#lele writes ʚɞ

[ayrtonswnna]

hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

[lelengerine]

pairing. chenle x reader

synopsis. the one where chenle wishes he was the reason you’d stay up till three, that he was more than just someone you’d walk by

genre. friends to ?? au (this is very much an open ending), one sided pining, mentions of being intoxicated (just a teensy bit… pls drink responsibly), chenle sits in his thoughts a lot in this, lmk if there’s anything that was missed!

wc. 0.8k words

notes. here's a little something while i write for renjun hehe anw! i love lele's cover for drunk texts by henry moodie like it literally lives in my mind rent free all year round… and to that, collectively we all say thank u lee mujin service 😁😁

m.list

november 5th.

it’s a chilly night. the kind where the air feels electric, and everything is heightened—the sky, the city lights, and the tension sitting heavily between you and chenle.

you’d been walking home together, like you always did after your weekly meetups with friends. the laughter from earlier had faded into a comfortable silence, but there was something about tonight, something in the way the silence stretched, the cool air wrapping around you both, that made chenle’s heart race for reasons he couldn’t name.

he snuck a glance at you, your eyes fixed on the stars, a soft smile playing on your lips. it was then he almost said it—those three words that bore the weight of all his feelings—almost.

the words were right there, tauntingly hanging on the tip of his tongue, heavy and ready to fall out, but then you began to laugh at something in the distance—a couple setting off fireworks, sparks shooting into the sky—and the moment slipped away before he could even get hold of it.

chenle swallowed the words and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. forget it, he thought, heart sinking further with every second that passed. he wasn’t ready to risk everything. not yet.

“did you see that?” you asked, still staring above, and he can see the colorful bursts in the sky start to dance in your eyes.

a smile instinctively formed on his lips, though his chest ached with everything he couldn’t find the courage to say. “yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. “breathtaking.”

you assumed he was talking about the fireworks and flashed him a bright grin of agreement, but he was never talking about the fleeting lights in the sky to begin with. 

ʚɞ

april 7th.

five months later, and nothing has changed.

if anything, it’s only gotten worse—this tight feeling in his chest whenever you’re around, the way he finds himself thinking about you at odd hours of the night, replaying every moment in his head. the problem is, you have no idea. you treat him the same as always—like your best friend. like nothing’s different.

and that’s the hardest part.

chenle taps his phone screen again, staring at the half-written text he’s been drafting under your contact for what felt like hours. he’s had a couple drinks earlier in the night with his friends, just enough to loosen the tight grip on his inhibitions, just enough to make him feel bold enough to actually type his feelings out—as incoherent as they were.

his finger hovers over the send button. he knows he should delete it, he knows he’s playing a dangerous game. one wrong move and he could ruin everything—what you have, the friendship that meant more to him than anything else, but the thought to act impulsively for once lingers in his system more than it should.

what if you felt the same way? what if you’ve been waiting for him to say something all this time, too?

chenle shakes his head, cursing under his breath as he deletes the message. he’s not brave enough. not tonight. instead, he flops back on his bed with a faint grunt, phone still in his grip, wondering if you’re thinking about him right now; wondering if you were wide awake, just like him, waiting for a message that will never come despite any plea.

ʚɞ

the days stretch on, and he sees you as often as ever—movie nights, study sessions, spontaneous coffee runs. it wasn’t like he could have avoided you anyways. you were always together, and yet there’s always a gap between you, a line neither of you is willing to cross.

sometimes, when he catches you laughing at one of his dumb jokes or notices the way you glance at him when you think he’s not looking, he wonders if there’s something there. something more than friendship, something you’re both too afraid to say out loud.

but then, just as quickly, the moment fades, and the fear creeps back in.

what if i tell you the truth? what will i lose?

and soon enough, he finds himself under the serene glow of the moon yet again, the clock in his room striking midnight.

chenle stares at his phone, the same familiar ache settling in his chest like an unwelcome guest. his thumb hovers over your name in his contacts. he can’t help but wonder how things would be different if he had confessed all those months ago when he first realized his silly crush, if he hadn’t been so scared of what you might say—or worse, what you wouldn’t say.

the what-ifs were beginning to drive him crazy, and in a moment of reckless frustration, chenle starts typing, not bothering to overthink it this time. he hits send before he can regret it, leaving the consequences for his future self to handle in his stead. his heart pounds in his chest, and the minutes tick by in agonizing silence.

what if i ruined everything?

but then, his phone faintly buzzes, and a message flashes on the screen—one from you. he hesitates before opening it, stomach twisting like a bundle of nerves.

i was waiting for you to say something.

the breath he didn’t realize he was holding escapes in a rush. it wasn’t exactly a confession, not yet, but it’s enough. enough to give him hope.

and maybe—just maybe—he’s not the only one who’s been waiting.

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚɞ "can you bring my girlfriend?" OP81

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⋮ angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. word count: 1,7k

✧₊⁺ oscar piastri x carina duquez (female!oc)

summary: when oscar feels too much, but he'll always have his girlfriend to share life.

warnings: autor with an addiction to angst writing, mentions of a panic/anxiety attack, soft!oscar for the win, lando norris as a special guest.

Oscar feels overwhelmed.

Bahrain gets the hottest track of the year, a hard race to say the least. It feels like there's too much going on, almost like the McLaren driver could sense his skin burning even out of the car.

He usually holds good control over himself; a very disciplined athlete, he heard every call on the radio and hydrated just as much as he could, but the fuzzy feeling won't leave him.

Seeing bright and blind sparks where his vision should be, an anxiety wave crashing in his chest as he stumbles inside the papaya box.

It's not just the heat, being so self-aware makes him sure of that. The medical team follows him inside, just a plain sight, there are people around, but everything seems just too far away. Soaked in sweat and cold water, his heart is beating too fast for him to think clearly.

