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golden-cherry · 1 year ago

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deal - cl16 (10/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: It's dinner time. Time to find new friends, since your roommate decides to treat you like shit.

Warnings: fluff, angst (whoops), asshole!Charles, alcohol consumption, Google translated French, swear words

Word Count: 3.9k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: a podium part! grande, Charlie! feedback is appreciated

Charles' mood has deteriorated quite a bit between his lunch and his return.

Funny, easy-going Charles, who would have loved to drive to dinner with you in potato sacks, is now sitting next to you in the Renault and the silence is deafening. Not a word does he say, but at least he's not crushing the leather of the steering wheel with his hands like yesterday. He doesn't just sit there like a statue, but in every now and then he rubs his forehead, runs his hand through his hair, or twists the rings on his long fingers.

The fact that he looks and behaves like a real person and not a sculpture calms you down a bit, but the stress is still clearly visible in his face. At least he looks more approachable, like you could talk to him. Like he needs someone to talk to about what happened.

Determined to get him out of his foul mood, you turn in his direction on the seat so you can look at him properly. "You want to talk about it?"

Your roommate clenches his jaws even tighter and exhales loudly, as if annoyed by your question. Good start to a conversation. "About what?" He stares ahead, propping his elbow against the car door as he steers the vehicle with his right hand.

You furrow your eyebrows. "About whatever is going on inside you right now."

He gives a short laugh, but it sounds spiteful and not at all like the Charles you know. "It's none of your business."

So at this point you've both arrived again, how nice. Your gaze moves from his eyes, to his nose, to his mouth, and you try to read his expression, but find only irritation and displeasure. Finally, you lower your gaze to your hands folded in your lap. "At least pull yourself together for your friends. Otherwise you'll screw up everyone's evening with your bad mood," it slips out of you.

"I won't."

He knows that you know that something is wrong. And if he wanted to talk about it, he would have answered differently than so snippy and irritated, so annoyed. But apparently he'd rather sit grimly next to you and take out his frustration on you, which would be fine with you if you knew the reason.

You can't help him if you don't know what it's about, and you'd love to grab Charles by the shoulders and shake him until he comes clean. But you're afraid he's not one to be talked down to or pushed into something he doesn't want to do, so you let it go at that. If he wants to talk, he knows where to find you.

You don't know the restaurant Charles stops the car in front of, but it looks beautiful from the outside with the ivy vines winding around lamps and awnings. Some of the tables inside are occupied and even from the car you can tell that the food on the plates looks delicious.

As you unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door handle, your roommate doesn't move a bit. "You go on in. I'll park the car and catch up with you." He doesn't even look at you, but clenches his jaw and waits for you to exit the car. So you just nod at him and get out.

You're about to ask him what name the table is reserved in, when he leans over the center console and closes the passenger door from the inside before sitting down normally and speeding off, disappearing around the next corner. He leaves you on the side of the road, and the wintry evening wind swirls around you so coldly that you can't be mad at him, but enter the restaurant directly, where you stop at the hostess's counter.

"Bonsoir," she greets you with a friendly smile, typing away briefly on the iPad in her hand. "Avez-vous réservé une table?" good evening. have you reserved a table?

In your mind, you give Charles a pat on the back of the head. Couldn't he have waited a moment longer?

Behind you, the glass door opens and other guests enter the restaurant. You press your lips together. "Bonsoir. Une table est réverée, mais je ne sais pa à quel nom," you try to say in your best French, and apparently the hostess even understands you. good evening. a table is reserved, I just don't know what name.

The friendly hostess opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, a slender hand rests on your shoulder. "Je crois qu'elle est avec nous." I think she's with us. Confused, you turn around and look into giant brown eyes. "Y/N, right?" The woman in front of you is so beautiful that you can only nod mutely. Smiling, she takes her hand off your shoulder and looks at the hostess. "La table est réservée au nom Gasly." the table is reserved in the name of gasly.

Behind her stands a young man with one hand resting loosely on her hip. He smiles at you as he notices your puzzled look. "We're Charles' friends. I'm Pierre and this is-"

"Kika," the brunette grins, interlocking her arm with yours, "nice to meet you. Where's Charles?" she asks as the three of you follow the hostess who takes you to a long, set table. There are individual chairs on one side, with padded booths across from them.

You shrug your shoulders. "He's parking the car. I should go in already."

"Ah." Pierre pulls one of the chairs back so Kika can sit down - a gentleman, that is - but she just shakes her head.

"Girls belong on the booths, Pierre," she says, and before you know it, you're sitting side by side at one end of the table. "So, Charles said you're a photographer?"

Charles. English pronunciation. Somehow it sounds strange, so out of place for the Monegasque. The fact that his friends pronounce his name so differently unsettles you, as does the fact that he seems to have been talking about you to his friends. But if Charles's friends call him Charles and not Scharl, then it must be right, no?

You nod. "Right."

Kika picks up her purse and sets it next to her on the bench. "How cool! So where do you work?"

Before you can answer - you wouldn't even know what exactly, to be honest - Charles pops up behind Pierre, who's sitting across from Kika. "What are you talking about?" He puts both hands on his friend's shoulders and squeezes them briefly before standing next to him at the table and leaning over.

"We're talking shit about you," Kika jokes, also leaning over the table so that the two of them can kiss each other on the cheek. In contrast to just now, he actually seems changed, just like yesterday when you went to Joris. It's almost creepy how well he can mask his feelings.

"Doesn't surprise me," your roommate replies with a smile and sits down on the free chair facing you. But he doesn't acknowledge you at all.

