help but feel the small ache between your legs, from last night's activities. Before you know it Max had woken up, kissing the skin on the back of your neck.

“Good morning schatje…”

(sweetheart)

“Morning Max…” you mumbled as you turned around so your face could be in his chest.

Max couldn't help but chuckle. “So how many times did I make you cum last night?” He asked smugly.

You rolled your eyes. “”Four times, for each championship you won.” you said.

Max pulled you in closer. “I think I could make you cum 4 more times, don't you think?”

You laughed. “Yeah no, my pussy needs a break from your abuse.”

Max fake frowned at you. “Fine, I'll give you a short break, then make you cum four more times.” He said with a smile.

“God Max, you are so annoying. You said, rolling your eyes at the Dutch.

“But you love it.” He winked.

You smiled up at him. “I guess you're right.” You said kissing his lips. “I'm so proud of you Max…”

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

It would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog!! 💙

© 2024 on tumblr apollosdaydreams do not translate/remake/repost my works on any platform without authorized permission.

[jennarations]

The Ultimate Lestappen Fic Masterlist ™

Hello all. This list has about 70+ fics within it. That’s just under 1,000,000 words solely dedicated to the Carbonara Leclerc-Verstappens. (yes i counted) I’ve tried to maintain my organization throughout, but if something looks a little janky or feels out of place, let me know. (Lord knows I never made this list thinking I would make it public but alas, here we are) The key is simple:

> (Title) +/= (Multichaptered/One-Shot)

(Summary)

!!! (Link)

• (Tags - please note these are just the tags I saw relevant to myself, double check the fics themselves for any other tags you might deem relevant!) *(Word count)

Now I’ve put a ♥️ next to all of my personal favorites. Remember, this is a masterlist and a fic rec if that’s what you’re looking for. I will never read (or record) any fic that is not up to my personal golden standard; so everything you see below has been read and vetted by yours truly 💋 I will also tag my favorite authors at the bottom of this post so you can go view their pages and send them some love :^) Note: All of these works are on Ao3. There is only one WIP in this list and it is stated with the fic. Now go crazy you animals ;))

(p.s. some of the fic descriptions are quite long, but with respect to the authors wishes I feel that it would be a dishonesty to chop them off though so you’ll have to deal with it) Here we go!!!!!!!! (under the Read More)

> Home (Is Wherever I’m With You) + ♥️

Or: Charles leaves Ferrari, tries to win a championship, and learns some things about belonging. All the while, Max is there.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40801053/chapters/102234501

• Angst, Fluff, Red Bull!Charles *17.9k

> On The Limit = (Series - Objects in the Mirror) ♥️

Two Formula 1 drivers walk into a bar and accidentally have a heart-to-heart.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43252263

• Angst, Heart to Heart *6.8k

> Leave No Space = (Series - Objects in the Mirror)

Max Verstappen fucks men sometimes. Charles struggles to cope.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43505271

• Falling in Love, Charles is depressed, Charles is moving to Red Bull *31.7k

> All To Play For = (End of Series - Objects in the Mirror)

Charles Leclerc is not at Red Bull to win races. He is here to win championships.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46910503

• Nasty Breakup w/ Happy Ending, Charles is so depressed, Pain, Angst, Red Bull!Charles *49.3k

> I Think There’s Been a Glitch = (Series)

or: Max sits on Hüllkenberg’s lap during a press conference. Charles is decidedly Not Normal about it.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46107499

• Teasing, Crush, First Time, Charles POV, Bottom!Max *5.5k

> Room 309 = (End of Series)

or: what happens in room 309

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46397647

• Max’s POV, Smut *8.2k

> Undress Me to the Naked Truth =

or: Charles and Max celebrate post-Austria 2022

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46761448

• Smut, Established Relationship, Bottom!Max *6.8k

> The Rest is Unwritten =

Max ran, like his husbands life depended on it.

Weaving his way around the paddock, murmurs of a black flag and unresponsive boring through the crowds. All he could do was get to Charles.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46203964#main

• Angst, Husbands, Crash *1.5k

> Monaco Malaise = (Series)

Max and Charles have been hooking up for a few months, casually, no string attached — definitely no feelings involved…

The disaster that was Monaco 2021 sees them in Charles’ apartment, with Max having to deal with the fact that Charles can’t get out of his head.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43192021#main

• Smut, Slight Angst, Slight Fluff *8k

> Azerbaijan Abnegation = (End of Series)

After Monaco, Max thought he’d made up his mind about Charles, and their little arrangement.

They’re in Azerbaijan and Charles is everywhere: in his head, in his messages, in his hotel room…

Will Max be able to hold onto his resolve, or will his attempts at self-denial only prolong the inevitable?

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46781737/chapters/117829006#workskin

• Angst, Smut *16.9k

> Ribs =

He wakes up all weird on Monday. Charles can feel it the moment he opens his eyes. It’s like an odd weight on his chest that evolves into something a lot more achy and sharp emanating down his torso as he starts crawling out of bed.

Or: Charles injures himself before the last race of the season. The only option is to power through it.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/44784424#main

• Fluff, Established Relationship, WDC!Charles *2.6k

> You Could Call Me Babe For the Weekend + ♥️

Or: There are lots of ways to love Charles Leclerc, Max maybe learns all of them through the years.

Featuring: puddles, stargazing, unsolicited driving lessons, and the overwhelming fear of growing up.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/42042690/chapters/105559215#workskin

• Angst, Teenagers, Falling in Love *12.3k

> Got Your Tongue =

It’s the middle of the night, there’s a stray cat in Charles’ bedroom, and only one person he can think of to help him. The rest is just a misunderstanding.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46854709?view_adult=true#main

• Fluff *2.9k

> Do You Want Me (Dead)? =

When Charles accidentally comes out to Max it shouldn’t really change anything. It doesn’t change anything.

Until it does. In fact, it changes everything.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/44626003#main

• Angst, Pining, Fluff, Happy Ending, FIFA in Suzuka *12.5k

> How to Babygirl-ify Your Boyfriend: A Comprehensive Guide by Charles Leclerc =

Charles sees someone on the internet call Max babygirl. He’s instantly obsessed.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/45295756?view_adult=true#main

• Smut, Fluff, Bottom!Max *4.5k

> Silly Me (For Falling in Love With You) = ♥️

“We’re not asking you to ‘woo’ him,” Christian says, looking pained at having to say the word ‘woo’, “We just need others to think you’ve wooed him.”

“I’m not following,” Max says, frowning.

“A PR relationship,” Poppy explains. “You pretend to date, making the public think you’re all happy and in love. Then you reap the benefits of being in a relationship without actually having to put in the effort or work.”

“Absolutely not,” Max says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s depressing, I’m not doing that.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/44464324#main

• Fluff, Angst, Fake Relationship, Non-F1!Charles *18.3k

> Glitch + ♥️

Max hums. “Well, at least that means I won’t bump into Charles Leclerc again.”

“Bummer, really,” Daniel says, moving back to his own seat and drinking the little bit of coffee that was still in the cup. “Could’ve been the start of a great love story.”

Lando snorts. “Kids, it all started when I told your father, who had won two World Driver Championships at that point, that he sucked at driving.”

Max sticks his middle finger up at them, and pulls his noise canceling headphones back over his ears. Only two hours left to go, he thinks, wistfully, and goes back to work.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46316224/chapters/116609527

• Angst, Fluff, Funny, Programmer!Max *26.6k

> Heart On Your Sleeve =

The thing about having a racing helmet that constantly displays your emotions for the whole world to see, is that you kind of get used to it after a while. These days Charles almost forgets it’s even a thing.

Almost.

But then he goes and falls in love.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/45717973#main

• Pining, Magical Realism *4.8k

> You Can Hear It In the Silence =

Or, the five times Max and Charles accidentally fall asleep together, and the one time they do it on purpose.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43882683#main

• Pining, Sleep trope, Fluff *7.4k

> You’ll be Alright = ♥️

Charles is not an idiot. He knows there’s a part of him that has been at least a little bit in love with Max for as long as they’ve known each other. But he’s always been able to shove it down. Burying it under rivalries and competitiveness until it was getting hard to differentiate between love and hate. And that had worked, for a really long time.

And then Max had to go and barge into his life and be really fucking cute with his baby.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/45348790#main

• Kidfic, Fluff, Slight Angst, Max is great with kids, Falling in Love *19.2k

> Maximum Formula =

“Welcome back to another episode of Maximum Formula, I’m your host, Emilian, and this is the first episode for the F1 2022 season. There will be plenty to talk about, but first I’d like to introduce our first guest of the season: Charles Leclerc. Welcome to the show, Charles.”

Or, Charles tries to become a world champion with Ferrari.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/45691483#main

• Angst, Falling in Love, Podcast!Max, Identity Hiding *20.4k

> Violent Delights +

Max can’t smell any of his usual aggression beneath the unusual spatter of Omega, sweet yet violent, and it makes his head spin.

“Max,” is all Charles says, voice breathless. He looks over his shoulder, quick, hasty, looks back. His eyes are wider, if possible. “We have— we have fucked up, I think.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/41445333#main

• A/B/O, Alpha!Max, Alpha!Charles turns into Omega!Charles *15.5k

> Petrol =

Max scoffs. He steps closer, smile a little real. It lets Charles see the tiny freckle on his lip, dark and undying, always zoomed in on when his face is in HD. Chuckling, Max scratches at his stubble. “I didn’t know you liked Red Bull.”

Automatically, Charles corrects, “I hate it.” It says too much.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/41359482#main

• Smut, Angst, Denial, Bottom!Max *4.2k

> It All Reminds Me of You =

Pierre turns, and with him, the object of his distasteful frown. “Why do you have a Red Bull cap in your apartment?”

Charles tenses. He looks between Pierre and the cap, still held tepid between two fingers, dark blue and flat-brimmed and garishly branded with a sick sense of obvious. It feels wrong, just looking at it. There’s a big red 1 emblazoned on the front.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40279869#main

• Angst, Smut, Secret Relationship, Switch!Max, Switch!Charles *3k

> Proximity =

These kinds of smiles on Max are reserved for other people. Like Daniel, like Lando, like those Dutch guys that come around sometimes and he likes to yell with.

Not Charles.

It’s probably the fourth time Max is acting noticeably strange around him that he notices the freckle on his lip.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40737591#main

• Angst, Smut *6.7k

> Want It Good Want It All =

When Max puts the disc into the cartridge of his PS4 he isn't sure what to expect.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43761192#main

• Sex tape, Masturbation *2.1k

> Algorithm + ♥️

Tired of all the internal team conflicts, the F1 powers-that-be have developed a simulation-based compatibility test for drivers and their teammates.

or

Five times Max doesn’t find the right partner and one time he does.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561109/chapters/72650025#workskin

• Magical Realism, Compatibility Simulations, Fluff, Slight Angst, Some Maxiel in the beginning *16.9k

> In the Dark You Can’t See Shiny Cars +

In the summer of 2022, the quiet neighbourhood of Les Amants in Monaco becomes the epicentre of a strange weather phenomenon.

or

A dark cloud hangs over Charles’ head—unfortunately not just a metaphorical one. Max sets out to investigate.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/41147001/chapters/103144245

• Magical Realism, Charles accidentally controls the weather, Fluff, Slight Angst *14.5k

> Panem et Circenses =

Panem et circenses, the Romans called it. Bread and circus to appease the people.

The bread is always in short supply these days, ever since the wheat fields burned down. So that just leaves-

“The brave new world of Formula One,” Crofty’s voice comes out distorted from the circuit speakers. “Ten teams. Twenty cars. An auspicious new technical programme that combines the top edge AI technology with the most skilled drivers to deliver the best spectacle ever seen.”

-

In a dystopian near-future, Charles and Max drive for survival.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/40704441#main

• Dystopian future, Sentient F1 cars, oppressive Regime, Hope, Angst, Falling in Love *13.2k

> Every Other Sunday + ♥️

The grainy pictures are pieced together like a crude comic strip, sketching a poorly thought-out narrative arc that somehow made it onto the front page of every sleazy newspaper.