He needs to get Carina.

Also known as his girlfriend, his baby, his physiologist. Like, legally. Like what she does for a living. Oscar can't be her patient as part of the conduct, but she often helps him out with that kind of stuff, like identifying whether it's physical pain or just anxiety.

"No, I'm okay. I'm okay," the pilot waves his hands as the doctors approach, really focused on keeping his breath regular. "Can you just get my girlfriend? She's somewhere in the VIP. I really need her right now."

"I know you might want some comfort right now, but I need to check you right away."

"You can! Just bring my girlfriend. Can you bring my girlfriend?" As soon as he understood that the man in front of him wasn't going to move, he asked someone in the back. "She'll be here in seconds. I'll let you touch me as soon as she says I'm okay."

Yeah, the doctor is right. Oscar just wants some comfort right now. Carina, besides being very good at what she does for a living, is also an incredibly amazing girlfriend. Her powers go beyond what she studied for.

And heaven seems to be on their side today. One of the guys on the medical team heads out of the room, and Oscar just tries to breathe slowly and deeply.

Carina is there, body almost hanging on the half-wall of the accommodation, trying to get any sign of what's going on inside the papaya garage. Usually, he would wave to her every time he left the car, and that didn't happen today. She felt a sharp pain in her chest, worrying if something had happened.

She's right, somehow. Somebody dressed in McLaren's staff uniform came for her with a pass for the boxes zone and a calming voice, telling her not to worry, that Oscar is okay and just requested her presence.

But, well... Carina knows the boyfriend she got herself. There are not many people who can get into his sensitive space, and if she's being called, there is something sensitive happening. The Aussie girl flew down the access stairs and followed the woman into the light-weighted door, a few seconds until she could see Oscar's red face resting up, the back of his head against the wall, and his body curled up together.

"Hey, Osc." She uses her softest tone, leaving her purse and phone on the closest surface as she approaches. "Pretty hot track, huh?"

Easy to guess. In the past few months, all this F1 pressure started kicking in, the perks of driving a rocketship with such ability, being this much of a promise brought some other stuff to the table.

"Yeah." He muttered, eyes closed, face red. "Am I fine? I can't really feel my face or my hands... Whatever. I can't feel much. Am I okay?"

It'd be funny in some other situation. Oscar does look like a serious guy, like someone too calm and put-together. He tries very hard to be. But sometimes, just like everyone else, he wants someone with answers.

Someone else to think for him, to figure out why everything feels so tangled up.

"Fine as always." Carina keeps her voice low, the good kind of lie. He just needed to feel like he's in control. "Your face is just bloody red, but you know I really find you the cutest when you're like this."

"Stop it." A shy little laugh leaves the Aussie's lips, really less worried as she zips his fireproof down and reaches the sides of his neck, rubbing her cold hands. "Hmm... That feels good."

"Yeah? You're just overheated, okay? Can the doctors check you out? We just need to make sure you're okay."

"Yeah- Yeah, of course. You'll stay here, right? Don't leave, please."

"I'll never leave you. Let's just get checked, and then you'll head home."

So Oscar finally feels comfortable enough to let the other people in the room touch him. Carina stays by his side, even talks to the doctors, and fixes his hair sometimes.

"Ice tub, shower, and then you can head home, Oscar. You were great today." The last person on the medical team finishes cleaning up, standing up before waving a last goodbye and leaving the room.

"Do you still need me here? I can wait for you outside." Carina says softly, tucking his overgrown hair behind his ears. "Take your shower, and I'll get the car, okay?"

"Of course not," he whispers. "can't you stay?"

That's what she does. They follow each other down the corridors in the McLaren facility to where the drivers actually go post-race. A tub of cold water awaits, and Oscar takes seconds before diving in, their last moments by themselves.

"C'mon, Osc! Can't believe the heat got the best of you!" Lando shows up from the front of the garage, towel around his neck as he tries to keep the humor up. "You're okay? Did you get checked?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got checked." He's still with his eyes closed, someone from the staff pouring one more ice bag into his tub. "It was a whole lot."

"It was, man. It is too hot around here, and the track is even worse. I thought the car was overheating!" Lando agrees. "And hey, Carina! The best medicine is love, huh? That's what they always say."

Oscar can't understand what is happening to him. He's a chill guy, always so calm and down to earth. How come the tug in his chest hits like a hammer sometimes?

It's hard to breathe, to think, and for the first time in forever... To be quiet. He tried hiding in the bathroom, tried showering. Nothing could put the feeling away, and he already felt like a burden. Carina shouldn't be fixing his mind every time something happens. His mind keeps telling him he's supposed to hold himself together.

But it's still too hard, too much.

She's sleeping. After they went back home and after everything cooled down, literally, she was still the one to order their dinner, set the bedroom, and check on him until he fell asleep on her chest. Now he is hiding in the bathroom, making sure she has time to rest.

"Baby? Are you alright? I miss you in bed; you left a while ago."

Damn, he could swear he was slick enough for her not to notice he left.

But she does, she always does. The details are some of her best qualities.

"Uh-hum. I'll be back." His hands shake, touching his own face and trying to dry the tears.

"It's cool, don't worry. Would you mind... opening the door for me? You're locked in."

Carina is good at this, she's a pro. Oscar knows she'll be the best psychologist once she finishes college just by the way she treats people around her, but mostly him.

She makes him feel comfortable before ever going to the point. He doesn't even notice she's doing it.

Still, he doesn't want to cry in front of her anymore, at least not today.

"Osc? Look, you don't need to talk or anything, I just don't want you to be alone. Because you're not."

He could swear that's procedure, although it isn't. She's just being his caring girlfriend, the one he's had ever since middle school.

"I know." The only two words he manages to say. "I'll be back, promise."

"Would you like... would you like me to be inside with you? Or would you rather spend a few more minutes alone? I can come back and check on you in ten minutes."