Is he ignoring you? Did you do something wrong during the time he wasn't home that he doesn't pay attention to you now? Or is he angry because you just gave him a piece of your mind? If it's the latter, then he can go to hell.

But maybe it's the former. Maybe you shouldn't have written him while he was gone. Just picked out clothes, got ready, and waited for him. Maybe you misjudged the friendship.

You make yourself smaller next to Kika, almost invisible, and watch as more and more people join the small group. They all introduce themselves briefly, but you immediately forget their names as they sit down. The seat next to you remains empty, for which you are somewhat grateful. But the fact that the person you know best here gives you the cold shoulder makes you feel uneasy -

- and suddenly you are ten years old again, in the back seat of your father's car, trying to breathe shallowly so as not to provoke a sudden choleric fit in him.

You avert your eyes from the people and study the menu, on which the actually not-so-expensive dishes are written, so you don't even notice how someone else joins the group until your name comes up.

"Y/N?"

You look up and see the blue eyes of your helpful stranger from this afternoon. This time, however, he is wearing a white shirt, which greatly accentuates his tanned skin, the top two buttons are undone despite the weather, and light-colored pants hang from his hips. On his head, instead of a cap, are now brown curls that hang a bit in his forehead.

You'd be lying if you said he wasn't incredibly handsome. And as you look at him, his smile widens.

The feeling from just now has fizzled out as you stand up and walk towards him. As you face each other, he spreads his arms, wraps them around your middle, and squeezes your body tightly against him. "I didn't think we'd meet again so soon." His arms are so long that his hands are on your sides while you have your arms around his neck. You're so close you can breathe in his scent.

"Is this a good thing or a bad thing?" you ask him as you pull away from each other, but his hands remain on your hips. He looks down at you.

"You two know each other?"

You turn around, feeling Lando's hands slide off you, and behind you stands Charles, who looks at you with a look you can't interpret. Apparently you're talking to each other again.

Uncertainly, you look from him to Lando. "Yes. We met at the grocery store this afternoon."

"She was shopping for her roommate," Lando continues, then points to Charles, who smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "So you're the roommate, I guess?" He looks back at you and smiles. "I knew Charles had a roommate, but I didn't know she was that beautiful."

"And bam, there went my hunger," Kika calls out to you, rolling his eyes playfully.

Embarrassed, you look back to Lando, whose gaze is already on you. "Shall we?"

To your amazement, Lando sits down in the empty seat next to you and not with his friends. He pulls your menu over a bit, even though his own is right in front of him, and scoots a bit closer to you so you can browse the dishes together.

"So," he finally says, leaning back. "I'm afraid I can't find any canned soup."

You nudge him with your shoulder. "I'll eat something else, too."

"There's no BigMac on here, either."

Before you can shove him off the bench, Charles interjects. "Canned soup? BigMac?"

Lando nods. "We found out today at the supermarket that Y/N's culinary journey ended somewhere between canned soup and BigMac." He points his index finger at a spot on the menu. "Ah, look. Kids' plate, with fries and chicken nuggets. How about it?"

You roll your eyes. "I think I'll order the carbonara."

"Ohhhh. Are we venturing out of our comfort zone?"

"Shut up, you dumbass," you say, playfully annoyed, and are glad to see the waitress come to the table shortly after, taking both drink and food orders. You ignore Charles' cold stare.

Kika taps you on the thigh. "You two know each other already, too?" She points to you and Lando, who has risen briefly to greet someone at the other end of the table.

"Since noon today, to be exact." The waitress puts the drinks on the table. Coke for Kika and you, and a beer each for the three guys sitting with you. "I went shopping and couldn't find some things. He was kind enough to help me find them."

"You didn't tell me that." Charles tone is as cold as his gaze. You would have preferred him not to talk to you at all. You don't like this Charles. Not at all.

You don't know what you've done that he can be so friendly and lighthearted toward others, but act completely idiotic toward you. But you definitely don't let that happen to you. "I had to go to another supermarket because ours doesn't have some of the things you wanted." You raise an eyebrow and shrug. "Lando helped me find the sesame seeds and chili flakes."

"That's very kind of him." Charles's expression is impenetrable, but anyone who knows Charles even a little can pick out the underlying sarcasm.

You smile at him sugary sweet. "Yeah, right? He even walked me home and carried the bag."

Kika, whose gaze bounces back and forth between you like a tennis match, is glad Charles doesn't respond, just rolls his eyes. "And you two have only been living together for two days, right? What's it like having a roommate?"

Your gaze wanders to Charles, expecting a snarky comment or whatever he would come up with to put you down right now. But the opposite is true. His previously serious expression softens, his shoulders don't seem so tense anymore, and the little smile around his mouth makes your heart skip a beat, even though he was acting pretty out of line until just now. He's looking at you - really looking at you. This is Charles right here. Your Charles.

"Y/N Is the best roommate you could ever ask for," he replies, and you feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "She's kind, considerate, and so funny. I couldn't ask for a better one."

You're definitely still going to talk about what's happened so far this evening, and you're definitely going to throw words back in his face about how dare he ignore you for half the evening. But right now, you're too relieved that Charles is Charles again that you can't even be mad.

Kika pokes you in the side. "So what's Charles like?"

"Charles," you begin, but don't quite know how to answer. Charles is so much more than your roommate. He's your savior in times of need. Your confidant. Your friend. He's that warm feeling that spreads through you when you're together.

Charles is everything.

When you say his name, he barely noticeably screws up his face.

"You can go ahead and say he's an asshole," Pierre grins, catching Charles' fist directly as he gently punches him in the shoulder.

"Does he leave his dirty socks everywhere? We were all on vacation together once and you couldn't enter his hotel room without stepping on his dirty laundry," comes Max, sitting next to Pierre and thankfully far enough away that he only gets a nasty look.