EXPOSED!: The secret gay double-life of F1 driver Max Verstappen

-

Max navigates the aftermath of being outed in the press, and Charles is always there.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/34827223/chapters/86722561

• Slight Angst, Fluff, Smut, Max has been outed, Charles does some soul searching, Motorhome club, F1 family antics *34.5k

> Soak Up the Sun =

“What do you think?” Charles asks, leaning back into the seat as he turns the laptop so Max can see the options.

“I think—” Max starts, “—that this can wait until after FP1.”

Charles’s lips curl downwards, and Max wants to kiss the look off his face. “There’s still like an hour until it starts. There’s no one even looking for me yet.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Lestappen_Summer_Exchange_2022/works/40998603#main

• Fluff, Non-Linear timeline, Getting together *6.8k

> Like a Prayer =

It was sinful to have such thoughts but then Charles had never been one to shy away from sinful desires. Stood at the alter the priest looked glowing, his strong cheekbones and jawline illuminated by a wash of colour. Charles’ gaze followed the beams of light back to the stained glass, he tried not to think too long about the image of Christ etched on to the window. This was a sacred place, but there could be nothing more deserving of veneration than the God who had so kindly sculpted the body of Father Verstappen.

Or

Charles is an F1 driver and Max is a sexy priest.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Formula_One_Kinkmeme_Round_One/works/44838136#main

• Smut, Religion, Priest!Max *3.2k

> We Go Way Back =

They were the same in the end. Yes, Max was an alpha, and Charles was an omega, but that didn’t matter. If you took racing from either of them, there wouldn’t be anything left.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43936200?view_adult=true#main

• A/B/O, Alpha!Max, Omega!Charles, Smut, Fluff *13.8k

> Close Proximity =

A hotel mix-up forces Max and Charles to share a room. There is only one bed.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Formula_One_Kinkmeme_Round_One/works/44503150?view_adult=true#main

• Smut, One bed trope *3.5k

> Pens, fingers and most definitely cock ... a random list of things Max likes to put in his mouth =

Max has an oral fixation, Charles is happy to oblige. This is a story of their developing relationship as told through the things Max likes to put in his mouth!

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Formula_One_Kinkmeme_Round_One/works/44205019#main

• Oral fixation kink, Smut, Fluff *2.7k

> FIA Approved Stress Relief =

It’s the strangest briefing Charles has ever been a part of. Ever. Which is saying something because this time last year he was sat wide eyed as the Fia tried to bring in mandatory checks for Fia approved underwear and intimate piercings. A few team principles had helpfully offered their services and it had ended in a rather heated debate over whether that fell under their job description.

It didn’t compare to this though.

As director of the GPDA it’s been left to George to run through the basics of the brand new Fia approved sex doll. Charles was sure he had misheard but no, as it turns out, the Fia really have lost their minds.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Formula_One_Kinkmeme_Round_One/works/44059752?view_adult=true#main

• Sex Doll, Smut, Pining, Voyeurism *2.3k

> Long Live (The Walls We Crashed Through) + ♥️

“What are you doing?” Charles asked, his voice cracking.

Max blinked at him once before he smirked and said, “Well... I was going to kiss you.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“Why?” Charles repeated, feeling like his legs were going to give out.

“Is that not a good enough reason?” Max asked.

OR: The childhood best friends to lovers fairy-tale-soulmates fic that nobody asked for. Charles has been in love with Max since he was seven years old.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46190509/chapters/116284681

• Fluff, Smut, Best friends to lovers, Slight Angst *76.8k

> Viva la Miami =

Max raced all over the world and was used to different climates. But there was something about Miami’s sticky, muggy, make-your-phone-screen-fog-up kind of scorching heat that made him feel fucking crazy.

It made him want to strip naked and jump in the bright blue water surrounding his hotel.

It made him want to fuck.

OR: Max and Charles hook up for the first time, and it's very different than what Max had pictured.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46963513#main

• Smut, PWP, Top!Charles *8.2k

> I’ll Be Right Beside You = ♥️

Max stared at Charles’ closed eyes and how they twitched in his sleep. Objectively, Max knew that Charles was probably the most beautiful man he had ever seen. But... this was Charles.

Charles Leclerc.

Big, cry-baby Charles.

Sauber #2 driver Charles.

When did he decide that Charles The Driver would become Charles The Boyfriend?

He wishes he could remember.

OR: The self-indulgent Amnesia AU that nobody asked for. This is my love story to Charles Leclerc, thank you for coming along. Warning: this fic may break you.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/42990660#main

• Amnesia, Graphic Accident, Angst, Pain, Fluff, Smut *50.7k

> Breathe You In (Like a Vapor) =

OR: the self-indulgent story of how Charles and Max fell in love over winter break 2022, in a classic Enemies to Friends With Benefits to Lovers fic that nobody asked for.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/45079192?view_adult=true#main

• Smut, Fluff, Falling in Love *53k

> And That’s How I Foksmashed Dad’s Championship Trophy =

All of that would have been forgivable if not for the Green-Eyed Monster’s complete disregard for the pre-contracted occupation rights of Max’s lap. Such rights had long been pre-determined and belonged to Sassy (and occasionally to Jimmy, she admitted begrudgingly). However, no amount of quiet hisses and vicious glares seemed to penetrate the creature’s thick skull, and he would greedily occupy Max’s thigh for more than 95% of any given afternoon. Sometimes with his head, sometimes with his feet, and a few times he even straddled his entire body over Max; the latter could not have been comfortable for Max, as the Green-Eyed Monster was enormously overweight compared to Sassy.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/43833321#main

• Fluff, POV!Sassy and Jimmy, Funny *6.5k

> Set My Midnight Sorrow Free =

He doesn’t blame Max, not really.

If he could have Charles for one night, he would never let him go either.

Maybe he isn’t the one who is losing; Max is also playing a losing game.

You can’t open yourself to Charles and try to exist in his charmed life without becoming irrevocably enamoured.

When Max let Charles walk into his motorhome, when he let Charles slip into his existence, Max didn’t know it then but the battle was already lost.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/31552340#main

• Angst, POV!Pierre, Falling in Love, Jealousy/Pining *13.4k

> All of You, All of Me (Intertwined) =

Or, two future teammates get high, get on Mattia Binotto's wrong side through an inadvisable escapade involving fairy lights, get on a plane, and get a stuffed armadillo named Chax. In that order.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/42627222#main

• Fluff, Slight Angst, FWB to Lovers, Future Red Bull!Charles *12.8k

> The Grid: A Comprehensive Guide for Handling your Gay Racer Friends =

Or, Charles and Max, and the handbook birthed from their idiocy. Featuring a large number of baked goods.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33291136#main

• Fluff, Humor, Friends *6.3k

> we're fallin' like the stars, we're fallin' in love = ♥️

"So, do we need a signal for when things are going downhill and you need me to save you?" He asks, a glimmer in his eyes that seems so unfamiliar yet familiar that Max feels it like a sucker punch to the stomach.

"Just have the vodka waiting." Max laughs, flicking his gaze down to the gentle grip that Charles has his wrist in before he releases and Max turns around with pink cheeks and crosses the restaurant to join up with his date once again.

(Lando sets Max up on disastrous blind dates that end up with Max falling for the bartender who was the real set up all along.)

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27047056/chapters/66033652?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_668986186

• Fluff, Non-Driver AU, Blind dates, Bartender!Charles *8.7k

> Pick Apart the Pieces of Your Heart =

"I reckon-" George says in-between scenes, "- that Charles is Gatsby."

Lando tilts his head back to clock Max's reaction but it's nothing except confusion etched on his face as he scrunches his nose up trying to figure out what George means,

George holds his hand up and continues to explain, "Gatsby threw all these big parties in the hope that Daisy would go to one of them, right? Charles throws a party every other day and I think it's because he wants you to go." He says to Max

alternatively, Charles is Max's nightmare neighbour until he's something much more than that.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/25489348/chapters/61832617?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#main

• Fluff, Angst, Non-Driver AU, Apartment neighbor AU *6.3k

> We’re Making Gold Dust = (Series)

They’re carefully walking, skipping and hauling themselves across any gaps. The morning air feels crisp and fills Charles’ lungs until it hurts, but god, it hurts in the best way that it’s ever hurt him before. He takes pictures, videos but tries to remember the feeling most of all.

It feels like home.

The best people, the best places, the height, the element of danger, it’s everything that Charles hadn’t imagined his life to be five years ago but maybe it’s right after all.

alternatively, a fascination discovered at fifteen leads to love, trust and healing whilst breaking the rules and climbing things that aren't supposed to be climbed.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374812#main

• Angst, Non-Driver AU, Parkour AU, Falling in Love *13k

> Two Burning Hearts (It Would Last Forever) =

In the end, it does turn out that your soulmate can be the person you least expect and neither of them don’t think it could have been anybody else.

alternatively, Charles and Max are soulmates and for the most part, they hate it but should have seen it coming.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363920#main

• Soulmate AU, Angst *2.5k

> All the Lights (Couldn’t Put Out the Dark) = (Series - The Warming Verse)

“Charles,” Max said, his tone soft again and breaking Charles of his thoughts. “Please just ask me for whatever you want to ask me. You don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”

Charles laughed again, his cheeks bright red.

“Could I... sit on your cock for a little bit?”

OR: Charles is overwhelmed and wants Max to make it better.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46165159#main

• PWP, Cock Warming, Feelings *7.5k

> The Right Place (The Right Time) = (Series - The Warming Verse)

“Charles,” Max said, his tone gentle.

Charles didn’t move his hands away from his face.

“Hey... look at me,” Max said softly.

Charles took a deep breath and finally let his hands fall.

Max looked at him for a long moment, their eyes locked together before he asked, “Would my cock help?”

OR: In the aftermath of the shit show that was Melbourne, Charles turns to Max for comfort.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46332700#main

• PWP, Cock Warming *9.7k

> Something New (Let’s Not Get Complicated) + (Series - The Warming Verse)

Max smiled at him, his expression soft despite how hard he was against Charles’ hip.

“Pretty boy,” Max mused, brushing Charles’ hair out of his eyes.

“Shut up,” Charles huffed, flushing bright red. It only made Max smile harder.

“You’re even prettier when you tell me to shut up.”

“Shut the hell up, Max,” Charles squeaked.

OR: Charles and Max finally talk about their Feelings™

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46896289/chapters/118129207#workskin

• PWP, Cock Warming, Size Kink, Dom/subspace, Daddy kink *31.7k

—Please note there may be more works in The Warming Verse, I may not be caught up***

> Fair Winds and Following Seas = ♥️

Max lets out an impatient sigh and looks at Lando as he washes the shot glass before putting it back. “Well who is it?”

Lando rolls his eyes. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m delightful, now come on,” Max presses, trying not to show he’s getting curious. “Who is this mystery person?”

“Charles Leclerc!” Lando says with a bright smile, he’s almost jumping up and down with excitement. “He’s chartering the yacht for the week!”

“Charles Leclerc?” Max repeats, raising an eyebrow. “The Charles Leclerc, F1 driver for Ferrari, is here?”

Or

Max works on a super yacht during the summer to make some money to invest in his sim racing career and Charles happens to charter it for the week.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48088906/chapters/121258555?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_671144260

• Non Driver!Max, Yacht shenanigans, Fluff, Slight Angst, Mentions of Smut *24.8k

> Carry Me in Your Heart (You Know You’re Never Gonna Leave Mine) =

“You are the reason he started learning German?!” Lorenzo practically gasps, honest-to-god glee on his features. Charles hates him.

“But Max is Dutch,” Arthur says.

Charles groans, his hands trailing in front of his face in an effort to disappear from the situation.

-

AU where you can sometimes see through your soulmate's eyes.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/42022176?view_adult=true#main

• Soulmate!AU, Growing up together, Angst, Harsh breakup, Angst with a happy ending *30.2k

> No Brakes On = ♥️

Max is a race car driver. Charles is a movie star. They really shouldn't work, but they do.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/48170218#main

• Actor!Charles, Slight Angst, Character study, Fluff, Strangers to lovers *32.5k

> Lost In Your Current Like a Priceless Wine =

"What did you just say?" Max asks in a flat voice and Charles gives him a strained smile.

"I might have accidentally told my mom that I have a boyfriend and now she's demanding that I bring you home with me for the New Year. Actually, she said Christmas and New Year, but I told her that you were spending Christmas with your own family..."