That could be funny. Carina sometimes uses this positive discipline thing to get in control, and being conditioned really puts Oscar's mind in place.

Her company could be good. He doesn't overthink when he's around her.

And ten minutes can feel like an eternity. So the door gets unlocked, and he steps back.

"Hey, baby..." That's when he melts completely, face hiding in the crook of Carina's neck, arms around her, and sobs a bit too loud.

She just wishes he was smaller so she could hold him fully.

"What the fuck is going on, Rina? I don't understand! Why am I like this? That's not me!" he cries. "Everything feels so different, and I just want this feeling to go away!"

"I know, baby. I know. Things are changing. You're onto big things, big results, consistency... And you're also a public figure. You're facing new things."

"And why can't I just be like Lando? Or Lewis? Or Charles? They make it all look so easy! I just... I just want to be like everyone else!"

"Oh, so you think your friends haven't felt that way? When they went through the same? I mean... Lewis is old enough to be your father so... It's been a long time." Yeah, the humor and the way she runs her fingers through his spine. It all makes the feeling sink down. "Ask Lando, or whoever. I'm sure they faced what you're facing right now. Last year you were a rookie and now you're winning races!"

Not another word in the conversation; only Oscar's body getting heavy and the sobs becoming softer and softer. Carina has no idea how much he has slept.

"You're amazing, Osc. We will get through this, okay?"

"I love you," he whispers. "So, so much... I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You would surely get no sleep. Let's go to bed, wash your face, and go to bed." Her hands travel his back a little more. "I love you too, baby. So, so much."

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚïɞ "damn we're equally dumb" LN4 texts au

⠀⠀↳ my masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more lando norris!

✧₊⁺ lando norris x winter brown (brown!female oc)

✧₊⁺ gender: crack

✧₊⁺ summary: lando is hooking up with his bosses daughter for a while now, behind his back. now zak is at his daughter's house and lando is hidden inside the closet.

✧₊⁺ warnings: many curse words, two fools who could easily fall in love, 🏳️‍🌈 jokes, LH44 and CS55 mentioned, kinda short idk

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome! (:

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚïɞ "the sweet life" FC43

↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more with williams racing!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x maria amelia rodriguez (female!oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,9k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺ genre: fluff

summary: in witch franco and maria are finally living the good life and they know how to enjoy it.

warnings: just the sweetest couple ever, cursing, some pda/making out sessions, just sad i couldn't write all their dialogs in spanish but i kinda did get a bit carried away. characters celebrating minor things like we do. there's two languages written in this and none is my native language so take it easy, i tried my best. hope you like it.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

⠀

Maria watched as her boyfriend exited the blue car, trying to stay calm and remove her big headphones with ease. Her purse was left somewhere in the box,  her focus was entirely on him. She looked around, trying to find any reason not to run to him.

But she couldn't resist. Just as he was about to take off his helmet, she sped up, a big smile spreading across her face as he opened his arms. It was like nothing else mattered.

"Vamos, bebéééé! P7!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Dios mío, I can't believe this is our life now!"

"It is, baby. Best believe." he laughed, lifting her off the ground and shaking her playfully.

"You're amazing! You're the greatest! Look at you!" Maria continued to praise him, back on the floor now and holding his face between her hands. "¡Te quiero muchísimo! ¡Muchísimo! I can't wait for the race tomorrow."

"Just imagine how I feel!" he said before pecking her lips, smudging it a little in their shared joke. They had so many of these.. "Te quiero mucho más, princesa. Thank you for being here."

They went way back. Back to middle school, when Franco would tear himself apart to keep everything together. Their love had only grown stronger with time. It survived the distance when he moved to Europe for his shot, until she turned sixteen and joined him two years later. All the homesickness and challenges they faced together only strengthened their bond.

Celebrating his win felt like celebrating her own, squeezing in between her college life. Everyone in the Williams box knew that having Franco meant having Maria; they were inseparable.

So it was no surprise when he carried her back inside the box, bouncing her around like she weighed nothing before dropping her on one of the couches.

"We're celebrating tonight, huh? Let me talk to the team, and we'll set it up." he said, giving her one last kiss before messing up her hair and turning away to celebrate with the team.

It had been too long since Williams dragged a car into P7, and if you asked Maria, she'd say only Franco could take it there. It was amazing to watch the team celebrate and fool around, before the excitement cooled down and they headed back to their accommodations. It was only a matter of time until the door was locked and Maria was in her boyfriend's arms, pressed between him and the wooden door.

"When you said celebrating..." her hands roamed over his torso, her words whispered against his lips with a little smirk.

"That's exactly what I meant," Franco smiled, his hands pinning her by the waist as he pulled her in for a real kiss.

Her hands slipped around his neck, fingers brushing against his skin and into his soft curls, while his hand moved gently to her cheek, sending shivers up her spine. The room was silent except for their shared breaths, the adrenaline from Q3 qualy  still pumping. In the privacy of that small space, the kiss grew more heated, like they could become one at any moment. It was a kiss that spoke of celebration and the quiet comfort of knowing they belonged to each other, no words needed.

When he started to explore her covered skin, their breaths becoming more labored, Maria chuckled at how strong she was about to be, stopping him from pulling her Williams shirt away.

A whine and a frown from her boyfriend; she almost gave in.

"Bebé... You're racing tomorrow, you need to rest," she said, holding his chin softly as he leaned into her touch, resting his head on her hand. "Don't give me those eyes! I'm taking care of you!"

"I can't believe you're doing this to me," he sighed. "I mean... I can lay back and let you do all the work! I swear to God, Maria."

"No, mi amor. No way. You qualified P7 today, I can't let that go to waste. You're laying back and sleeping, sir. Let's go shower," she said, patting his chest and waiting for him to turn around so she could follow him.