"Or does he take too long to style his hair? Ouch!" Kika rubs his shin and gives Charles a venomous look. "What? You take longer in the bathroom than I do in some cases!"

"You're all soooooo funny." Your roommate leans back in his chair and clasps his hands behind his head. The sleeves of his shirt stretch across his muscles. He winks at you. "I'm the very best roommate."

You take a sip of Coke and look at him over the rim of your glass, grinning. "The jury's still out."

Several waiters bring the food and the conversation takes its course. The carbonara tastes delicious and the conversation between Kika, Charles, Lando, Pierre and Max changes topics so frequently that you can't keep up with questions and laughter. In the meantime, Kika asks for your number "so you can talk to someone other than Charles" and you are infinitely grateful to have found a friend in her.

The small group you are in seems like a small family and as much as they include you in everything, you feel like a part of it. A feeling that is foreign to you, but doesn't feel strange.

You knew that Charles must have such great friends. But you didn't expect them to accept you directly as part of their group.

The plates are getting emptier, the conversations are getting louder, and people are changing their seats to be able to talk to others. Charles has gotten up to sit down three seats away, but not before asking you if it's okay if he leaves you alone for a moment, whereupon Kika has wrapped her slender arm around your shoulder, saying, "Don't worry, Charles. Y/N is in good hands with me".

In between, he still gives you glances as if to ask if everything is okay, to which you just smile and nod.

"So, was the carbonara better than canned soup?" Lando takes a sip of his beer.

"Nothing comes close to my favorite canned soup," you joke, "but I have to admit, I didn't know pasta could taste so great."

The Brit laughs up. "I saw that. All that was missing was you licking the plate."

You cross your arms in front of your chest and act offended. "Would it have surprised you?"

"Definitely not." He slips his tongue into his cheek, which is much more attractive than it should be. "So, about dinner-"

From across the table, someone calls his name and you notice him hesitate to get up, but the guys wave him over energetically.

Lando looks at you. "Is it okay if I just-"

You wave him off and put a hand on his shoulder. "It's all good. Go ahead and see your friends. It's definitely not the last time we'll talk."

He reaches for your hand on his shoulder and presses a fleeting kiss to its knuckles before standing up. He doesn't let go of your hand until the distance between you grows too far. "See you in a bit."

Before you can realize what just happened, Kika catches your attention by scooting close to you. "What was that about?"

Your gaze lingers on Lando, who slaps his buddy on the shoulder and then sits down on a free chair there. He glances back at you and winks before turning to his friends. "I have no idea."

As you turn toward Kika, Charles catches your gaze. Despite the dim lighting in the restaurant, you can see that his cheeks are flushed, almost certainly due to the beer. His smile is warm and infectious, and as you smile back he stands up and makes his way over to you.

As he plops down in the seat next to you, he's still smiling. "Hi."

"Hi yourself."

Your roommate bites his lower lip and nervously twirls the rings on his fingers, and you wish you could have grabbed his hands and intertwined your fingers with his. But even though everything seems to be fine between you again, you have a relatively poor grasp on him, which is why you let it go.

"Listen," he begins, turning his whole body to face you, "I'm sorry I was so shitty to you." He looks down at your hands. "You - you were so understanding and kind and you just wanted to help and I treated you like crap. And you definitely didn't deserve that." When he looks you in the eye again, his gaze is soft and there's something sparkling in his green eyes that makes him look so young you melt.

Pull yourself together.

"It's okay," you reply, taking a sip of your Coke to wash down the lump in your throat.

"It's not. I don't know what got into me, but my behavior wasn't okay." He takes a deep breath, as if he needs to buy time to think about his next words. "I, um, was with my ex and-"

"Charles," you interrupt him gently, and he barely flinches. But you're so close that, of course, you can't miss it. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready for it. You don't have to tell me at all if you don't want to. But if you're ever that mean to me again and don't give me a reason, I'll kill you in your sleep."

Charles smile turns into a grin. "Then I guess I'll sleep with one eye open now." He takes a big swig of his beer. A drop of it escapes his lips and runs out of the corner of his mouth toward his chin. When he catches it with his tongue, you have to look away for a moment. "I wasn't lying, by the way. You're actually the best roommate anyone could ever ask for."

"Stop it."

"I'm serious." He puts his beer down and looks at you. "We've known each other for two days - two days - but somehow I feel like we've known each other forever, you know what I mean?" You can only nod in response. "And I've never had that feeling with anyone." He takes a deep breath. "And I also think I can tell you everything, which is why I really need to tell you that I-"

"Charles!" The guy the roommates had been talking to until recently sits down in the vacant chair across from you. "I heard about Annika, by the way. I'm really sorry."

In all your life, you've never witnessed how quickly the mood can turn.

The easy-going Charles, the warm, friendly Charles, is gone as quickly as a shooting star. His body is tense to bursting, his fingers are clawing at his pants, and his jaws are clenched so tight you fear he's breaking his teeth. He doesn't even breathe.

Is Annika his ex? The one he was probably with today? Is that why he was in a bad mood?

He doesn't breathe, for a minute he hasn't taken a breath, just stares ahead, through the guy who apparently realized his choice of subject was absolute shit. Charles isn't present, as if he's on another star. Like he's short-circuiting. But by God, the man needs to breathe before he turns blue.

Without giving it much thought, you press your knee against his. You're so focused on helping him that you ignore the heat of his skin burning through the layers of fabric, and the goosebumps spreading all over your body, and the closeness you've never felt with anyone before, even though there are two pairs of jeans between you. You focus only on him, on making him breathe again.