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28535271

• Fake dating, Non-Driver AU, College AU, Fluff, Slight Angst *10.2k

> You Got Me =

When Max looks up he stares into pretty green eyes behind black rimmed glasses. His hand is still blindly feeling around to find the books—his brain lagging—as he stares at the guy from last night. He straightens up and Max follows, staring dumbly as he holds out the books for Max to take.

“Thanks,” Max says, feeling like an idiot as he takes the books, their fingers brushing for a split second. This was not how he wanted to meet again. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

The guy smiles and Max thinks he might just die a little when he notices he has dimples. Of course he has dimples.

Or

Max falls head over heels for the cute guy at a college party and he can't stop thinking about him (aka the lestappen college au nobody needs).

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49182076#main

• College AU, Fluff *16.6k

> This Feels Like Falling in Love =

Five kisses throughout their lives, and the one that started it all.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49162735/chapters/124043815?

• Podfic, 4+1 fic, Kid fic *3k

> Closest I Get = (Series)

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal or anything, right? It can be just about sex, nothing else.” Charles steps forward, into Max’s space. Reaches out a hand, lets it run over Max’s cheek, leans a little closer. “Just sex,” he whispers, in the ever diminishing space between them as Max leans into his touch.

“Fuck,” Max whispers, screwing his eyes shut, breathing deeply through his mouth. “I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t-“

Charles cuts him off by lurching forward and pressing a kiss to Max’s mouth, quick and fleeting, but then Max groans, grabs Charles’s waist, pulls him closer, kisses him hard. Charles melts into it immediately, overwhelmed by Max’s scent, by his hands on Charles’s waist, his mouth on Charles’s.

It’s like something clicks into place, when they kiss.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49230871#main

• A/B/O, Alpha!Max, Omega!Charles, PWP, Angst *4.8k

> Heart Held Close = (End of Series)

“Just sex,” Charles whispers in his ear, and he’s coming closer closer closer and Max is getting swallowed by the sun, Charles’s smell bright and enticing and all around him.

Max let’s out a heartfelt, “Fuck,” as he feels himself tipping forward ever so slightly, his rut dumb brain taking over, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head that is still screaming at him that this is a terrible idea. “I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t-“ He tries, but it’s weak at best.

And then Charles kisses him, and it’s all over.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49276354#main

• A/B/O, Smut, Angst, Happy Ending *7.8k

> A Force More Powerful Than Gravity =

Charles studies goop in his lab. Goop is actually a very attractive alien.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LestappenWeekSummer2023/works/49302043#main

• Non-Driver AU, Alien!Max, Scientist!Charles, Fluff, Slight Angst *4.5k

> Give Yourself Up To Me =

For the safety of his people, Crown Prince Charles is willing to do anything.

Anything.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49300402/chapters/124403428?

• Non-Driver AU, Royalty AU, Angst *1.5k

> Amazing Grace =

“I win!” Charles announces when he has Max pinned to the ground by his wrists, a wild grin on his lips. His chest is heaving, there’s some dirt on his cheek and in his hair, and Max can’t help but grin up at him.

“No you don’t,” He argues, mirth in his eyes. “You only win when you capture my sword!”

-

They're teenagers. And then they're not.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49325872/chapters/124469185?

• Non-Driver AU, Swordsmen AU, Angst *1.5k

> Red Bull’s Golden Puppy =

In a memory box tucked away deep in their minds, Charles, Max and Chloe Leclerc-Verstappen, share their biggest memories and photographs. Adopting a pet named after the original Red Bull golden boy Sebastian Vettel would soon join that club.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LestappenWeekSummer2023/works/49313617#main

• Kid!fic, Future family, Established Relationship, Fluff *1.4k

> This Love Asylum =

“Are we still having dinner with your mother?,” Max asked, his arm still on Charles’s waist, Sebastian’s low whistle now hard to miss. “I didn’t know you went to dinner with the Leclercs.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, I do! My mum told Pascale I was only having takeout when I’m here. It worries her, you know? So when we’re here, I’m supposed to have dinner with Charlie and his mum at least once a wee—ow! Hey!” Charles had elbowed Max, causing the latter the pout while another pout was already on Charles’s face.

“I didn’t know Sophie and Pascale were friends either,” Sebastian was having the time of his life and Max being oblivious about Charles’s whole situation was the icing on the proverbial cake.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LestappenWeekSummer2023/works/49312864#main

• Fluff, Sebastian!POV *1.5k

> Dangerous Games =

Too late, Charles realises he’s been standing rooted in his spot, and Max looks over his shoulder, a questioning look on his face, “Is everything al—,”

“Suck my dick.” Charles blurts out.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. Charles’ cheeks are bright red. “What?”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/collections/LestappenWeekSummer2023/works/49276297#main

• Non-Driver AUCollege AU, Blowjob, Slight Smut *1.9k

> Eighteenth Summer =

Max wanted to burn it into his memory, engrave bits and pieces of it into each of his senses. The way the blue sky reflected off of Charles’s massive sunglasses, the smell of the hot asphalt mixing with Charles’s cologne, the nearly hysterical sound of their laughter as their playlist finally shuffled to Mr. Brightside; everything felt so precious. So fleeting. Moments memorialized on the 101 northbound, flying out of their open windows and away from his greedy fingers.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49253491/chapters/124280527?

• Fluff, Angst, Happy Ending, Summer in California, High School AU *5k

> Middle Child Syndrome +

After all, Charles being a middle child always made a lot of sense to Max.

Max’s unwillingness to deny Charles anything always made a little less sense to Max.

Standing on the third place podium beneath the Monegasque flag made a lot less sense to Max.

The fact that he wasn’t mad about it, a warm sense of acquiescence spurred by Charles’s smile, made it all click.

He was in love with Charles Leclerc, and he always had been.

Or: A small collection of memories leading up to a realization on the podium of Baku 2023

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46979311/chapters/118348648#workskin

• Fluff, Realization of Feelings *3.6k

> Rules of Engagement =

“Take me with you then!” Max felt his eyes go wide, his jaw literally dropping at the suggestion. “Tell them I’m like. Say I’m your fiancé, mate.”

The heat had melted Charles’s brain, Max decided, staring at him blankly.

“No.” He deadpanned.

“Mate it’s genius! You won’t have to do anything, just stand there. Let me handle it. Them. The women.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49006156#main

• Fake Relationship, Roommates, Non-Driver AU, Socially inept!Max *7.2k

> All the Stars We Cannot See = ♥️

Sitting on his roof, bathed in wintery silence, Max prayed to be rescued. To whom, he wasn’t sure. Maybe the force that branded his wrist, the universal power that decided who to tie him with forever. Perfectly. Something like fate.

Max prayed to fate, then.

“Am I interrupting something?” The man’s accent was French, his tone unusually assertive for a question of intrusion.

“It’s not my roof,” Max shrugged, hopping back onto the ledge.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49182697/chapters/124096612?

• Soulmate AU, Non-Driver!Charles, Mentions of Child Abuse, Mentions of Sickness, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Happy Ending *9.8k

> Lie to Me =

5 times they told the truth + 1 time they tried to lie

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49206214?view_adult=true#main

• Soulmates AU, Angst, Smut *5.3k

> Shut Up and Drive +

Max pointed at Charles’ bags. ‘Is this all you're bringing or will there be more?’

Oh so he was making fun of him now, well Charles could do the same. ‘You mean more than the four white t-shirts you brought?’

Max blinked at him for a couple of seconds before his entire face lit up and he giggled. He giggled.

‘Good one, and I actually brought five t-shirts,’ Max replied, still smiling.

Was he serious? Charles hoped not.

OR: Charles and Max are 'forced' to go on a road trip together, whatever could go wrong?

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49181029/chapters/124092070#workskin

• Road-trip, One bed trope, Enemies to Lovers, WIP *

> Partiality =

“Okay, this is—,” Max stops himself. His eyebrows knit together and he’s obviously frustrated with something. “I know this isn’t what you wanted,” He says slowly, when he gathers his thoughts. “But I’m not going to force you to treat me like your—,” Max makes a face. “Your alpha.”

Charles coughs. “But… You are.” He points out.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49230259?view_adult=true#main

• A/B/O, Alpha!Max, Omega!Charles, Fluff *2.4k

> You Went, and It Was Night =

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Max says suddenly. His voice sounds husky, used, wrecked. It sends a shiver down Charles’ spine. He did that. “You’re being very loud.”

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49182070/chapters/124095055?

• Slight Angst, Fluff, Charles is thinking *900 words

> Sort You Out (Heart Out Series) =

Charles can't tell which is worse — that he can't remember the sex he had with his childhood rival, or how according to her, it wasn't even good.

!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/49340395/chapters/124508077?

• Girl!Max, Pining Charles, Slight smut *6.3k

Here are some of the best authors in the Lestappen field. Please go follow and send them some love!! They are doing the Lord’s work!!!!!!

@nyoomfruits (nyoomfruits on Ao3)

@drivestraight (Linearity on Ao3)

@fabbyf1 (Fabby on Ao3)

@charlescoded (lazarusgreeneyes on Ao3)

@fueledbyremembering (NovaCloud on Ao3)

@wanderingblindly (Wanderingblindly on Ao3)

@hoewedeshummels (Monzas on Ao3)

-Only Ao3 username is known-

Actparci

Anney

*Authors, if you want to be untagged, or you want your fics pulled from the list, shoot me a dm :)

[roselilies]

[trashytracktales]

Hey! Please do a lando x ex!reader. They break up after a lot of arguments due to being away from each other so much and then they meet a few months later and hook up. Like angst in the beginning then lots of smut.

If it's meant to fall apart | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── I was actually planning to write something similar for so long. Thank you for the request and I hope you like it 🤍

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𐙚 summary ──── Surprisingly, months apart haven’t dulled the connection between them. After a night of passion and honesty on both sides, maybe there is a future where they can make all the right decisions, after all.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x ex!reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── +18, mature/sexual content, lots of angst & back-and-forth, fluff & smut, teasing, praising, explicit language, unprotected sex, mention of alcohol and drinking, swearing, not the healthiest relationship I've ever written tbh (the toxicity is implicit tho), overstimulation, pussy-drunk Lando, Max F. & Ethan aka FEEFA cameo.

𐙚 word count ──── 10.6k (Thank you to everyone who voted on this poll I posted the other day, I didn’t expect to see so many 🥺).

𐙚 date ──── Nov. 27, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── Guys, look. I know it's A LOT 🥴 I kinda let myself run with this one because I haven't posted anything in like a week or so. I still have 2 requests I'm working on, so don't give up on me yet 🤞🏻

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

SHE'S NOT ENTIRELY sure how long they’ve been dancing, but she hasn't finished her drink yet. Time feels like an illusion, blurring the edges of her vision with every new rhythm of the night. For the first time in months, she feels a little lighter, her friends’ energy pulling her out of her own head — and apartment, where she locked herself in after the break-up.

The club is packed tonight, bodies pressed together in a sea of drunken, sweaty chaos. Neon lights bounce off every surface, painting the room in vivid purples, blues, and pinks. It's not usually her style — not anymore — but she figured it won't hurt to let lose for a couple of hours.

It’s only when she steps away from the dance floor, her feet hurting and her head buzzing, that she spots him.

Why tonight, of all nights?

Why here, of all places?

Why him, of all people?

He’s leaning casually against the bar, a glass in hand, chatting with a few familiar faces. Faces that she can't help but miss.

She stopped talking to Max — well, Max stopped talking to her after ending things with Lando, too upset that she toyed with his best friend's heart for ‘no apparent reason’. Their friendship dissolved under pressure, fragile as a cheap plastic cup in the grip of sulfuric acid. But Max wasn't the only one who took it personally. That's why she needed to cut ties with everyone from her past. She needed new friends — her own friends —, she needed a new place and new clothes, and to rebrand herself from scratch. Which she did.

She thought she had made it through, but the past has its twisted ways of coming back when you least expect it.

Now, the sight of him, so vivid and real, makes her chest tighten.

She stops in place, hoping he doesn’t notice her, but then his eyes flick in her direction and, for a brief moment, neither of them blinks, the noise around them fading into a dull murmur.

He straightens slightly, his relaxed posture gone as his brows knit together. There’s something unreadable in his body language — surprise? Excitement? Confusion? Pain? She doesn’t know, but it mirrors the knot twisting in her stomach.