"A quickie, then?"

"Franco, no!"

"Ese, try this one. I swear it's delicious," Franco approached Maria with a plate full of small dishes he'd gathered for them to taste.

"What is this? Is this a shrimp? You know I hate shrimp!" she dodged the food he held close to her mouth, Franco insisting as he got closer.

"Mi amoooor... It's delicious! There's bacon, you'll like it!"

"The things you make me do, Jesus Cristo." she rolled her eyes, closing them so she wouldn't see the shrimp going into her mouth.

"Tell me. Delicious, huh?" Franco looked at her expectantly, celebrating with a silent "yes!" once she made a surprised face. "See!? I told you! Now try this one, this one you'll like. It's sweet, something with chocolate. Hold it."

"You guys are funny."

"Ai, Alex! Don't do that!"

Albon laughed as he came across the room to grab some water, watching the couple while they focused on chewing. They were at the Williams accommodation in the paddock, with food and beverages served before the race and that is something they always knew exactly how to act around. Free food is free dood, no matter if you’re a teenager trying life in another continent or a good surprise in Formula One.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you guys were so distracted." the Thai driver said, still laughing. "Lily was asking me about you, and I didn't know the answers... How long have you guys been together?"

"Eight years and four months," Franco answered, taking his teammate by surprise.

"Eight years? Eight? Aren't you like... Twenty? You've been dating for eight years? You guys are married!" Alex almost spilled his water.

"She's twenty, I'm twenty-one," Franco began to explain. "We were thirteen when we first kissed and never let each other go. Take notes."

"Wow, wow! That's why you guys are so close! That’s crazy! It must be amazing growing up together like that."

"It is," Maria smiled. "Through the best and the worst. My best buddy." It was easy for them to declare their love, just as it was for her arms to wrap around his waist.

"Uh- tooth-rotting sweet. I hate you guys," Alex pretended to be annoyed. "And marriage? Do you guys think about it?"

"My girlfriend in white? Of course I do," Franco said, hugging her tightly. "I'm securing my seat, and then we'll think about it. She's also graduating, so... We've got time."

The truth is, they could spend a lifetime talking about their relationship, and Alex seemed genuinely interested. They talked about their plans for a modest house back home, a big backyard, and children. They were still young, enjoying the present while dreaming about the future. Alex found it amazing how excited they were for the next steps, yet so calm and happy living day by day, enjoying the small things like expensive food, big hotel rooms, fans screaming Franco's name, and the thrill of being recognized in the mall. Just sweet and pure, that’s what they are.

“¡Cállate la boca, Dios mío!”

Maria giggled beneath the fluffy blankets, pretending to still be asleep. Birthdays had always been a special kind of game between them, an unspoken contest to outdo each other with surprises. Was it a real competition? No. But it was theirs, a tradition that filled their lives with joy and spontaneity.

On Franco’s last birthday, she had convinced him she wouldn’t be able to make it. He was still racing in Formula Two then, fresh off the Monaco GP, only to have her show up at the motorhome with a cake in hand and a parade of drivers ready to celebrate his 21st.

Today, it was her turn. Half-awake, she assumed he might have rallied a few familiar faces; after all, back-to-back races left little time for elaborate plans. But the sleepy haze couldn’t explain why she heard voices speaking rapid Spanish in the next room.

“Bebé, I’m coming in. Hope you’re dressed.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as the door creaked open. Before she could process it, Franco walked in holding a cake, flanked by her mother and little brother, both bursting into song.

“¡Cumpleaños feliz, cumpleaños feliz, te deseamos todos, cumpleaños feliz!”

Her eyes welled with tears at the sight, lips trembling with emotion. “Alright, now you caught me off guard,” she laughed, voice thick. “Hola, mamá. ¡Vos extrañé tanto!” She hurried out of bed, pulling them into a hug so tight it almost toppled them over.

“Hey! ¿No me extrañabas, Pinón?” her brother joked, tugging her hair until she leaned down to wrap him in a proper embrace.

“Feliz cumple, hermanita. Te quiero mucho, y más ahora que estoy volando para los GPs.”

“Te quiero muchísimo también, Pinónzito. Gracias, Fran. No sabía que vendrían.” She turned to Franco, who stood there with a smile that matched the warmth in his eyes. Leaning in, she kissed him lightly. “Te quiero taaanto, mi amor. Gracias, de verdad.”

“El mínimo para ti,” he whispered with a grin, stealing another quick kiss. “Now, let’s cut this cake. We’ve got a full day ahead, and I’m starving.”

“Jesús,” Franco said, a hint of disbelief in his voice as he stepped behind Maria, her beach bag slung over his shoulder. They boarded the yacht, its polished deck gleaming under the sun.

“Did we peak in life, or…” he teased, eyes sweeping over the stunning seascape.

“We peaked life.” she said with a playful glint, spinning around and looping her arms over his shoulders. “And you know what? I wouldn’t want any of this without you.”

He looked at her, eyes roving her features like a map he knew by heart, hands resting comfortably at her waist. It was the kind of touch that spoke of familiarity and time.

“I think we’re here because it’s us. I wouldn’t do any of this without you,” he replied, a declaration wrapped in simplicity, the weight of his love implied in every word. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one, mi amor. You’re going places, and I’m the one who gets to stand by your side.”

They were both right. They’d grown together, woven into each other’s achievements, dreams, and futures. She was on the cusp of finishing law school, and he was rising higher in motorsport. It was their shared success — a partnership that went beyond love.

“If I’m going places, you’re going with me. Wherever we go.” His eyes held a brightness that felt almost tangible. “Te quiero, Maria. I really do.”

“Te quiero mucho,” she replied, eyes crinkling with emotion as they leaned in.