Until he pulls his knee away. Like you've burned him, electrocuted him. As if you had crossed a line. And for a moment your heart stops because you think you've done everything wrong.

But then he presses his knee against yours again, more than that, he moves a little closer to you, so that not only your knees but also your thighs touch. Fire spreads through your veins even though your skin isn't even touching, but just being near him, this familiarity, causes lightning to twitch through your veins into your brain and your thoughts to stop. All you feel is heat. All you feel is Charles.

Charles next to you takes a deep breath, but you're too absorbed by him to realize he's looking down at you. "I'm alright. I have everything I need."

next part

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mickyschumacher · 8 months ago

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𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

#mickyschumacher #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo

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girldriveroscar · 1 day ago

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Parasocial Oscar and Landoscar analysis ahead u have been warned.

Contextually, 2020 Oscar was finally pushing open the door to the world of F1 as a potential driver (Mark Webber management, Renault Sport Academy, Eurocup Championship, etc.) and that fact combined with still being a schoolboy, surrounded by mates who actively followed his career and were his personal hypemen definitely made Oscar a bit of a hotshot to gossip about. Sure, he's kinda a nerd who games and races but also he's got great grades and a pretty girlfriend and he's coworkers with max fewtrell, best friend of emerging F1 heartthrob, lando norris, so really the cards were lining up in his favor. And yet none of that success (both socially, as it appeared to his peers, and personally, career-wise) went to Oscars head. Rather, he oozed this dorky endearing confidence that planted the seed of cool self-certainty that'd follow him into his F1 career. I mean from the very start, we can witness how Oscar took everything in stride, building a strong sense of self over easily inflating his ego.

This got kinda long so the rest goes under the cut for organizing sake!

Then, observing his Prema years, Oscar was newly thrust into a whole new team vibe. And in response, he outwardly tried time and time again to be a team player with the hazing/embarrassing bits (insert multiple clips of him dancing and singing despite initial hesitation, easily accepting very personal race vlogging into his daily regime, making hundreds of silly gifs for every occasion (heavily encourage everyone to take a look bc there's genuinely so many))

NGL watching Prema vids was what initially helped me understand Oscar better/made me like him bc we get the most clear display of his lack of ego. There seemed to be a general understanding coming out of this content: the media took an exorbitant amount of energy and wasn't at all conducive to developing his racecraft. buuuuuut regardless Oscar maintained an attitude of these people are my closest thing to family out here, they care about my wellbeing and my success and god damn it if they wanna take photos in matching Christmas PJs then hand over the damn PJs. And that was all of course bolstered by his growing success and notoriety on twitter. Just as he'd established a strong sense of self from the very start, now his public identity took it's shape in a way that felt honest and lifelike <Insert Clip of Angelina pointing out his messy clothes and Piastri Shrug>. He managed to carve out a niche amongst the Prema cast and it's not that he needed to be funny but if people memed him and laughed then hey if it gets me popularity I'm all for it.

Honestly when people dog on Oscar, saying he's got no personality it makes me crazy because it's the total opposite! I think the charm in observing his growth from Renault Academy to Prema to F1 is catching how quickly he established an unchanging confidence in not only his racecraft and wheel knowledge but also in his personality- and how that personality shines through in subtle ways. When Lando does his negging, everyone just heard Oscar sing for the first time in McLaren, am I a funny teammate, Oscar takes it in stride. He doesn't blush, nor take insult, because he has no complex - he's confident about who he is, even if people don't find it amusing. Oscar knows he's not too shy to burst into song, it's just that there isn't anyone who needs him to, so why should he? He knows Lando doesn't think he's funny, but it's not like he was trying to be anyways, so what's it matter? On the flip side too, the rare times we get an outward expression of his confidence are GEMS. The Pool Promo, where he *unprompted* shows off with a trickshot and wins, THIS VIDEO where he eggs on Lando to call lies on his confidence, calling out Carlos/Lance when they interfere with his driving, does it please you greatly that you've won before Lando, is max the best driver on the grid, the whole cricket video, etc etc.

(LOL because I write about fashion outside of this blog and someone might appreciate the connection, in my brain I kinda liken Lando and Oscar's respective confidence to loud/quiet luxury. Lando's a OOAK Hot Pink Birkin and Oscar is a Helmut Lang black slack lolol) (Not a diss btw both items have social connotations/importance that we could unpack for hours but I digress)

I digress I digress I digress. Going back to the Prema assigned humiliation rituals. In a way I think Oscar's ethos regarding embarrassment/lack of ego heavily simplifies down to this story. His mom goes on to explain how after winning an award she gave him a big kiss in front of the whole school and, contrary to how most kids would be embarrassed or angry at the sudden loud affection, Oscar just brushed it off like no matter! "He's just resigned to it" <- literally the most OP81 psychoanalysis of all time thank you Nicole Piastri. For Oscar, the implied embarrassment he should be feeling does not register, as he simply receives love without any grievances, and hasn't the mind to worry how everyone else perceives this exchange. I swear I have a point pls stick with me. So, reiterating, this is the Prema treatment, sitting in front of the camera, Oscar resigns to producing content that's at least moderately enthusing because at the end of the day, the love for his team and the people he's working with is what's worth sacrificing mystery or "cool-ness" for. And even that's a bit of a misstep because I don't think he views it as a sacrifice so much as 'being perceived' doesn't fall on his radar of important things at all. Which! is what makes Oscar SO effortlessly nonchalant in an objectively cool way! (like this is where the more surface-level likening to Kimi Raikkonen <certified Ice Man> comes from) (The real Oscar freaks know he's not any cooler than his indifference and he's actually an incredibly endearingly awkward guy. He just doesn't take himself too serious, idk you get it.)