Her friends call out to her, pulling her attention briefly, and when she looks back, he’s still staring. Except now, he’s moving, weaving his way through the crowd toward her.

Oh, hell no.

Her heart starts to race, a mix of adrenaline and something far more complicated than fear, as she rushes to walk away; she's fought for far too long, and now her instinct is to fly as soon as she senses danger.

Unfortunately, she's not quick enough.

“Hey,” says Lando when he gets closer, his voice low but audible over the music.

Hearing him gives her goosebumps, hating the way her body is betraying her. It’s been months since she’s heard his voice, but it still hits her the same way: sharp and unrelenting.

She turns around, forcing a smile, “Hi, Lando,” she manages, her voice steadier than she feels, thinking she should try acting if she makes it out alive from this encounter.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his tone careful, yet extremely suggestive.

It makes her stomach twist again.

He used that line the very first night they met, his boyish grin lit by the dim, flickering lights of another club, in another city. Potentially another life, she's not sure. She remembers the way he had leaned in, so full of confidence and asked the same exact question with a mischievous glint in his eye.

It feels too deliberate now, too heavy with the weight of their past for her to ignore.

“All set,” she finally says, her voice quieter than she intended, as she raises her half-full glass in her hand. “Thanks.”

For a moment, it feels like they’re strangers meeting for the first time. Except they’re not, and their history is hanging heavily in the air between them.

Lando nods, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, “How about this, let me join you for that drink?”

She takes a look to where her friends are dancing, then she turns back to him, “I'm here with my friends.”

It's a pathetic excuse, she knows that. But she has no time to think of something else. Not when her brain is suddenly all scrambled and can't form a single coherent thought.

Lando frowns, disappointed, but not willing to give up that easy. “Come on, just a quick catch-up and then you can go back to your friends. Mine won't mind,” he shrugs, pointing at the bar, where the others are following their every move like a bunch of curious minions.

She catches Max lifting his glass in her direction, and Ethan, waving frantically.

Against her better judgment, she nods.

“Okay,” she murmurs, “Let's catch up,” she spits the words, sounding a bit too sarcastic. Still, it makes Lando smile.

His shoulders relax slightly, relief softening the tension in his body. He gestures toward a quieter corner of the club, away from the pounding bass and the sea of bodies. His first instinct was to take her hand in his, but since that's over the line, Lando keeps looking back, making sure she follows him. And she does. Like a naive, lost puppy that hasn't learned a single thing in the past five months, apparently.

The crowd surges around them, chaotic and loud, and before she can react, someone stumbles into her, their elbow catching her arm. As a result, she's thrown off balance, her feet slipping on the slick floor. Gasping, she's bracing for the inevitable fall that… never comes.

Lando’s hand shoots out, catching her waist and pulling her upright. His grip is firm, grounding, and suddenly she’s pressed against him, her chest brushing his.

“Careful,” says Lando, his lips close enough to her ear for the voice to cut through the noise.

The spot where he's touching her is burning her skin. She looks up, speaking with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, I'm good.”

The club around them fades away, and all she can feel is the warmth of his hand on her waist and the familiar scent of his cologne — a smell she used to know so well. It is almost intoxicating, and it makes her mouth water. She realizes that's what she was missing the most.

Lando smiles faintly, his hand slipping away as if he’s reluctant to let go. “Always got you.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, sensing the double meaning behind his affirmation. So, she nods and lets him guide her the rest of the way.

They find a small, semi-private booth near the exit, far enough from the main dance floor that the music dulls to a manageable volume. He gestures for her to sit first, then slides in across from her.

She fiddles with the edge of her glass, feeling his eyes on her.

“So,” she starts, leaning back against the booth, “You're here.”

Here, as in back home.

“For a week or so, yeah. Got a bit of a break between Brazil and Vegas.”

She nods, emptying the rest of her drink in one go, “How’ve you been?”

Lando shrugs slowly, “Alright. Busy with work and everything,” he trails off, his gaze dropping to her lips for a brief moment. “It’s not the same,” he continues, his smile fading away. “What about you, what have you been up to?”

She needs superhuman powers to stop herself from scoffing in his pretty face. It’s such a simple question, yet it feels loaded, heavy with all the things they haven’t said to each other in almost half a year.

“It's been… peaceful. I moved to another neighborhood. Kept busy, distracted.”

Lando hums, his expression unreadable for some reason. “Yeah, I get that. You look great, by the way,” he states it as a fact, his voice soft but unwavering.

She hesitates, then looks up at him, really looks at him. His face is the same and yet… not really. The boyishness is still there, but there’s a weariness in his eyes that's somehow new. Plus some facial hair she always begged him to try out. It tugs at something inside her, something she’s not sure she’s ready to face. Because it hurts. Because it annoys her. Because, after everything, she's still not over it.

“Cheers,” she replies, hoping he won't catch the blush in her cheeks. “I kind of hoped you would look like shit when I saw you again,” she admits. “You know, I'm talking no front teeth and severely balding. But, oh well. You too.”

Lando's smile widens, making everything infinitely worse for her.

He wears a black shirt that clings to his frame in a way that highlights the muscles in his arms. His black cap is pulled low, worn backwards in that signature way he always did, giving him that effortlessly cool vibe. His eyes are still the same, though. Dark, piercing, the same ones that could make her heart beat faster even after everything that’s happened.

“I thought about you a lot over these months, you know,” Lando finds himself saying, chewing on his lower lip.

She shoots him a surprised look.

As if, she thinks. His Instagram feed would say otherwise.

“You did?” she ends up asking, curiosity getting the best of her.

A hint of vulnerability creeps into his voice, “Of course. I've missed you.”

She laughs dryly, “But it's been good for us, right? We just established we both look great, no constant fighting, no slamming doors, no smashed phones…” she says, looking at him intently.

He can't sustain that for long, so he looks down at his shoes, slightly ashamed, remembering how bad it used to get when the distance between them felt too much to handle. He remembers the frustration, and the helplessness he felt when he couldn’t reach her, because he couldn’t make things right. He did smash his phone once, in a fit of anger, because he couldn’t get ahold of her for hours — not his proudest moment, that's for sure.

Lando swallows hard, “Yeah, it has been nice to have some distance. I guess it makes the heart grow fonder, right?”

“Hmm,” she hums, letting her eyes travel across the room, scanning random faces and wondering how life would be if she were someone else, “I don't know about that.”

She knows, in fact. But the words pause in her throat, too tangled up in memories. When he finally looks up, she's holding his gaze for just a beat longer than she should, and she wonders if he can feel it too — that familiar pull, like gravity, drawing them back together once again.

“I know—” Lando begins, not sure from which angle to approach. “I know it was the right choice at the time, but I can't help but wonder what things could have been if I'd fought harder for you.”

“Come on, Lando,” she laughs, unamused, giving her head a shake, “We would've ended up in another vicious circle, no matter what. It's always like that with us, isn't it?”

A part of him knows she's right. Still, “We'll never know.”

“Well, maybe it's better that way,” she manages, her voice lacking conviction.

“Or maybe it’s not,” he contradicts her, his words carrying a weight that presses on both of them. “You never think about us?”

Another sharp, dry laugh — it's either this, or she'll start crying. “I am actively trying not to,” she admits, her tone tinged with exasperation. “What’s the point, Lan? Thinking about what could’ve been won’t change what happened. You were always gone, and I couldn't spend my life following you around like a headless chicken. We had a good time, but it was never going to last,” she says the last part mostly as a reminder for herself. “Not in those circumstances.”

His jaw tightens. “You think it was easy for me? That it didn’t tear me up knowing I couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted me to?”

“I didn't say that,” her eyes snap to his, “We simply weren't working. We were too good at breaking each other.”

Lando leans back in his chair, frustration visible on his face. He hates that she's right, but it doesn’t stop the ache in his chest.

His jaw clenches, “I just… I don’t want to believe that’s all we were. Breaking each other.”

Her expression softens a little at his words, “Not all. But enough to make us miserable.”

For a while, the air between them feels heavier, the noise fading into the background. He wants to say something, anything, to counter her point, but all he can do is look at her and ask himself if they were, indeed, playing a losing game back then.

“Did you meet someone?” his question flies out of nowhere.

Lando looks at her with anticipation, sensing the hesitation.

“I did,” she replies, nodding slowly.

“And?”

She meets his eyes for a split second before looking away again, fixing her gaze somewhere on the table. “And we're happily married with twins on the way. What do you think? I just. Couldn’t.”

Lando's stomach drops, trying his best to remain calm, his hands clenching into fists. “You couldn’t what? Be with them?”

She shakes her head, her movements slow and deliberate, as if choosing her words carefully. “It was too soon.”

Her answer only leaves him with more questions. “So, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know what it means,” she rushes to say, her tone tinged with irritation. It’s clear she’s as unsure as he is, but that only makes it harder for Lando to process her reaction.

He runs a hand over his face, his exasperation bubbling to the surface. “I’m just trying to understand,” he says, his voice quieter but no less intense. “Because I've also tried.”

She looks directly at him now, her eyes narrowing slightly. “And?” she challenges in the same manner, her tone carrying just a hint of defiance.

“They weren't you,” says Lando, the truth of his statement hanging between them like a heavy anchor.

They remain silent after that.

She wants to ask him why — why he still cares, and why it hurts so much to be in the same space again after all they’ve been through. Nothing comes out, though; she already has the answer to that. They didn't break up because they stopped loving each other. They had both been too caught up in their own worlds to find any kind of balance. That broke them up.

He wants her to speak. He needs to hear her speak. To react. But when she says nothing in return, there is a brief second when he feels like giving up for good; he can't do anything if she's already made a decision. He knows how stubborn she is.

Lando nods to himself while getting up and start walking toward the exit, his thoughts all over the place.

The night air greets them with a quiet, cooling embrace as they step out of the club. Of course she follows, and she hates herself for that. But she can't help it — it's instinct. Like a magnetic force he's always had over her.

On the other hand, it's how they always communicated, through gestures and actions rather than words.

The soft click of her heels against the pavement gives Lando hope. He slows down so she can catch up, and then they walk side by side, without talking. The background noise of the city keeps them company, and by the time she decides to break the silence, he stops abruptly.

His voice sounds so small now, like a child asking his parents why can't he eat his chocolate bar before dinner.

“I know it feels so silly looking back,” says Lando, as though afraid to shatter the superficial peace between them. “We did so many things wrong, but I think we also did a lot of things right.”

She hesitates, her eyes dropping to the ground where a patch of light from a distant street light catches the edge of her shoe. Her arms fold tightly across her chest, while trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Yeah, breaking up was one of the right things,” she says thoughtfully, though her voice has a trace of bitterness behind it. “Before that, we tried so hard to make it work that we ended up burning each other alive.”

It's crazy how simple words can cause physical pain so quickly.

“Yet we're still here,” he reminds her. “Knowing what we know now, maybe we wouldn’t burn so fast this time. And isn’t it worth it, even if it only lasts for a little while? We were so happy at the start.”

That’s what he clings to. The laughter, the stolen moments, the way they fit together so effortlessly — she can’t argue with that. Their beginning was a beautiful dream, but it’s the nightmare that followed that keeps her guarded now, even though all she wants is to crack his ribcage open and slip inside him so they will never be apart again.

Her voice shakes as she tries her best to make him see her side, the memories spilling out like water breaking through a dam. “I had to put myself back together, Lando. Piece by piece. And I was all alone.” She forces herself to meet his gaze, finally, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Turns out, our friends were actually your friends, and I had to go through the worst breakup of my life with no one by my side. I had to move, I had to build an entire life from pretty much nothing. And I had to do everything alone, because I didn’t just lose you. I lost everything the moment I made you the center of my universe.”

Her words knock the air out of his lungs, guilt clawing at his insides. “Look, I know I should have been there,” says Lando, his voice barely steady. “Fuck me. I wasn’t supposed to let you go in the first place, alright? I should’ve been a better boyfriend, and I should’ve fought harder to make it work, using what we had then. But you did fuck with my head, and I thought being away would help.”

The first tear spills down her cheek, and she wipes it away hastily, as if she could erase the vulnerability altogether.