The yacht rocked gently beneath them as the sea stretched out infinitely. The sun, now lower on the horizon, turned the sky into a masterpiece of warm oranges and soft pinks. His dark hair caught the sea breeze, and her curls shimmered as they met, caught between the golden glow of day’s end and the promise of tomorrow.

They kissed, a connection steeped in years of love, laughter, whispered dreams, and shared victories. It spoke volumes of what they were — two parts of a whole, with an unbreakable bond.

In that perfect moment, surrounded by the sea’s vastness and the sky’s splendor, they had everything. The taste of salt on their lips, the warmth of each other’s touch, and the absolute certainty that home was here, in their embrace.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (:

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:.

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚïɞ "a podium to celebrate", pt II. OP81

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⋮ fluff. word count: 1.4k. ʚɞ part I here.

⠀✧₊⁺ oscar piastri x aria giuseppe (red bull driver!female oc)

summary: aria and oscar late night after the hungarian gp.

warnings: pure fluff but badly written, i am sorry. taylor swift references, max verstappen as a special guest, could have ended in smut but the writer didn't feel like it should.

"Where are you going?"

Aria cursed under her breath as she heard the neighboring door creak open, revealing her teammate’s face, grinning mischievously.

"Fuck off," she whispered, her backpack light on her shoulders as she glanced back at the driver over her shoulder. "Go to sleep. I got more points than you today. Go mull over that."

"Calling Christian right now... Babybull is leaving the hotel, and I bet she’s headed to McLaren’s. Should I guess the room?"

Verstappen pretended to be on the phone, teasing the younger driver, making her step back and playfully swat at his arm.

They were good friends. Ever since Aria debuted in Formula One, Max had been someone she looked up to and a fun coworker. She knew he was joking as he watched her leave.

"It's easy to guess the room; you'd be the one sneaking into their first driver's. I've read about it on Twitter," she taunted, giggling as he rolled his blue eyes. "Fuck off, Max. Go to bed. Leave me alone.

"You'll be alone with the winner. Let me at least crack a joke!" he continued in a playful tone, watching her resume walking. "Wishing my mate Piastri good luck — you've got too much energy."

"I'm sure he can keep up," she quipped before heading to the elevators and out of the building.

Sneaking off was something both the Red Bull and McLaren drivers were used to doing; it was all fun when they had days off and could freely be around each other. But there was also the thrill of leaving their own hotels just to see one another, and that’s where Aria was headed now. A rented car waited for her just outside, and the drive to the hotel where the McLaren crew was staying was quick — nothing like a GP lap, but close enough.

She knocked softly on her best friend's door, which opened to reveal a soft smile before she jumped into his arms.

"Hello, Formula One Grand Prix winner... How are we holding up?" Her tone was sing-song, arms wrapped around the Aussie’s neck as he lifted her by the waist.

"We are actually... having pizza and drinking soda for the celebration, and... whatever else you might have in mind."

Aria giggled as he carried her through the suite, making sure to discard her backpack somewhere on the floor. They did this every now and then, even on nights that could’ve turned into wild parties. While the other RB-MC duo might be headed to the club, these two would be headed to the couch.

They had known each other since their karting days, when it all started with a humble Oscar and a small-but-fiery Aria. He had always been too nice for the go-kart tracks, and she had felt the same protective instinct around him; a special kind of care he sometimes felt unworthy of.

Then things grew, just like they did. Formula 2, testing in better cars, and finally, the dream became a reality. They were still there for each other, spending nights together, celebrating wins, or keeping vigil after losses.

A lot had changed since the beginning — not just the karts evolving into complex, expensive machines. Like the way their lips touched so naturally now. Aria cupped the Aussie’s face before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, a simple peck they always played off as a joke. They handled things better that way.

"Alright, Mr. First-Win, put me on the couch so I can lay down and watch our new edits. Let’s go." She tapped the boy on the shoulder, prompting him to carefully place her on the sofa.

"Taylor Swift songs as requested." he teased, kneeling on the couch, his knees on either side of Aria’s body before he laid his head on her chest, waiting only a second before her fingers found their way into his hair.

Physical intimacy — that was them. They had their moments with no clothes on, nights that vanished too quickly, or touching each other in ways that ignited a fire. But there was something special about moments like these, too.

Just existing around each other, finding comfort amid their crazy, rushed routine — being each other's safe place. That was it, simply put.

"Yes, yes. Taylor Swift songs. ‘Daylight,’ please, dear Lord. Let a teenage girl edit us to the bridge of ‘Daylight,’ please." Aria joked as usual, while Oscar giggled on top of her, watching her TikTok before she searched for their names in the search bar.

"This is just crazy. Do you ever think about it?" Oscar’s voice dropped at least an octave.

"About how cute we look on podiums? And talking to each other in the paddock?" she teased, her fingers tracing soft lines on his scalp as his hands rested on her sides.

"About how people think they’re making things up about us when it’s actually... real."

They had made a deal ever since their friendship started including kisses and waking up naked in each other’s beds. It was easier without the public's eyes on their personal lives. But still, people insisted on "making up" a relationship for them.

They did it with any two drivers who ever looked at each other, so why wouldn’t it happen to the one duo that was always together? Driver’s parade? Leaving the paddock? There was even a clip of Aria waiting outside McLaren’s motorhome as if she were Romeo waiting for Juliet.

However, she had only one thing in mind. "Real."

"So we’re real." A little smirk tugged at her lips, which Oscar couldn’t see, but there was no way he didn’t know her well enough.

"Stop smiling." he chuckled, his own lips curling up. "We were always real, Aria. Quit this talk."

"Real like... edits of us with that Zayn song? Look at us, look at us!" She shoved her phone in his face, the screen flashing edits of their moments earlier that day, set to the song.

But Oscar was quick to notice things, especially when it came to Aria. She ran from deep conversations and would joke her way out of anything, even if she had to joke all the way to heaven to avoid uncomfortable topics.