Now continuing down this timeline, F1 Oscar, who's got exponentially more eyes on him and a humongous team of people who's names he is still learning- comparatively, who is the one guy he can definitely remember the name of. In this transfer of teams and people, all this “I love you even if its kinda objectively embarrassing for me” energy Has to go somewhere and where else would it go than the one guy who’s name he can remember; the one guy in the same exact position as him; the one guy who he’s followed and idolized since 14! YEAH YEAH. And now Lando himself is hardly an extrovert like Oscar’s old prema friends/coworkers, so instead of yes I'll do a stupid dance so you can have good content and make your job easier Oscar -Acts of Service- Piastri has kinda got the most easy job in the world of loving Lando —I just want to make eye contact and know you hate/love this as much as I do— Norris. Like they genuinely match each others freaks in the sweetest introverted mutually beneficial way.

When you really dissect Oscar's Prema content, he’s equally expressive to everyone! He stares holes in the heads of Fred/Logan, doubles over laughing at Arthur/Robert, blushes over Angelina's teasing; it's a sanction of his care and attention divulged to each person in his sphere, one slice of the Oscar cake. Now take Lando? He's been treated to the whole Oscar Cake with a side of ice cream and a cherry on top. Like imagine if you had 10 glasses of water and you poured all of that water into one glass. Suddenly it’s overflowing and there’s water all over the table and the mess is apparent to everyone and the waiter is bringing over towels and someone's grandma just fucking slipped in the puddle and there's a baby crying and- right? right. Oscar’s love language that was distributed across an entire team of people now has nowhere to go but Lando. And not only is it love in respect to the game, it's I've known you years before you knew me, I fell asleep to your voice, watched you grow into the man you are today type love. Oscar is folded at the waist drowning Lando, staring at him with the force of 10x one man's ration of love and we are all god's honest witnesses! Yea no wonder he want that cookie so effing bad tf!!!!!

And it’s such a compelling dynamic because Oscar has been ready to transfer that quiet affection since the very beginning (had old pics of Lando on his phone up through his first year of F1 rightttt right) and since the start of it all, we just get front row seats to Lando reacting to this unconditional respect/love. WHICH IS EVEN GREATER FOR THE FREAKS AND THE WEIRDOS BC LANDO IS SUCH A WEIRDO AND HIS COMPLEXES TOWARDS OSCAR ARE SO COMPLICATED. Basically like. idk. I love when they beef bc Oscar is like I love u I love u I love u and landos like idgaf I’m cheating on u actually no I’m sorry come here I will give u silly nicknames reserved for only me to call u, but actually fuck u and ur talent I’m not spraying u w champange but also oh my god I’m a mess come be freaky w me about it,,,,, the put Lando Norris in a scenario versus his own mind agenda is great. (Bringing back the og tag to just say not ln4 hate, i just like to observe him like a bug in a jar and shake the jar hard bc he is a millionaire and my silly wabbit who I experiment on) anyways. Yea. Lando is complex. Oscar is cool bc he doesn’t care if he is cool and yet simultaneously he's so uncool bc having a crush on a guy for 8 years before being his mclaren arranged failhusband has never been easier nor sexier. OKAY. NO MORE. for now.

#woke up with even more to say this is too long I'm so sorry #did someone say parasocial?#ln4 meta #op81 meta #814 meta #landoscar #lando norris #oscar piastri

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alittlebitofsainz · 7 months ago

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a place in this world - ch1

a dream come true. you, a race engineer in formula one, having built your way up through the ranks. sure, the 2020 season hadn’t exactly gone the way that everyone had expected, but this was your chance, your moment to prove to the world of racing what you and your driver, carlos, were made of. but carlos isn’t staying at mclaren forever, and eventually, you’ll have a decision to make…

pairing: carlos sainz x f! reader. slow burn colleagues to friends to lovers (please, from my own experience, don’t follow this pipeline)

info: reader lives in the uk due to working at mclaren, and is somewhat implied to be british. it is also implied that they listen to bbc radio 2 and support leicester city football club. this may or may not be because these things are true of me and I wasn’t planning on publishing this, sorry!

warnings: cursing, a lil’ bit of angst, very infrequent use of y/n, one (1) google translated spanish sentence, a dry british writing style xoxo a/n: hello! welcome to a little passion project I never thought I’d share with the internet. this will eventually become a sort of ‘choose your own adventure’ type series, where you can make decisions about your career that can eventually lead you to different teams and drivers. will be posting a masterlist soon with more info so bare with me! any feedback / comments are always welcome

Masterlist | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4

Chapter One: … Ready for It?

it had started out like any other wednesday. except it hadn’t, not really. the nature of your job meant that there was no ‘any other wednesday’. most wednesdays meant that you were jetting off to some new country, your wide eyed face in the window seat, reflecting back off the pane of glass separating you from the dancing lights of some exciting new city, 5,000 feet below. race engineer to mclaren-renault formula one driver number 55, carlos sainz, wasn’t exactly what you had listed as what you wanted to be when you grew up, but you were far from disappointed that that’s what your linkedin profile now read, a metaphorical middle finger to everyone who’d said you’d never amount to anything in motorsports.

but by all accounts it had been a relatively uneventful wednesday in your life, in fact even more so than usual compared to the early morning check ins at Stansted airport that you’d grown accustomed to. this week was silverstone, your home race, if race engineers could call it that, and that meant no early mornings, no check ins, no flights, no decanting your liquids into tiny bottles and zipping them into a plastic bag to take through security. this wednesday was a stop at sainsburys to fill up the tank of your vw polo with petrol, and an 80 mile drive west towards silverstone circuit. the most exciting part of your morning was getting stuck in half an hour of traffic on the m25; you didn’t even need the dulcet tones of Richie Anderson on radio 2 to tell you there’d be traffic at Potters Bar. as a native southerner, you could just feel it in your bones.