“It did help,” she agrees. “I know I can live without it now.”

Lando freezes for a split second, then stepping dangerously closer to her. “So, you’ll be fine if we stay broken up?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper.

She nods, but it’s shaky. And when she takes a step back, trying to put distance between them, Lando decides he gave her enough space. Fuck that. He's not thinking anymore, not with his brain, at least. He closes the distance again, his hands finding her waist and pulling her close in one swift motion.

It’s impulsive, desperate even. But he doesn’t care. The moment he feels her presence in his personal space, the fire he’s tried to smother for months, roars back to life, more powerful than ever. And just like that, everything it's right again. The way her body fits against his, the familiarity of it all, makes his heart race in his chest.

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, baby,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “Why can’t we at least try, hm? You told me it was too soon for someone else. Maybe it’s because it’s supposed to be me.”

Her breath catches at the sudden closeness, at the rawness of his voice. She's unsure of what to do with her hands, until they hover awkwardly by his shoulders.

“You're not fair,” she whispers, her voice slightly trembling. “You can’t just accidentally waltz back into my life and say things like that.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about being fair,” he says, his voice firm. “I just want us back. Simple as that.”

Her tears blur the edges of Lando's face when she tries to push him away, but his grip won't let her. Not this time.

“It's not that simple, and you know it,” she says. “We’ll only end up hurting each other again.”

“Then we hurt, so what?” he counters, his voice soft but sure. “At least we’ll know we tried until there wasn't anything worth fighting for. I'm not done with you, baby. Are you?”

Her hands finally move, trembling as they brush against his cheeks. They're not as soft as they use to be, his little facial hair scratching slightly at the pads of her fingers. The connection sends a jolt through them both as her touch lingers, trailing up to his hair. She pulls at his cap with both hands, placing it on her own head with a weak smile.

“It’s longer than you used to wear it,” she notices, her tears catching the street lights.

Lando’s heart clenches, managing to shoot a small smile in return, “I thought maybe I’d try growing it out. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she admits as she tries to messily style his hair with her fingers. “It suits you.”

For a little while, they’re trapped in their own bubble. Her touch feels like home, and all Lando can think of is that he can't lose it again.

“I’m not asking you to decide now,” he finally says, his thumbs tracing soft circles on her waist. “I just need to know I’m not the only one still holding on.”

TWENTY MINUTES LATER, they're stumbling into her apartment. She knows it's reckless, and she's basically throwing away five months of progress, but it wasn't going to last, anyway.

Addictions are very hard to keep under control, especially when they have curly, dark hair and give you bed eyes.

“This way,” she says, her lips swollen from kissing all the way to her door.

Lando doesn’t have time to adjust, his head already spinning with hundreds of scenarios that fly tirelessly through his mind. However, the only thing that captivates him at the moment is her, and the way her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans. She tugs him closer, her lips crashing onto his once again, their breaths blending in a frantic exchange of need and uncertainty.

He watches her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her movements clumsy but determined. His heart reaches his throat, swallowing hard, as his hands move from her waist to his belt, blindly unbuckling it before tossing it carelessly aside. The sound of leather hitting the floor barely registers over the erratic, overlapping rhythm of them kissing.

Then, he sees it. The spark in her eyes she used to have when she looked at him — it catches him off guard, giving him hope. He follows her as she moves slowly, her back toward the bed, her movements precise, like a cat's. She lies down, propping herself up on her elbows, while he takes cautious steps closer, his shirt hanging open to reveal his chest and toned abs.

But just as he leans forward, her high heel presses lightly against his chest, stopping him.

Lando freezes, his hands bracing on either side of her foot, tracing his palm up and down her leg, as his eyes dart up to meet hers.

“You can look,” she says, catching a glimpse of confusion in his eyes. “But for now, no touching.”

He frowns, clenching his jaw at her request. It would make sense for her to bring him to her place only to torture him, but she can't be that heartless. Right? The sight of her, stretched out on the bed with her foot holding him at bay, is almost too much to handle already.

“You're not fair,” he mutters under his breath, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I don't give a flying fuck about being fair,” she repeats his words from earlier, her foot staying firm against his chest.

The power is in her hands, and she's planning on using them properly tonight.

“No touching,” she repeats, determined.

Lando's hands fall at his sides.

Slowly, she slides her foot down, letting it drag across his chest, making a quick stop on his lower abdomen before settling on the bed. Her gaze locks onto his, a daring glint in her eyes as she spreads her legs, revealing the black lace panties. The dress she's wearing lifts up her thighs of its own accord, leaving Lando chocking on air for a brief moment. His lips part as she trails her fingers down her own body, teasing herself the way she’s done countless nights before.

Nights when he wasn’t there.

Nights when she was alone, chasing a high only his touch could give her.

“Wanna see how I got through five months without you?” she asks, her hands traveling way down, hooking her fingers to pull at the soft material.

His breath hitches, the sight of her undressing before him so painfully slowly making his chest ache with longing and guilt.

“I thought of you,” she continues, letting a small whimper out when the soft lace peels off with a little resistance from her already soaked pussy. “Your hands, your mouth… the way you sound when you're turned on,” she discards the panties at the foot of the bed, her breath catching in her throat as she glances at him through her lashes. “Such a delicious combination between your sleepy voice and that low octave you hit when you're drunk.”

Lando’s mouth goes dry, his hands twitching at his sides, itching to lean over and collect the material off the floor to stuff it into his pocket as a souvenir. He’s never felt so powerless and yet so utterly consumed by someone before.

“Will you let me?” she asks, her lips curving into a smile that’s equally wicked and vulnerable, “Show you?”

Her name leaves Lando’s lips in a protest while he takes an instinctive step forward, but she stops him with her foot once again. It’s a punishment, and he knows it. She’s showing him exactly what he missed, and exactly how she wanted him for so long.

Lando's breath is shallow, his chest rising and falling as he watches her. Helpless. His every nerve is tuned to her, eyes following how her fingers slide so easily between her folds, spreading the wetness as she teases her hole. Of course she’s taking her time with it, only to make sure he registers every tiny detail, just in case he forgot.

Her head tilts to the side with a quiet gasp when she pushes slowly inside. The sound of her wet entrance is enough to make his knees weak, still, his body turns to stone.

On the other hand, his heart is a mess of pride and frustration — pride that she still feels comfortable to be this vulnerable and open in front of him, frustration that he has to see her like this, untouchable. That's why he's not even blinking, too afraid he'll miss a thing.

She starts to gently rock her hips against the bed, fucking her fingers in and out, her body trembling as her whimpers fill the room. It's too much for Lando, but luckily, she didn't say anything about moving. His legs finally give out, and he falls to his knees, the sound of his breath ragged and uneven as he gets closer to her.

Yes, she's in charge — for now, at least — but he can't stop his words slipping out. Quiet, yet demanding.

“Slower,” he says, fixing his eyes on the way her fingers slide over her clit. “Don't rush it, please. I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze meets his, and for a moment, neither of them says anything else. She sees the vulnerability etched into his features, the way his body betrays him, shaking with restraint, completely at her mercy.

He looks like a man unmoored, defeated. So beautiful.

“Lando…” she breaths heavily, her back arching against her own hand, that flattered slightly at his words, a blush creeping up her neck and cheeks.

She hates how much he still affects her, obeying him without questioning his ways. Like no time has passed whatsoever.

When they make eye contact again, it's like they silently agree to go with it; whatever tonight will bring.

“That's is,” says Lando with satisfaction as she resumes her movements. “You gorgeous little thing. So beautiful when you listen, yeah?”

She nods, feeling him leaning forward just slightly, close enough that she can feel his warmth on her skin, without him touching her in any way. The air feels electric, her breath stuttering as she keeps fucking up her fingers under Lando's careful guidance. He watches every motion, his jaw tightening, ignoring the ache in his boxers the moment she finds her sweet spot, crying at how good it feels. She tries to muffle the moan, but Lando catches the hesitation, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

“No, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you,” he implores, exhaling sharply. “God, you're perfect. I could watch you forever.”

Lando can't help but notice how receptive she becomes at his words, her body tightening at the way he's praising her. As a result, she presses her fingers harder onto her clit, feeling the pressure building inside.

“Mhm, Lan…”

“I'm with you, baby. Keep going,” he encourages her, his gaze fixating on the slickness dripping between her legs. “Fucking hell. You're already so close, aren't you?”

It's like every word gets caught in her throat, and the only way she can reply to him is with a pathetic, desperate whimper.

In hindsight, she's never came from her fingers so quickly before, but the wave that’s hitting her from every direction right now is too intense to process right away.

It happens too fast, and the next thing she's aware of is Lando's voice, bringing her back.

“Please,” she hears him beg, managing to give him a slight nod of her head in return.

In that moment, the lights go out. Even so, Lando wants to be patient, as his index finger lightly brushes against her warmth. She exhales, giving up control, her gaze locked on him as if he is the only one that ever knew her. Meticulous, Lando traces his long, rough finger through her wetness, causing a shock to run through her whole body as it moves up and down her clit.

She thought she already crossed her limit, but then he leans down to press his mouth on her — deliberately, unapologetically, thirsty.

Lando lets out a deep, guttural groan that reverberates against her, causing her hips to twitch slightly. His tongue is wet and warm on her pulsating clit, leaving her breathless while he tastes her like it's the last time.

“My sweet, sweet baby,” he whispers, his voice intimate and personal, the words enveloping her in layers and layers of honey.

Feeling his warm breath on her center causes a surge of tension within her, making her walls tighten as his tongue explores within. He can't help but smile just as she leans into him, her body responding naturally, and he grips her thighs, closing the remaining gap between them. At that, she instantly buries her fingers in his curls, her hips mimicking his head movements.

“Oh, fuck,” she exhales abruptly.

The rest is pure bliss — his tongue licking in deep strokes, his muffled moans between her thighs, and the way he can’t seem to let go of her, gripping her tightly because he’s been deprived of her taste for so long.

Just for a brief second, Lando raises his head and, as his gaze remains fixed on her eyes, his mouth sucks gently at her clit. She's never seen him so desperate before, the sight of him owning her like that covering her entire body in chills.

Gradually, his kisses become way too powerful, which forces her to quickly grab his messy curls and pull him closer, unable to control herself anymore.

Without any warning, she screams his name as her climax hits her like a tidal wave for the second time in a row.

His growling makes her thighs quiver in his grasp, the vibrations intensifying her pleasure as her body convulses with each new sensation, while Lando’s tongue continues licking her during every heartbeat and shiver.

Next time she looks at him, his lips shine, his cheeks are red, and his gaze so intense that it causes her heart to skip a beat, creating a connection that seems more profound than any physical sensation she's just experienced.

He didn’t try to give her the best she’s ever had, but attempt to remind her how well he knows her body — to show her she still belongs to him.

“You’re so pretty,” says Lando, keeping his eyes on her, while he presses one finger back inside her cunt to test how thight she is after her second orgasm.

“Lando,” she spits his name at the unexpected touch, still too sensitive, “What… are you doing?” she gasps softly, a mixture between a sigh and a moan, when Lando's finger pulls out and glides across her wet, delicate clit once again.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Lando murmurs against her thigh, his voice low and reverent.

He grins in her direction, while his thumb circles her clit with precise intention, like a wheel gripping the perfect racing line. Sure of himself, Lando continues his movements, realizing how overstimulated she is, as he gets up to hover above her. Her hips buck instinctively into his hand, a jolt of reaction she can’t control.

Seeing Lando on top makes her react on instinct, wrapping one arm around his neck, while the other hand travels down his chest. The heat pooling in her stomach rises fast, an apex she didn’t expect to reach so soon. It’s intoxicating, her body spiraling as her mind blanks out the world beyond him.

“Lan—” she gasps, her back arching as if trying to escape, though every fiber of her betrays that she wants more.

“Come on, baby,” he says, increasing the pace. “You can give me one more. You're doing so well, I know you can,” his voice is a blend of dominance and desire, while his fingers press into her, knowing exactly where to go and how to bend, “Like that, see? So easy for me to read you. I could fuck my fingers into your pretty hole all night long and you'd still come for me every single time, wouldn't you, baby?”

Shaking, she clings to his neck, crying out his name in spasms. He loops his free arm around her, gently kissing her cheek — a gesture so tender and innocent that makes her heart grow ten times in size.