"Real like real. Real like really, really, really real." It had been on his mind ever since the cool-down room. It was.

"Hmm... Yeah." Aria mimicked the probable hours of footage of Oscar making these same sounds, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly as he raised his head just enough to see her. "What do you mean, Osc?"

Oscar was trying to get to three simple words.

But Aria made it so hard to get to that point. They had said it before, they did every now and then. The challenge was fitting the words into what they truly meant.

Not as a friend, not as someone who grew up with you, not as the fan they were of each other — none of that.

"You don’t?" He raised his head a little more, moving up her body in a funny way just to be closer. "Aria, you know I would’ve had a very, very strange first win if it wasn’t for you, right?"

"Nah, I just did the world a favor by soaking you in champagne. You won the race, remember?"

"Stop joking, Ri. I’m serious." His thumb caressed her chin, his eyes roaming over her face. "You’ve been doing this for me for years now — you’re always there."

"Because I always win." A forced, playful smile tugged at her lips as Oscar lightly rolled his eyes. "That’s what we do for each other, Osc. Stop. No need to say anything."

"Hmm?" At this point, he was lost, focused on how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how her lips moved with her Italian accent, and how it felt to be on top of her. Just existing. "You know what, Aria? I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a—"

No need to finish. There wasn’t a need to say it because they had always known. Her lips crashed into his like a car into a wall. Everything went silent as her hands found their way back into Oscar’s hair, caressing the soft locks as his body lifted slightly.

The kiss deepened, a rush of emotions pouring into it. A tender feeling, yet filled with passionate intensity.

He was still on top of her, but no longer lying down. One hand balanced on the sofa, while the other hooked around the girl's neck, their bodies pulled closer, as if afraid to let go.

Every second seemed to stretch, filled with the sweetness of the moment as they melted into each other, the kiss saying everything Aria didn’t let Oscar say.

"I know you love me," she whispered, still close to his lips as they both gasped for air. "Because I love you too."

ʚïɞ

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚïɞ "next door" LN4

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more papaya!

✧₊⁺ lando norris x aurora jones (female!oc)

✧₊⁺ wc: 2,1k. ⠀⠀✧₊⁺ genre: hurt/confort, angst.

summary: when aurora hears something breaking in the apartment next door and just can't think of letting lando get hurt.

warnings: soft!lando, mclaren strategy trigger, description of an anxiety attack, pretty much platonic, author with no ability to end oneshots, small injury description.

Aurora heard the elevator open. The British accent talking on the phone, the angsty conversation, and the door beside hers taking too long to swing open but never closing.

She took a few minutes. Had some tea, washed her dishes, and then… she was standing by her own door, wondering if she should knock and check on her neighbor.

Lando Norris. Of course, she knew the man; a Formula One athlete, probably the best news for the sport in years.

And she knew the pressure that came with the glory. They had spent some time together during the few years she had been living in the building. Quick talks in the elevator, in the parking lot while he helped her with groceries —every now and then, they met, and Aurora had grown affectionate towards the guy.

So it's no doubt she's worried. She’s on the internet, of course she saw everything around his name, and of course, it feels weird.

Someone can be a top athlete in a sport that only twenty people in the whole world get to compete in, and there's still a way to be put down.

Then she hears something breaking —something like glass against her own wall, the one they share. It's instinctual; one second she's wondering, and the next she's outside her apartment, finding his door half open and hesitating.

Maybe she shouldn't get involved. It could have been anything.

"YOU'RE TOO DUMB!"

Alright, she's in.

"Hey, Lando? I heard something and thought I should..."

"Leave." It's heartbreaking — the voice full of agony and the obvious crying, trying to stay low. She still can't see him.

"Yeah- Sure. Sure. Can I... Can I just make sure you're okay? I heard something breaking. Are you alright?"

"No."

Lando closes his eyes as the back of his head hits the wall, a little stronger than he intended. Lately, too many things are hitting harder than they should, and now he sounds like an angry child.

He just can't lie. No, he's not okay, not fine. His hands are bleeding from the broken glass, and his whole body burns — it feels like too much.

Oscar has to work towards his points. There was a whole two-hour meeting about how the Formula One championship might work for the year ahead, and it felt like a knife twisting inside his muscles.

How come he can't manage to do things by himself? How does his whole team need to set everything up for him? Isn't he capable?

And everyone talks. His own friend and rival is around, saying that Lando is not the first driver. Everything is simply working against him, and the pressure is up. It shouldn't be that way.

"Where are you? I'm coming in, okay? I'm sorry, I can't help it."

He recalls the talk they had once in the elevator, a late-night conversation when he just went to the lobby to grab his food delivery and she was coming home from work. The girl is a doctor, or on her way to becoming one — he can't remember everything right now.

So for once, he feels like giving in. Maybe he could use some help, and Aurora is kind of a proper person to do it. Professionally, of course, and then... she's not so close to him. Just enough to understand what's happening but not enough to judge him or treat him differently after he lets his guard down.

"Hey... Hey, Lando." She has the sweetest voice, the sweetest approach. Doesn't fully walk towards him, doesn't get too defensive. God, he needed this. "Do you need anything? Do you want me to call someone, or... do something? You're hurt. I can see blood."

"No, don't call anyone. I'm gonna be okay."

In a hurried need to show everything is fine, he tries drying his bloody hands on his pants, but it only hurts more and he can't keep the pained expression or the small whimper from escaping his lips. Great thing Aurora also can't keep herself.

She takes a towel from the counter, kneeling in front of him as he tries to hide his hands.

There's something about letting people see you're hurt. Lando hates that. In every way possible.

"It's okay, it's fine. Let me just clean that for you, alright? Let me take care of that."

Nothing that will ever come out of his mouth, but yeah. How that boy wanted to be taken care of. It feels like life has only been hitting and bruising him, and no one even wipes it clean.