still, only fifteen minutes late to track wasn’t too bad, considering your lengthy journey, and you were by far the last member of the team to arrive. you would’ve been even less late, but for the fact that you’d sat for the best part of five minutes in your car, engine off, staring at the notification on your phone. there were so many questions running around in your head, first and foremost of which was why on earth did dan from engineering have your number? but the second question, which was possibly the more important one, was why did carlos ask him for it? he said that it ‘might be useful to contact each other.’ if the current expression on your face could be summed up in a noise, it would be a very confused and very emphatic ‘huh?’.

sure, you and carlos interacted a lot during race weekends, that much was a given. you were forever catching up to discuss data, strategies, the car setup, the sandwich options at the hospitality, why the leicester city football team would beat real madrid in a fist fight. so okay, your conversations weren’t allstrictly work related, and you could’t deny that the two of you got on well and seemed to really understand each other, but that was all part of being a driver and race engineer duo; you had to be on the same wavelength. it was non-negotiable. but swapping phone numbers? you couldn’t imagine why the two of you would need to text or call each outside of work hours, and you had work phones for that. which led you to your third and fourth questions: number three, why did you suddenly feel so nervous and giddy with excitement when you re-read his message for the seventh time? (question three point five was why did you re-read his message seven times?) and number four, what the hell were you supposed to message back in reply?

you typed in a thumbs up emoji and then immediately deleted it. how fucking old were you, 65? what next, start talking to him about the cold war? no, you had to keep it fun and casual, not too overfamiliar but not too weirdly distant and cold. god, why was this so difficult? you felt like a schoolgirl with a teenage crush, constantly typing various replies and deleting them again, letter by letter. eventually you settled on a cool, calm and collected response, typing it out and shoving your phone into your pocket before you had time to overanalyse what you’d just sent. quickly gathering up your stuff from the boot of your car, you spammed the lock button on your car keys, just in case the first five times didn’t stick, and trotted off towards the entrance to the paddock.

as it was approaching the hour mark since he’d sent his text, carlos had been starting to worry that he’d overstepped an unwritten boundary. why had he even asked dan from engineering for her number in the first place? it just felt like something that he should have. lando had will’s number, he’d already asked him that. but once he’d sent the message he realised that he couldn’t really come up with an excuse as to why he’d needed it, why he couldn’t have waited until he’d seen her this weekend and ask for her number from herself. like a normal person. deep down he knew why, though he was in some sort of state of denial about it, and it was the same reason that he hadn’t asked for her number two weeks ago in Hungary, or at the previous race in Austria, or when he’d first met her at the start of the season.

he breathed a sigh of relief when her reply came through, 57 minutes after he’d sent his message. well, the first one that is. the second message came two minutes after the first; god, he couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough to forget to include who he was at the end of the text the first time around.

but it didn’t matter now, because she’d replied, and her words on the screen made him smile to himself, her voice in his head as he read them through three, now four times over. his fingers hovered over the keypad, contemplating a reply. he checked the time - it wouldn’t be long until she arrived at track anyway and they could chat in person, so he closed the messages app on his phone and tucked it away in his pocket, deciding against committing any words to the everlasting aether which was the iPhone messages app.

it was nearing the end of a lengthy strategy department meeting when your phone went off, a few pair of eyes glancing your way as you apologised profusely, eyes scanning over the text before sheepishly putting your phone on do not disturb and placing it back on the table face down. shit, this meeting wouldn’t be finished for another ten minutes at least, and by that time all the bacon and brie toasties would be gone (everyone knew they were the best lunch option). worse still, you hated the fact that you had to leave carlos hanging; pausing the strategy meeting to send off a quick text was equivalent to a cardinal sin, even if it was to carlos sainz. your eyes were flicking increasingly often down to the time on your laptop, the seconds crawling by as the time approached one o’clock. it felt like whichever godlike entity governed the laws of time was toying with you; surely it wasn’t possible for time to move this slowly? the head of strategy wrapped the meeting at 13:04, and you were out of your seat like a rocket.

amy, one of the strategists, fell into step beside you as you paced it down the corridor.

“you’ve heard about the brie and bacon being back on?” she asked; you only had to reply with a grin to give her the answer that she needed. she eyed you up, as much as anyone power walking down a busy corridor could whilst still maintaining maximum straight line speed.

“everyone from strategy and engineering has been in meetings. so who’s your source?” came her second question. you picked up your pace, under the guise of trying to get to the canteen quicker.

she had a habit of taking just enough time to respond to carlos’ messages to keep him guessing whether she actually would respond at all. it wasn’t entirely her fault, carlos realised; she’d apologised for earlier, explaining that she was busy driving. of course she was, how could he be such an idiot? maybe a part of him was hoping that she’d been acting coy, teasing him by waiting, purposefully trying to keep him on the edge of his seat.

carlos saw her enter the canteen, watched with a small, self satisfied smirk as her face fell, the rattan shelf where the brie and bacon toasties had been, now depressingly empty. he left it just long enough so that she was forced to consider which disappointing option to go for instead, before finally calling her over.

“Y/N!” carlos called, watching as her head whipped round, and he had to stifle a laugh at her confusion. he waved her over.

“sorry, I was stuck in a meeting.” she sighed, her voice slightly breathless. had she ran here? he fought back the urge to tease her about it, shaking his head slightly.