She grips his shoulder with one hand, her eyes closing in pleasure. “I can’t—” she chokes, the words tumbling out between ragged breaths.

In an attempt to get her power back, she tries to push at his wrist, but his arm steadies her, determined.

“Of course you can, love,” says Lando, his voice a gentle command, the firmness in his tone like a driver refusing to lift his foot off the pedal, curious to see how far he can take it.

Her hand clenches around his arm as his thumb presses against her clit with ruthless precision. She reacts on instinct, muscles coiling tight as she bucks against his hand, not sure what controls her body anymore, since her brain got disconnected long ago. The slik rhythm of Lando's fingers becomes too much, and she knows she's close when he starts curling them inside at the perfect angle.

“La— Fuck, baby, that feels so good,” her voice is a high-pitched cry now, laced with desperation. “I’m going—”

“I know, baby. So pretty. Look at you, making such a mess for me,” he urges, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Her body tightens as pleasure explodes within her, blinding and all-consumming — a full-throttle sensation, unrelenting in its intensity. She sobs his name as liquid warmth spills from her pussy, coating Lando’s fingers. He doesn’t stop there, though, his hand continuing its pace, coaxing every last wave of her climax as his arm holds her securely against him.

“God, I've missed you.”

When her breathing slows down, he falls down on top of her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her legs shake slightly, and her fingers curl weakly into his bare chest as he cradles her close.

Lando presses a tender kiss against her temple, his voice filling the quiet. “It wasn’t acciedntal,” he confesses.

She blinks rapidly, tilting her head to look at him, confused, “What?”

“Earlier,” Lando clarifies, “You said I was accidentally waltzing back into your life — it wasn’t accidental,” he repeats.

“What do you mean?”

Lando places a few more kisses on the heated skin of her neck, sucking in a couple of bruises, the gesture meant to buy himself more time for the storm raging in his head to stop.

“Lando,” she pulls him out of it.

“Been trying to figure out how to do this for a while. I just… couldn’t stay away from you anymore,” he admits, looking up at her, his eyes pleading. “I had Max playing detective while I was away.”

She pushes him off her to sit up on the bed, pulling at the edges of her dress. “Seriously, what?” her tone is not defensive — at least not yet — but there’s a sharpness to it that cuts into him.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to explain, “Look, I didn’t stalk you or anything. Nor Max,” he continues, getting up to stand next to her. “I didn’t even know where you lived until you brought me here. I swear.”

She wraps her arms around her own body, needing something to ground herself, “What did you do, Lando?” the girl asks, her voice quieter now.

He swallows, “I just asked him to check in on you. To see if you were okay.”

“And how did he do that?”

“He saw you tagged in a pic on this girl's account, and then did some research on the people you were with, paid some dudes to find out if their records were clean—” he starts chuckling when her fist hits his shoulder, playfully, but still with intent.

“Don’t be a dick,” she warns, her smile giving away the fact that she’s still amused by his immature sense of humor.

“I just… didn’t want to simply appear out of nowhere if you were happy. If you’d moved on,” Lando continues, his tone more serious now. “But when he told me you seemed like you hadn’t, I couldn’t keep pretending like I was fine. I'm really not.”

His honesty was always a breath of fresh air, but now it's suffocating. Hearing him admitting he's not okay, implying that she's the reason why, is simply heartbreaking.

Her arms drop slowly to her sides, her fingers gripping the edge of the bed, “Why now, Lando? And why not text or call?”

He scoffs, “Can you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you would have picked up if I called? Especially given how we left things?”

She cups Lando’s chin in the palm of her hand, forcing him to look at her, “I'll always pick up if it's you.”

The admission makes his chest tighten.

Lando shakes his head, “I promise I’ve tried,” he says, “God, I’ve fucking tried. I threw myself into everything, and nothing worked. Racing, training, sim sessions, going out with the guys — no matter what I did, I was constantly thinking of you. Every night out felt wrong because I wasn’t coming home to you. And I know home is such a vague word for me, because I’m mostly away, but you made every single place feel like home, and that's why it didn't matter where I was at the time. I just needed… need you in ways I can't nor want to explain.”

His confession makes her head spin. The breakup had been difficult for her, but she hadn’t considered how Lando had handled the past five months. All along, she had assumed he wouldn’t miss her — that his life, always on the road and consumed by his own pursuits, was too busy to notice the absence of one small, insignificant detail: her.

She's now realizing how wrong she had been to think that way.

“So…?” she finally asks. “Do you think a few orgasms later can mend what was broken five months ago?”

“What? No, of course not,” he says firmly, leaning forward, his elbows digging into his thighs. “I swear, all I wanted to do tonight was talking to you. I didn’t plan on getting to this point, but I can’t say I’m mad about it,” says Lando, taking her hand in his, brushing his thumb over her knuckles. “You still want me,” she shoots Lando a rapid look, studying his face, “Just like I want you. I see it, I feel it. Baby, I know it.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, the sincerity in his voice cutting through her defenses like a hot knife through butter. She wants to be angry, to accuse him of being selfish, but the truth is, she isn’t. Maybe it’s foolish to believe him, but one thing Lando never did was lie to her. He did worse, yes, but he never lied.

“Lando...” she starts, but her voice trails off, wishing her head would stop spinning so she could think.

“I know I hurt you,” he continues, his voice softer now, “You hurt me. We hurt each other. But we're too good together not to find a way to make it work.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing with memories of their past — the good, especially the bad, and everything else in between. Her fingers toy with the fabric of her dress, her eyes flickering between his face and the floor. The room is heavy with silence and, just for a moment, she lets herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they could find each other again.

Otherwise, if it's meant to fall apart, then let it happen with them gasping for air, tangled together, connected in every way imaginable.

THE MORNING SUN filters shyly through the curtains, soft and golden, spilling across the bed where Lando stirs awake. He’s all alone, the sheets around him rumpled from where she had slept. He blinks up at the ceiling, a little disoriented. Then, he hears the faint sound of running water and realizes she’s in the shower. It makes him feel like everything went back to normal, but he can't be sure of what's going to happen next. He can only speculate and hope, but nothing more than that.

The quiet is interrupted by the persistent buzz of his phone on the nightstand. He reaches for it, still groggy from sleep, scrolling through a handful of texts from last night — banter in the group chat, some Instagram notifications, a few missed calls; nothing too important to catch his eye. He places the phone back on the smooth surface carelessly, and his hand knocks over something solid in the process.

Frowning, he sits up to put it back in its place, and that’s when he sees it — a framed picture of them, taken during a rare quiet weekend in Monaco over a year ago, right at the beginning of their relationship. She looked so happy back then, caught mid-laugh as Lando was gazing at her with an expression so tender that it makes his chest ache now. The weight of the memory hits him harder than he expects, pulling him fully awake.

The sound of the bathroom door opening makes him turn, and he puts the frame back quickly. However, it's enough for her to catch his sudden movement, her eyes flicking to the photo and back to him.

Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “I meant to put that away,” she rushes to say, pulling the towel tighter around her body like it might shield her from the embarrassment.

“Carlos took this one,” his voice is soft, as his eyes shift back to the frame. He picks it up again, turning it in his hands. “You asked me why didn't I call, but… why didn't you call?”

She laughs dryly, crossing the space to take the frame from his hand and placing it face down on the nightstand. She sits down next to him, shrugging.

“And tell you what, Lando? That I couldn’t stop thinking about you even though you broke my heart?” she asks, shaking her head, the embarrassment turning into something closer to frustration. “It’s just a stupid picture, anyway. We barely knew each other when it was taken.”

“It’s not stupid,” he contradicts her vehemently. His hand reaches out tentatively, brushing against her soft forearm. “It's nice to know I wasn’t completely crazy for hoping you felt the same.”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but no words come out. The towel slips slightly, and she clutches it tighter, her defenses crumbling under the weight of his hungry eyes.

“Lando…”

“Leave it there, yeah?” he says, pointing at the picture. “Facing your side of the bed, preferably.”

Seeing her suddenly deep in thought, Lando grabs her wrist and gently pulls her onto his lap, his thumb lightly brushing against her silky skin.

She looks at him, her emotions warring on her face. “If it makes me look less pathetic, it was face down most of the time.”

Lando laughs, his hands finding her waist, then her hips, steadying her on his lap, “I love you,” he says it casually, but it still freezing the blood in her veins.

Her fingers fly towards his mouth to cover his lips, “Don't,” she warns.

“You know I do. I was serious last night. You don't have to decide anything right now, but I'm not going anywhere. It sucks we needed to hurt for a while, we're both at fault, but I never stopped loving you,” he repeats.

“You're so unfair.”

“Don't care, say it back,” he teases, digging his fingers into her skin to tickle her sides.

She starts giggling, “Don't you dare.”

His grin widens, “Or what?” he asks playfully as her hands fly to his, trying to fend him off.

“Lando, I'm serious. Stop it,” her laughter blends with his while he leans in closer, his lips brushing her ear.

“I need to hear it, baby. Please. Just say it back.”

“It back,” she chuckles, feeling his fingers tickling her so mercilessly that tears form in her eyes. Their laughter bubbles over, loud and uninhibited, until she collapses against him. “Okay, fine. Fine,” her breathy voice stops him in place, catching his attention. “I love you, Lando.”

A simple confession; he asked for it. But none of them expected it to hang that heavily between them. It's not a lie — not in the slightest — and Lando knows it.

“Enough to give us a second chance?” he asks.

Her breath catches at the sudden shift in his tone, and before she can reply, his thumb traces her cheek gently.

“I'm so scared,” she admits, leaning into his touch.

Lando sighs, understanding too well where she's coming from, “I know, baby. But I'm even more afraid of losing us again. Losing this…”

His hand slides down her chest, tracing the curve of her breasts. With a gentle movement, he tugs at the corner of her towel, letting it drip smoothly down her body. Patiently, he runs his hands down her waist, moving back up to her chest as they leave goosebumps in their wake. Hungry, his hands rest on her breasts, squeezing them lightly until he feels her nipples in his palms, and she drops her head on his shoulder, whimpering softly.

Memories of last night make her body shudder, feeling the heat between her legs intensifying. Following his lead, her fingers start tugging at the waistband of his boxers, until they slip low on his hips.

Lando moves one hand around her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. He groans against her mouth, his breath hot and ragged, before breaking their connection long enough to kick the boxers aside.

Skin on skin, their bodies align like two puzzle pieces.

She hovers over him, his hands on either side of her, “I wanna take care of you,” he speaks softly, closing his eyes when her forehead rests against his. “Please, let me take care of you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his tone that twists something deep inside her. She's just learned how to be independent again. She can't throw all of it away. She can't let herself slip.

She can't.

“Okay,” she whispers, her voice steady despite the storm raging within her.

Her answer is all that Lando needs to hear. His lips crash back onto hers as he swaps their positions, lowering her onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, warm and solid. And so very real. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word feels like a promise, a vow that he won’t let her slip through his fingers again.

And then, Lando takes control — not the type of dominance he's used to when he steers his car. It's more like devotion; his hands map her body all over again, like a driver learning every twist and turn of a new circuit, his lips following the trail his fingers blaze.

She arches into his touch, responding to him in ways she thought she’d forgotten.

But the body remembers.

And the remembering is, oh, so good.

Last night was just the warm-up, she reckons — an act meant to remind both of them how well they fit together. Lando was gentle, kind, and patient. But now, she sees the shift in him.

His eyes are darker, filled with lust, his touch greedier. She can't help but smile when she realizes that the Lando she knows all too well — the one who’s needy, insatiable, and unrelenting in his desire for her — is still there, and so ready to show off.

Her skin tingles in anticipation as she watches him, knowing exactly what he wants. And for once, she wants it just as much. Maybe even more, considering how her body is acting independently from her brain.

She wants him to give her everything, to burn through her until she’s left gasping and wet and ruined, and she’s ready to meet his hunger with her own.

But before that, “We're not done talking,” she tells him, breathing heavily against his mouth.

“Yeah, we'll talk. Stay with me and we'll talk all you want, baby.”

She wants to protest, but her air gets knocked out of her lungs and her fingernails sink into his shoulders when Lando nudges the head of his cock up and down her slit to collect the wetness. With a gentle kiss on her jaw, she closes her eyes, tracing her fingers down his arms as he pushes inside.