He really wants to let his guard down, even if it's just for a moment.

"It's just... just a cut," he mouths, hands out and fingers pressed, like it would hurt to move. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard something and got worried."

Aurora's soft hands touch his calloused ones, ready to wrap the towel around them, right before she sees a small piece of something that looks like porcelain.

"You have something stuck in your skin; we gotta take it out. " she warns. "It will hurt a bit, okay? But I need to take it out to stop the bleeding."

"It's... it's okay. You don't need to do anything for me. I can do it by myself."

"Yeah, of course you can. I just want to help. Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Aurora doesn't wait much, just as if she's in a professional procedure. It’s not in much need of a hurry, but usually, she just narrates what she's doing next and does it. It's more about the patient's headspace than the hurt itself. Not much explanation, no time to let the patient think.

So the blue piece of porcelain is out of Lando's skin in seconds, thrown into the sink before she actually wraps the towel around the hand that bleeds the most.

"That was fast." It comes out with a soft moan from the boy's lips, eyes closed with the tears stuck and everything.

His hands looked ugly, but his face... there was something going on, and Aurora really wanted to know, to do whatever about it.

"It was a small piece," she says, instinctively touching his face and cleaning the tears now rolling down. "You're sure you don't want me to call anyone? You don't seem like you should be alone right now."

"No, it's okay."

In fact, there isn't much that is "okay." The apartment is a mess, broken glass, many things out of place, dark and in disarray. Aurora is good with the signs; she is great at taking care of people and could do it with her eyes closed.

Lando just needed to be taken care of.

"Would you let me... help you out? You don't need to stay on the floor." Naturally, her fingers lace around his face, a soft touch that almost made him lean into it. "Hm? What do you think?"

His brain can't fight much anymore; so when he nods and she helps him up, when she guides him through the apartment to make sure he's not stepping on glass, when she puts him on the couch and stands in front of him, it does feel a little better.

Lando has to be in control most of the time. He is the first driver for one of the most traditional teams in motorsports, drives a Formula One car. There are a whole lot of people working towards it, but at the end of the day, he's driving solo. It depends on him. No matter what Zak says on the radio, or what the team puts together in the meetings.

Once he's behind the wheel, it's on him. To make the right decision, to keep up.

Having someone else just step up and be there is pretty new.

"I... hm... thank you, Aurora. Thank you, truly. You don't need to stay here if you don't want to." At this point, the tone in his voice almost says otherwise.

"I want to." Aurora lets out.

Lando would laugh in any other situation. She is straightforward; he noticed that from their previous few talks, and she's like that with everything in life. No shame, no worry. He even thought about how she'd get along well in a conversation with his old coworker and friend, Daniel Ricciardo.

"I really won't be able to settle down if I leave you here by yourself, so... Yes. If you tell me I can stay..." Lando notices her tone, low and calm.

She's cautious, her posture so relaxed yet so serious. She does this for a living, and he knows that, but right now, it feels like she's doing it just for him. It's comforting to think of it that way.

"Yeah, yeah. It's fine. I didn't eat very well today and my head is spinning a bit. I fucked up."

Coming back to his senses, Lando tries to make things better. She came into his apartment because he was cursing himself, finding him curled up and bleeding in the kitchen. So, yes, things do need to get better.

"It's completely fine, it happens. You need to eat something and drink some water. I can grab some painkillers for you. Oh, and you need to stretch your legs, tilt your head up a bit, and... regulate your breathing. Can you do that for me? You're still a bit off."

He didn't think he'd be able to keep up with all these words, but he did. Of course, he's still a bit off — his heart is still racing and his hands can't stay still.

And even with all of that, he's a lot calmer now. Despite the terrible day at work, the comments he read on social media at lunchtime, with everyone talking down on him and all the jokes about him.

Oh, it is hard to breathe.

"Hey, Lando. You're okay, huh? You just need to take a big breath for me."

His response is a soft, low whimper when she gently touches his chin and raises his head just enough, following procedure as if she's at work but being extra gentle. Her thumb caresses his skin.

"C'mon, in through your nose, out through your mouth. We're not in a rush; you can take your time," she reassures, now close enough so both her hands can touch him, now caressing his hair. "I know you're used to the speed and everything... Oh! I heard you coming in last week at full speed! I was scared!"

She studied for this. Most people can manage a better way out of a crisis when being distracted.

"I had to stream." he says, not planning for it to come out as a whisper, but it did.

"I forget you do it all." Aurora chuckles, taking her hands away from him as soon as it feels comfortable enough.

Lando moans in dislike, although he won't say it. He was enjoying it way too much.

"My brother showed me a clip of yours last weekend... Can't believe you're actually funny." she keeps the conversation up, hands on her waist as she analyzes the man, his chest moving up and down, now way more controlled. "I thought you rich boys were all annoying and snobbish."

"We are. Don't let the gameplay fool you."

And there he is—the dark-humored Brit she met in the elevator. It brings a smile to her face.

"Yeah," she softens up. "Did anyone tell you that you are the standard? That Senna of yours parked downstairs... A baby, a very, very expensive baby."

"It's propaganda. I work for them. Did you know?"

She rolls her eyes lightly, the boy acting more and more natural as she stands in front of him.

"You get free luxury cars in the name of propaganda? Besides the billion-dollar one you drive every other weekend? Wow. How can I submit my resume?"

"I do think you could. You are a great doctor," he compliments, subtly, making it clear she wasn't expecting that. "Thank you for coming over, though. I didn't know I could have that control over myself."

"It's all up here," she points to her own head. "Whenever you need, I'm right next door. No... no more hurting yourself."

"That was an accident," he's quick to say. "But it's okay. If you're coming over every time I get hurt... I do have some spare plates."