“don’t worry about it.” he replied, gesturing to the seat beside him as he spoke. her eyes lit up when her gaze fell on the plate on the table, in just the way he’d pictured in his head. god, he’d never get over the way the simple things pleased her, and he didn’t mean that in a bad way. over the past couple of months that he’d known her, carlos had learned that the little things really mattered, in a way that was almost rare in this environment. she looked upon a brie and bacon sandwich like it was the sun that shined, and if she’d have looked up at carlos in that moment, she’d have seen that he was looking at her in the exact same way.

“is that for me?”

“no.” carlos replied, deadpan. she shot him a look, her face screwed up in a pout that he’d grown more accustomed to the more he teased her like this. eventually he let out a soft chuckle, as a way to say I’m only joking, of course it’s for you, and she sat down in the seat next to him with a playful scowl, which only caused him to laugh more.

“thanks, carlos. you’re the best.” she told him through a mouthful of brie, bacon and toasted bread.

“I know.” he replied, a cheeky grin dancing across his face. “it was the last one as well.”

“amy’s gonna be pissed.” she giggled, glancing over her shoulder to watch as her colleague was forced to settle for regular ham and cheese.

a podium finish to p13. was it worse to fail because of your own shortcomings or because of something that was out of your control? if you’d asked carlos sainz right now, he would think about it for a moment, and then tell you to vete a la mierda.*

his phone screen lighting up in the darkness was the only thing that brought his attention to how dark it had become in his hotel room. christ, how long had he been sat there, staring at the wall, trying to process how frustrated and angry and upset he was? he’d put his phone on silent, tired of all the commiseratory messages that had been coming through, but apparently his bedtime reminder didn’t obey the laws of do not disturb. sighing, he unlocked the device, and quickly scanned down the many notifications he had been ignoring for the past few hours. one stood out above all the rest, because of course it did. he felt guilt clutch him as he noticed the message from well over an hour ago. from her.not only guilty at the fact that he’d not seen her message, but for some reason guilty for perceiving that he’d let her down at her home race. it was stupid, he knew, to feel that way - it wasn’t his fault that his tyre had blown out with just a few laps to go, but he knew how excited she’d been for her first ever british gp, and it had all ended in disappointment. his fingers hovered over the keyboard at the bottom of his phone for a moment, a million different emotions whizzing round in his head, bouncing off the sides like a demented pinball machine. no wonder he had a headache. he drew in a sharp breath before typing out his reply.

*I’m hoping this means somewhat akin to ‘fuck off’

you’d almost forgotten that you’d sent carlos sainz a message of commiseration, which was shocking considering how long you’d been deliberating over it only a mere hour ago. you were back in your own bed in your hometown, seeing no need to stick around seeing as there would be no celebrations this weekend, and carlos had disappeared as soon as the team debrief had ended, making it very clear that he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone. which made it all the more surprising when you leaned over to your bedside table, bleary eyes blinking back sleep as your vision adjusted to the pitch black of your room, to pick up the phone which had woken you from your sleep.

your eyes blinked again against the harsh light of the phone, taking a moment to focus on the big bold numbers on your lockscreen. 01:03? who was texting you at this time? eyebrows knitted together in an increasingly deep frown, you scanned carlos’ message. as was becoming customary, you read it several times over, this time to check whether you’d read it right. why would he want to ring you, at this time of night as well? your mind started to reach for wild possibilities - was he in trouble? hurt? worse?

before he changed his mind, carlos hit the telephone symbol next to her contact details.

“Carlos, are you okay?” her voice came through almost immediately, sounding equal parts panicked yet somehow sleepy. shit, not only had he caused her to worry, he’d probably just woken her up in the middle of the night as well. what kind of dickhead rings a colleague that he’s only known for a few months at 1am? he cleared his throat.

“fuck, sorry, I woke you up.”

“don’t worry about it, I was awake.” she replied. a blatant lie, but carlos appreciated the attempt to make him feel better.

“can I help you with something?” she continued, still sounding concerned. he shook his head even though she couldn’t see.

“yes, no. fuck, I don’t know.” he growled at himself for being so confused, so confusing, for not even really knowing why he’d called her. was he going insane, or did he just hear a soft sigh on the other end of the line? he squeezed his eyes shut, collecting himself to try again, but she beat him to it.

“I’m sorry about today, carlos, it must be tough to deal with.”

sometimes it felt like she knew him better than he knew himself. he dragged a hand down his face.

“yeah, I’m- it’s not great.” he stumbled over his words slightly, his voice catching in his throat. usually he’d be reluctant to show this vulnerability, embarrassed even, but something about the late hour combined with how oh-so-soft her voice was… it made him forget his pride for just that moment.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” he admitted, feeling a ramble coming on but equally feeling powerless to stop it. “I know that it was a problem with the tyre, I know that it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. and then there’s always a part of me that wonders whether there was anything that I could’ve done. like, maybe if I’d driven less aggressively or something, or changed the way I braked around a certain corner. I still feel like I’ve let myself down, let the team down, let you dow-“

“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” her abrupt reply broke him from his monologue, stopping him in his tracks and allowing him to fill his lungs with air, not realising how out of breath he was becoming with his run-on sentences.

“what?” came his soft reply. he’d heard perfectly clearly what she’d said the first time. but a part of him needed to hear it again.

“you didn’t let me down, carlos.” she repeated, with the same clarity, the same sincerity, the same low tone that he’d never heard from her before that made her sound so wise beyond her years.

“you didn’t let anyone down. this wasn’t your fault. I know it doesn’t make it any less frustrating or easier to deal with - there’s nothing I can say that will change that. but please, please don’t blame yourself for any part of it.”

there was silence on both ends for a moment, before carlos let out a long sigh.