They both exhale, relieved that they're back where they belong.

Talking can wait.

Lando's hands grip her waist just as he pulls out, only to push back in, all the way to the hilt in one slow, but hard thrust. The feeling is almost too much for her, which is ridiculous since he just started moving. But she feels so full, and the sounds he lets out only make her open up for him even more.

“Wait, wait,” she can barely recognize her own voice, stopping Lando when their hips touch together.

She can't explain it, but she needs it.

“What's wrong?”

She looks down between their bodies, confusing Lando even more. “I…,” she begins, but she's not sure how she's supposed to voice her need.

“It's okay, you can tell me,” he assures her, bringing his hand to cup her face in his palm, tracing his thumb over her cheek.

“I—need a second to feel you,” she explains, pushing his hand away only to trace her palms over her face.

Lando chuckles, “Baby, don't hide from me. You're driving me fucking mad when you're blushing.”

“I'm not blushing,” she contradicts him, raising her hips against his, her walls hugging him tighter with every move.

“No?” whispers Lando roughly as if he lost his voice. “God, you're perfect. So good, so fucking sweet and perfect around me, baby.”

Her legs tighten around his waist, keeping him inside, while one hand moves to his lower back to push him against her even more. There is no physical space left between them, but she still wants more. It only makes Lando's cock throb inside her pussy, giving her a few more seconds to adjust to his length before he pulls all the way out and slides back, searching for the perfect pace.

“Fuck, Lando,” she whines, burying her fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots.

“Yes, I know,” agrees Lando, his eyes flicking over her face. His insides tighten at the sight of her parting her lips in pleasure, her breathing hot and irregular. “You're so beautiful from this angle.”

“Shut up,” she cuts him off, which makes Lando chuckle again.

“Why would I?” he asks, leaning closer to her ear, while thrusting a couple more times before pausing. “You look like a fucking goddess taking my cock so well.”

She squeezes her eyes shut at the sound of his voice, low and raspy, rocking her hips to find that sweet friction against her walls again.

“Keep,” she whines, “Keep going, then. Let me have it.”

Lando presses his lips on hers at the same time he resumes his movements, his hands roaming all over her body.

“You can have my cock, baby,” he groans into her hair. “All yours.”

She nods, wrapping her fingers around his biceps, “Yeah?”

“Promise you,” says Lando.

After that, he picks up pace, both falling into an agonizing rhythm. All this time, she had thought that familiarity might dull the edge of being with Lando, that knowing his moves would make it predictable and boring, maybe even ordinary.

Somehow, it’s the exact opposite.

It’s because she knows him, and he knows her so well, that every touch feels ecstatic, every kiss charged with meaning. He doesn’t need to guess what she likes; he already knows how to unravel her, how to leave her trembling and breathless. And she knows exactly what will make his breath hitch, how to draw out that low, desperate groan that ignites her own fire.

In a way, every time feels like the first, but it's always much better, because they know how to make each other fall apart like no one else can.

“Please,” she gasps, breathing wetly in his shoulder. “Harder.”

One thing about Lando, he's always been good at listening. Without thinking twice, he tightens his grip on her hips, fucking his cock inside her harder and faster than before. In an instant, her ears are blessed with the way his moans sound.

“God, I've missed fucking my pretty girl like this,” says Lando, his hands moving on her thighs to spread her more so he can slide in faster. “It's never like this, baby, fuck.”

Being with Lando is chaos, the kind of beautiful, consuming chaos that leaves everything around them in shambles. They are loud and messy, and everything is sweaty and wet and sticky. He kisses her like he’s starving, touches her like he’s desperate to memorize every inch of her skin, and she matches his fervor, meeting him with the same wild energy that pulls them under. Together.

“Lando,” she spits his name out of her mouth in short spasms. “Lando, Lan… Lando.”

It's almost like a cry for help, but she doesn't need saving. Not when he's fucking her so good, slamming against her over and over again, until the outside world fades away and all she remembers is his name.

“Lando,” she whimpers again.

“Keep me in, love. Like that,” she can barely hear him over the sound of skin slapping on skin. “Fuck. You're taking me so well, I won't stop fucking you, baby. I won't—”

She sucks in a breath of air, her body buzzing with pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his torso, she can feel how hot and sweaty his chest is. She moves with him for a couple more thrusts before she lets go, the sound of Lando fucking in and out of her while she comes so obscene that it makes her eyes roll.

“I'll never get tired of seeing you coming like that,” says Lando, pinning her to the bed, his cock feeling so fucking good inside of her that it makes him see stars. “So fucking hot, baby.”

Her nails scratch the skin of his back as her pussy clenches around his length, forcing another hiss out of Lando's mouth.

“Don't stop,” she manages to say, even though she feels her throat raw.

“Ah, look at you, now. Being so good for me,” says Lando with a smirk, tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Letting me have my way with you when you're sore and spent. And so wet, baby, you're dripping all around my cock. Fucking hell.”

Lando's jaw clenches, a visible battle playing out in his face as his breath hitches. She feels him moving deeper, hitting the sweet spot inside her, sending ripples of pleasure through her body with every thrust.

“Yes—fuck. Don't stop,” she repeats.

His eyes widen as he tries to hold on for as long as he can, but it's hard when he flashes his eyes in her direction and catches her already looking. It doesn't take long for him to realize there's a replica to her first orgasm. He nods, without saying anything else, bringing his hand up to her neck. She places hers on top of his, not to push it away, but to let it rest there as a sign that it's fine to claim her if that's what Lando needs.

And that's enough for him to lose it.

“Baby,” he breaths out, fucking her slopply, any sense of order dissolving under the weight of their eye contact.

She arches into him, her fingers trembling as they rise to cup his face.

“Keep your eyes on me,” she demands, her voice a desperate need.

She pictured that face thousands of times in the past months, but nothing compares to this. Lando groans at the command, his hooded gaze staying on hers. The intensity of his expression nearly undoes her again — his pupils blown wide, lips parted as he lets out s string of cuss words.

“That's it, pretty boy,” she whispers, her thumb brushing over his cheek as he moves inside her, his pace faltering for just a moment before he snaps back into thay sloppy rhythm, chasing his release. “Want to see you when you let go.”

She barely finishes her sentence when his orgasm crashes over him like a tsunami; no one would be able to even tell where she begins and where he ends.

Lando looks so beautiful and wrecked, and she drinks in every second of his surrender.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

When his features soften, she sees how vulnerable he is, and it leaves her breathless.

Satisfied and content, her fingers still trace his face, wanting to remember the exact way he looks in this moment, when he is completely hers.

Unable to support his weight, Lando collapses on top of her, feeling his body as light as a feather, which is so far from the truth. But she doesn't mind; she loves the feeling, actually. She loves the heaviness, and the way he keeps his cock tucked deep inside her, wet and softening slowly, not allowing his cum to leak out of her.

Descending back down from their high, the only sounds in the room are their slowing breaths and the soft rustle of the sheets. It's hard not to notice the weight of reality when it begins to creep in around the edges.

She lies beneath him, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his back, but her mind is miles away.

“When are you leaving?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lando tenses for a moment, then shifts to lie beside her, propping his head on his hand to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes twists something deep inside him.

She swallows hard, suddenly flooded by all the reasons they had fought, all the late nights filled with misunderstandings and misaligned priorities. She remembers all the reasons why they broke up, and thinking how bad of an idea this has been. Because, how can she let go of him again, without feeling like she'll be losing both her head and heart in the process.

“On Tuesday,” says Lando softly. “But not how you think.”

Her brow furrows in confusion as she turns to face him. “What do you mean?”

Lando leans over, his hand caressing her cheek as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve been thinking about us for months. Since you left, actually,” he begins, his voice low and deliberate. “I had a lot of time, and I managed to figure out why it didn’t work before, why I couldn’t give you what you deserved. So… I’ve talked to the team.”

She almost stops breathing, her eyes widening in his direction while she waits for him to continue. Months ago, she would've die to have this conversation, and now that it happens, she doesn't know how to behave.

“I'm working on a schedule. To have more time for us,” Lando explains.

Her heart skips a beat. “You’d do that?”

“For us,” he repeats, his voice firm. “I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you. I don't want to be okay without you, it's stupid. And I don’t want to keep coming back here, hoping for a second chance, only to mess it up again. I want to get it right this time.”

She stares at him, not knowing what to do with that information. This is not the Lando she knows. The recklessness and impulsivity got replaced by caution and planning the steps ahead. It's new, and exciting, and it makes her tear up.

“And what if it still doesn’t work?” she asks, her voice small.

He leans closer, his forehead touching hers. “It will.”

His tone is so definitive that she can't say anything else, letting the silence stretch between them as she searches Lando's face for any sign of hesitation.

There’s none.

“How... did you actually know where to find me last night?”

Lando smirks, studying her face with half-closed eyes, bringing his hand to her jaw. “That friend of yours posted on her story. Honestly, I didn’t know you were going to be there. But I hoped.”

She shakes her head, scoffing, “Stalker behavior.”

Lando shrugs nonchallantly, “I just happened to be nearby,” he chuckles.

“Lucky me,” she says, tracing the contour of his nose with her finger, stopping on his jaw.

“Lucky us,” he corrects, pulling her in for another kiss.

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[iimplicitt]

WISHFUL THINKING | KA4

pairings: kimi antonelli x unnamed fem! character

summary: kimi has had a bit of a thing for ollie’s best friend for a while now, only issue is, is that she’s under the impression he hates her guts.

song inspo; drive by halsey

warnings: a sprinkle of angst

wc: 2.7k

request; maybe Kimi antonelli, but just like fluff, maybe a bit of angst

It was hard to keep his eyes off her when she came to racing events. No matter what could be going on, no matter what chaos that may be ensuing— she stood out. Not to sound cliche, but Kimi often compared her presence to how rays of sunshine cut through clouds. People couldn’t help but stop and admire her.

It was no surprise that Ollie had been friends with her for so long. When getting into professional racing, it was like friends trickled through a filter. It wasn’t through any fault of their own, really. Life gets busy, schedules don’t match up, and the calls or texts eventually stop.

No matter what life had thrown at Ollie, she was by his side. There was that annoying little feeling buried deep in his chest, just below his heart that felt a bit envious at their relationship. Although Kimi was technically friends with her, it didn’t feel like enough.

He wanted more, and he knew he shouldn’t.

For a whole array of reasons. The obvious being she was Ollie’s best friend. The second, though he might be getting ambitious, is that maintaining relationships is hard in this line of work. Not impossible, that was proven on numerous occasions. But what had also been proven is that they could get messy.

Plus, he wasn’t exactly sure what the full depth of Ollie’s feelings were. He knew the English man cared for her deeply, he knew they hung out all the time, Ollie invited her to races, she would even stay at his house sometimes.

God, those nights where Kimi was invited were the worst.

He could still recall the first night he realised he was done for. Kimi had an early morning the next day so he had called it a night before anyone else, crashing in a spare room Ollie had set up for him. He had found himself looking at her throughout the night. Sure, he had always found her attractive but his throughts typically didn’t expand beyond that. It was such a simple moment, it wasn’t anything to shout at the stars in reckless abandon. Everyone had been out in the back garden for dinner when a bunny had appeared. The way her eyes had lit up, carefully walking towards it. Everyone had expected the bunny to run off at any sudden movement, but it sniffed her hand with its pink nose before cuddling into the scoop of her palm. She refused to move for two hours as everyone talked, not caring her trousers were getting stained by the damp grass. The bunny keeping her company all the while and Kimi watched as the rest of the world faded away from her.

He laid in that bed wide awake for what seemed like hours. Her laugh echoing down the hallway from the kitchen, almost taunting him and he felt his chest constrict with the sound. It was strange, like he was breathing for the first time and his chest had been hallow up until that point.

Ever since then he had looked for her everywhere, sought out the sound of her voice. Part of himself hating that Ollie was the one to make her laugh like that. It was devasting, confusing, and pathetic.

The first day of a race weekend was wrapping up and sweat seemed to cling to him stubbornly no matter how many times he dumped water over his head. His eyes, as always stuck on her and how she smiled up at his friend. He didn’t know what made him ask when Ollie walked up to him, maybe it was the heat or the exhaustion but the words slipped out regardless.