"Lando, stop that!" Aurora tries to keep from laughing, hitting the Brit with a pillow. "I'm going now, okay? Since everything is fine and you're already joking your way around."

"Oh—no, no. It's fine. If you want to stay a bit more... In case I... trip or anything. It's really good to have professional help on hand."

Aurora has a smile on her face now.

There is something growing in the room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀check my masterlist or drop a request (:

[ayrtonswnna]

ʚïɞ "a podium to celebrate" OP81

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀oscar piastri x redbull!driver!oc

summary: in witch aria won't let oscar's first win be ruined.

warnings: fluff all the way down!!!!! this is all fiction and i mean no hate towards lando, i'm a mclaren fan and like both their drivers. swearing, english is not my first language, had to sacrifice lewis 200th win for this.

word count: 1k

"Oscar Piastri, P1! Oh my god! Always on my way!" Aria jumps in excitement as she enters the cool-down room, a cold towel around her neck as she smiles at the Aussie.

They are good friends; physically close, yes, but always professional and caring towards each other. Two rookies from the 2023 season, they've been racing each other since their earlier categories.

"It's my first job ever, you know." he chuckles softly, with a small shrug and a strange tension in the air as he approaches. "Good race to you too! I saw Babybull in my rearview the whole time."

"I’ve got to keep the pressure up," she jokes, wrapping her arms around his waist as he hugs her over the shoulders, playfully. "What happened? Is the car okay?"

"Yeah. Just team stuff." He shrugs again. "We’ll talk later."

And then it hits. A furious Lando Norris storms into the room, a frown on his face as he throws his Pirelli cap on the floor, his helmet making a loud noise as it hits the surface.

"Yeah, you guys surely can talk later." the Brit growls. "Good race, you guys."

"Would’ve liked your place, but yeah." Aria teases, something she often does.

Even a grumpy Max Verstappen on his worst radio days would crack a smile around her in the paddock. But not today, not the race vice-winner.

"Maybe if you asked... I was really supposed to give in. It'd be no news."

"Lando had to give me the position on the last lap." Oscar explains, trying to ease the tension and stop the sarcasm. "The team messed up."

"Oh— Yeah, that’s tough, guys." She sighs, now sitting down in her third-place chair, exchanging glances with the papaya boys. "I’m sorry. But hey! Double podium! Double the points, double the reason to celebrate!" Aria tries to lighten the mood, as the three of them now watch the race highlights on the big screen.

"Don’t act like Babybull and Madmax haven’t done this too many times."

Aria gets it. It’s a fucked-up feeling; swapping spots so late in the race might feel like a P20, it might be terrible. She usually gets along very well with both McLaren drivers, and that’s probably why she’s a bit surprised by the harsh tone in the older boy's voice.

Even the “Babybull” nickname feels off. She was given that name after winning her first race in her rookie year, driving for Red Bull and crying like a baby. Both RB drivers were together in an interview when Max jokingly called her a "baby driving a fast car." The name stuck.

"Never too many." she decides to let the conversation fade, trying to catch Oscar's eyes but failing.

The train of thought has its chance to choo-choo along until they’re getting ready for the podium.

She knows the Aussie driver well enough. He might be feeling terrible, and doesn’t even need to hear the whole situation to feel like the worst teammate in the world. Her head tilts up when she sees her engineer, as the winning trio walks up to the trophy ceremony, their bond strong enough that he knows what she wants to know, even from a distance as they prepare the backstage for the podium.

"Piastri had the lead, they messed up the pit call and Norris stayed out with the lead." the older guy explains, his lips moving just enough for her to read them. They had people in the way, so she has to use a bit if effort to understand. "They told him to switch, he didn’t want to. Obviously. Obviously. It took time to convince him, almost went downhill."

Her mouth forms a perfect "O" before the staff calls her up for the trophy. Aria could already think it was something like this. Mclaren been fooling around with their team decision and even though Oscar is just too polite when talking about it, she did hear some complains. This box call thing is a recurring issue, she listened to him talking about it and could notice the papaya cars having this problem during the races.

Minutes later, Norris is popping the champagne like he hasn’t in the past few races, while Aria’s mind holds her still for the papaya boys to celebrate their double podium. She slowly sets her trophy away from the chaos the area might become, looking at the center of the podium as nothing big happens. No big celebrations, just Oscar holding his trophy while Lando sprays the champagne with force, as he usually does, even if he hasn’t been in the mood for it in recent weeks.

Then Norris heads to spray the cheering crowd, leaving her best friend to celebrate alone. — Of course, if Aria wasn’t there. Her bottle spilling alcohol for a few seconds before she throws it towards Oscar, yelling a loud "2000s for the win!" and laughing as the boy is caught by surprise.

"You’re ridiculous." he jokes, spraying the liquid on her as they start to chase each other like two kids on a playground; their playground, the Hungarian podium of the Formula One championship.

For a while, the guilt and angst Oscar feels over such a controversial win can fade away, and that’s the thing about his friend, or whatever they don’t mind being called.

She is a stream of light — that’s what she does to people in her orbit. The boy is now grinning from ear to ear, finally celebrating his win, something he almost felt he didn’t deserve.

"Future’s looking bright, huh?" She sets the bottle down as they wave a last goodbye to the crowd. "I like sharing this life with you."

Osc nods, a few seconds delayed before he lets his eyes meet his friend's.

It really is like sharing a life; they’re around each other all the time, prefer eating in the common areas in the paddock just so they can have lunch together. They know each other’s parents, celebrate each other’s wins, and visit each other’s hotel rooms late at night. Physical intimacy, it might be happening tonight.

"Yeah, me too," he says, smiling, soaked in champagne, his hair hidden under his cap, his eyes squinting in the sun. "Thank you."

"For what?" Aria chuckles as they’re called off the podium.

"You know what for. I’m lucky to have you."

"We’re lucky to have each other."

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