“Do you like her?”

Ollie blinked at him, his cheeks red from the heat. “What?”

Kimi felt childish. They weren’t in primary school but the way his stomach was erupting in butterflies at the mere thought of even holding her hand made him feel like a kid. “You know,” he gestured to her.

Looking over his shoulder in confusion, Ollie spotted who Kimi was talking about and his eyes widened before whipping back around. “No, ew. I mean, she’s lovely. But no.” He then narrowed his eyes as he caught Kimi smile faintly. “Hang on a minute.”

The Italian’s face dropped, not realising he was grinning slightly but he couldn’t help the surge of relief he felt. “What?”

“Do you like her?”

Kimi laughed, trying to brush off the claim but his friend saw through the rouse easily and he wasn’t sure he liked the look that bloomed on Ollie’s face. Not a moment later, Ollie called her over and Kimi felt his stomach drop.

“Wait what—“

“I’m having to do some extra interviews after this, some stuff for Haas. Are you okay if Kimi gives you a ride back to the hotel?”

She nodded, patting Ollie on the arm. “Yeah, that’s fine. Go have fun.”

With a wink in Kimi’s direction, Ollie took off, leaving Kimi to fend for himself. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank him or kill him for throwing such an opportunity at him. But opportunity for what? He couldn’t just assume she was interested.

There were small moments he considered, but he was sure he was just being delusional. That she was just being nice. It would be presumptuous of him to think anything could take place, but that small voice in his head urged him to at least try.

Rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, he met her eyes once before looking away. It wasn’t like she was necessarily intimidating, but he felt overwhelmed when he got to be close to her. “Let me get changed and then we can go, is that alright?”

She shrugged a shoulder impartiality, casual as ever and he wondered what mental training she went through to always be so calm. No matter what seemed to happen, she kept a level head. She was just…calm. Maybe that’s why the bunny walked up to her so easily, he saw somewhere that animals were really good at reading people and he knew she must’ve had a heart of gold.

“I’ll be quick.” He muttered, turning away and immediately kicking himself. Really? Was that all that he had? He had flirted with girls numerous times with a sense of ease that often surprised himself but he was suddenly robbed of all his language capabilities when it came to her.

She watched him walk away, feeling her heartbeat in her ears and every nerve ending felt on fire. If it weren’t for the wall she was leaning against, she was sure she would’ve fell to the floor.

Panic. She was panicking. And she was going to kill Ollie next time she saw him. The bastard knew she’s had a small crush on Kimi for the past year and then he goes and does this? No warning? Ollie was fully aware how she needed time to prep for things or else she would spiral.

Kimi was going to be giving her a ride back to the hotel. Her mind spun with hopeless longing and all the what if’s, not that there would likely be any. Any time her and Kimi were alone together he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He wouldn't look at her, he’d barely utter a word, just…nothing. No inkling of interest beyond kindness and being friends by default through Ollie.

And it killed her. Even now, he seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of driving her. It was confusing, he didn’t used to be like this. He used to joke with her, be more carefree, let her in a little. Then one day she blinked and it was as if she was this thing he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried. His texts became few and far between, he never called on a whim anymore, he just stopped. She tended to over think in general but it sent her down a rabbit hole of what did i do wrong?

No matter how many times she thought over their interactions, she couldn't think of anything to make him take such a big step back like that. Her mind would wander; maybe she was being too annoying, maybe she was too much, maybe she was too loud, maybe she was too pushy, all these maybes and she felt like she was going insane.

She really shouldn’t be surprised though, she wasn’t necessarily his type. Which, as much as she told herself not to, she compared herself to all the girls he had dated. Having to ground herself in reality that of course it wouldn’t be her. Because why on earth would it be?

Snapping out of her depressing line of thoughts, she watched Kimi approach. Freshly showered and in a new set of clothes with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He met her eyes once before looking away, “Ready?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, suddenly not overly thrilled by the turn of events. Hopefully the car ride would be quick and the silence not too awkward. She wanted this over with so she could burrow in her hotel room to watch a rom-com and cry.

She followed Kimi to the car he had driven to the track that day, a nice sports car that she couldn’t even begin to fathom the cost of. It didn’t matter how long she had been friends with Ollie, she would never get used to the sheer show of wealth at these events.

Reaching for the door handle, she paused as another hand beat her to it instead, staring at Kimi dumbfounded as he opened the passenger side door for her. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he did gesture with his head for her to get in.

She reality checked the butterflies in her stomach quickly. He could not like her and still be a gentleman, there was no reason to look too deep into it. The leather was clearly expensive and the smell of Kimi’s cologne invaded her senses, smelling warm with a bit of spice and the way it made her head dizzy was a little concerning. No one should smell that good.

Sitting with bated breath, she watched as Kimi walked to the other side before sliding into his own seat. Not sparing her a glance as he got settled and the engine roared to life. Usually she was good with silence but for some reason when it came to the Italian race car driver, the quietness felt suffocating and the air was heavy,

Barely five minutes into the drive she tapped her knees and cleared her throat. Kimi didn’t do anything but raise a brow at her and kept his eyes on the road.

“Kimi?” He hummed in response. “Did I do something to make you hate me all the sudden?”

The way his eyes widened as he turned to look at her for a moment would’ve been comical if it weren’t for the way she felt nauseous as she asked.

“Che? I don’t hate you, why would you say that?”

Despite trying not to, the laugh that left her was painfully dry. “You act like you can’t stand me.”

“Why would you—“

“Kimi, this is the most you’ve spoken to me in months.”

His lips pressed together in a line as he drove, looking at her for another moment before forcing his eyes back on the road. After a moment he sighed, his voice coming out quiet. “I thought distancing myself would help.”

She stared at him, her mind not registering the words properly as she watched the street lights flicker over his face every few seconds. “Help?” Her own voice was a whisper, her heart beating too loudly in her ears and she barely heard herself. Kimi clenched his jaw, seeming to debate with himself as he thought about what to say next and she would’ve given anything to know what was going on in his head.

“Getting into things here is complicated,” he began, struggling a bit to communicate properly what he meant as if he was trying to tiptoe around something bigger. “And with Ollie I just thought it would be messy.”

“So you’ve been ignoring me because of Ollie?”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” The look she gave him screamed otherwise and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “No, non è quello che intendevo. Perché è così difficile?” He mumbled to himself before finally turning to look at her. He took a deep breath and she steeled herself for the potential blow to heart he might be about to deliver.

“I like you, tesoro. A lot, but with Ollie being your best mate and the way schedules work I didn’t want to fuck anything up.”

It was as if the world had been yanked from under her feet before the ground came rushing back again, her heart stumbling over itself at the confession. The pure shock of adrenaline and joy mixed with something akin to annoyance bubbled in her throat and she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “Why would Ollie have anything to do with whether or not you could be with me? I like you too, Kimi. But I’ve been sitting here for months thinking you couldn’t stand me. Even if it was just as friends, that hurt.”

The look on his face made her want to take back all of her words but she knew she meant them. He looked in anguish, hating himself for putting up the walls he had been so keen on keeping in place. Taking it upon himself to protect everyone from any potential emotional damage. She understood the complexities of getting into a relationship with a friend, and how if they go wrong it could blow up in everyone's face. But to not even try? And to just drop off the face of the earth? It wasn’t fair.

“I’m sorry, tesoro.” Before she could register her next thought, Kim’s hand reached up and cradled the side of her face, brushing a thumb over her cheekbone as he looked her over like he was trying to memorise every detail. “I love being around you but it felt like torture knowing I couldn’t do anything.”

Leaning into his touch, she shook her head. “Who said you couldn’t?”

“Cara Mia,” his voice was low, as if in warning and he looked at her pointedly.

“Kimi you can’t focus on all the possible negatives, would it really kill you if we kissed?” At her words, his eyes flicked down to her mouth as his hand slid lower to cup the side of her neck, just slightly bringing her closer. She reached her own hand up to gently take hold of his wrist, eyes meeting his and they seemed to glow in the night. “Ti voglio, Kimi.”

His mouth met hers with such urgency one would think he was a man starved for her touch. The feeling of his soft but slightly chapped lips was enough to drive her to insanity and she could cry at the relief she felt. Finally. Finally, they were giving in. He didn’t need to be scared. All they had to do was take it day by day and she was willing to fight for this with him through the fires of hell if it came to that.

The kiss was messy, fueled by months of longing and miscommunication. Missed opportunities and second guesses. Two lonely, young people who wanted to find a sense of security in one another and they were finally getting a taste of what heaven was like. Teeth colliding and the feeling of his mouth against hers, his tongue exploring the inside of her mouth and her hands dug in his hair. Desperate and devastating and neither would ever get enough. They never wanted to. Each touch was electric and they kept chasing that high, shedding any restraints previously held.

It would be hell to deal with sometimes, but they’d make it work.

“Vita mia,” he said it against her mouth, against her neck, he’d pepper it between each breath and kiss as if she was the air that sustained life. “Mi dispiace, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, I know.” She kissed him again, expressing everything she wasn’t capable of saying effectively. Wishing she could talk to him freely in his native tongue. Ever since the first night she met him she started to practise. He was everything and more to her.

“Vita mio,” the words barely had time to swim in the air before he was all over her.

tag list; @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @hearts4acemyluv

pls let me know if you’d like to be tagged in further work!

[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.

[maxedes]

german terms of endearment for your fanfics

i‘ve recently stumbled across some fanfics about german drivers (mainly nico & seb if we‘re being honest) and quite a few liked to use german terms of endearment. thing is, that they mainly use words that aren‘t really used in germany & sound a little strange. like „liebchen“ which i have never heard anyone say irl & which frankly just sounds like bad german from an american n*zi movie. or „mädchen“ which just means girl & can be used as „mein mädchen“ (my girl) but does kinda sound like something your weird toxic first bf would say. so to make everyones lifes a little easier: some german pet names that actually get used with a little context:

Schatz (treasure)

probably the most commonly used term in german. everyone & their mom uses it for romantic partners. can be used in any situations. i think there are people who forget their partners name because they just call them Schatz. to make it even cuter you can say „Schatzi“ but use carefully since that could easily sound condescending. same goes for „Schätzchen“ which in theory makes it cuter but actually mainly sounds like a guy talking down on you.

mein Herz (my heart)

emphasis on the „mein“ just calling someone a heart is a strange thing to do. you can also say „Herzchen“ but same problem as „Schätzchen“

Liebling (my beloved, my dearest)

this is what everyone thinks liebchen is. from personal experience i‘d say it‘s a word more often used by older people but could work.

Engel/chen (angel)

actually alright. maybe also use „mein“ in front of it. „mein kleiner engel“ → my little angel

Baby / Babe (same as english lol)

gets used rather frequently. same implications as in english

Hase / Hasi (bunny)

not inherently romantic/sexual. a cute one.

Maus/i (mouse/little mouse)

has been vERY popularized by the kids™️ and i mean that in the sense that quite literally everyone & everything gets called „maussss“. maybe to the point where it‘s been a little overused.

Schnecke / Schnecki (snail)

or schnegge. but with that your easily in a little creepy territory. schnecki is kinda cute though. i think my mom used to call me that so it doesn‘t have to be romantic. also no, i don‘t know why you would call someone snail as a cute little nickname and no it doesn‘t have to relate to their general speed (walking, driving or thinking)

Spatz / Spätzchen / Spazl (sparrow)

i don‘t know what germans have with this bird but it is popular. the last version „spatzl“ is mainly used in southern germany. it‘s what my parents call each other so if someone tried to call me that my toenails would curl up and not in a good way.

Dicker (fatty)

not to be confused with digger/digga which comes from the word but is more used like „bro“ (yeas i know what it looks like a first glace, pinky promise thats not what it is). only fun if used endearingly.

Sonnenschein (sunshine)

for my seb girlies (gn). it‘s a pretty long word though so probably not something to call someone on a regular basis

in conclusion: most of them are still bad and maybe even a little icky. i think the real way to go would be an inside joke or just a shorter or cute version of their name. german really isn‘t the language to be romantic in, in spite of what goethe might what you to think. i literally couldn‘t think of any more so i googeled & saw some of the most disturbing pet names imaginable.