“I- yeah, I guess you’re right.” there was something still on his mind, something that one am carlosknew that one pm carlos would never want to talk about, least of all burden his race engineer with it. but that was all the more reason to say it now.

“I just feel so much pressure to perform, now that I have the ferrari contract.” his voice dropped even lower as he spoke, as if whispering it quietly enough could make it not be true. “I feel like I have to earn my place there, you know?”

“carlos, you were P-fucking-3.”

something about the way she stressed the syllables made carlos chuckle despite himself, and from the way she let out a small giggle on the other end of the phone, he guessed that that had been her intention all along.

“anyone can see that you’ve earned that seat at ferrari. you’ve proved that time and time again already. this isn’t about anyone else, this is about you, and what you believe you deserve. the only person you need to convince is yourself.”

carlos chuckled again, feeling some sort of playful nature already coming back to him. maybe he’d finally figured out why he wanted to call her in the middle of the night, maybe it was even the reason he wanted her number in the first place. maybe it was because he knew that no matter how crappy he was feeling, talking to her always seemed to turn the day around. she always seemed to make him smile.

“very inspirational.” he replied, his tone almost teasing over her ‘believing in yourself’ speech. the corners of his lips curved upwards as he could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end.

“this is what I get for trying to be nice.” she muttered, but her tone was light, reciprocating the teasing. carlos smiled, his first genuine smile in several hours. probably since the last time he’d seen her.

“thank you, really. talking to you it… it always puts me in a better mood.” carlos confessed, glad that this was a phone call so she couldn’t see the way his cheeks lit up a soft shade of pink.

“anytime, carlos.”

when they eventually hung up the call, carlos felt lighter than he had in weeks, like she’d melted all his problems away with her soft voice and warm heart. he slept easy that night. meanwhile, she was now wide awake.

you groaned when the sound of your phone pinging dragged you from your admittedly tumultuous sleep. it had been difficult to drift off again after that call with carlos, a million thoughts buzzing around your brain like a swarm of bees on cocaine. you felt bad for carlos, sure, but that wasn’t enough to keep you awake on its own. there was another feeling there; if you were to flip through an oxford english dictionary until you found a word that summed it up you might settle for ‘intrigued’.

you were intrigued that carlos that had decided to ring you of all people last night; surely he had family, or at the very least close friends, that he would rather turn to? but you were also intrigued by your own reaction - why were you feeling so warm and fuzzy that carlos had chosen you, the knowledge that when he was feeling low you were the one he wanted to hear on the other end of the line creating some sort of feeling in your heart, like someone was squeezing it not-quite-too tightly?

it was these questions, and an incessant amount of bin lorries driving past at 5am, that kept you from falling back asleep, and were the reason that you were grumbling now, as you reached over to pick up your phone. the grumbling ceased the moment you read the message and saw who it was from, replaced by a softly murmured ‘oh’, and that strange feeling in your chest again.

as always feedback and comments are welcomed with massive appreciation and open arms! a second part is written and will be out soonish! much love, Katie x

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #f1 fic #f1 imagine

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37sommz-archive · 4 months ago

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CH. 04. NOW PLAYING: lunch by billie eilish [fluff]. ✼.⠀summary: michaela draws the attention of dts, 1.5k. ✼.⠀view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

✼.⠀MARCH 14, 2019 — melbourne, australia

“Formula One returns this weekend with the season opener in Australia. The return of Honda to the pinnacle of motorsports finds itself overshadowed by the racing debut of a rookie.”

“Michaela Sommers will take on a historic role in today’s race. The Australian will become the first woman since Lella Lombardi to be entered in and race for points.”

The coverage of the rookie’s historic weekend is set over images of the season’s twenty drivers moving through the Melbourne crowds. Nineteen pairs of feet adorned in their teams’ respective colors exit the small cruise ship, excitement for the new season bringing a lightness to their steps. Daniel Ricciardo, the senior Australian on the grid, stops to sign a fan’s yellow Renault hat. His trademark smile falters for a brief moment as he turns to look behind him.

His bright expression melts into one of concern as he catches sight of the Toro Rosso rookie, Alex Albon, but not his shorter friend. In two long strides, the Renault driver is at the Thai driver’s side. Both among the taller drivers, their heads peek out beyond the orange cap of the Mclaren rookie, Lando Norris, just ahead of them. Engrossed in taking a photo with a young fan, Alex is soon pulled out of his motions by the senior driver. With a tattooed hand on his shoulder, the camera crew strains to capture the shot. The microphones pinned to the lapels of their team polos pick up a few low words.

“Where’s Michaela? She was just behind me off the boat.”

The Australian’s words carry a noticeable twang to them. His accent bleeds with concern before it is starkly contrasted by the posher, lilted British accent of the Toro Rosso driver. His head whips to check the exit ramp still attached to the small cruise they had all taken across the channel. His shoulders rise as if attempting to kiss his ear lobes.

“They haven’t removed the ramp. She must be on the boat still?”

As quickly as he delivered the response to the Australian’s question was the same quickness it took for his attention to be captured once more by another fan. An older boy this time who excitedly began to rattle off how he had been robbed by an untimely Safety Car at a race he finished just outside podium the previous Formula Two season.

Snickering to himself, the Renault-donned Australian lifts his cap to run a tanned hand through his curly brown hair. He releases a breath in reaction to both the missing rookie and the heat bubbling through the force of the crowd.

The episode cuts away from the occupied drivers to another scene. The cameraman focuses on a restroom door aboard the aforementioned boat, silence rings through the scene before the a feminine humming pulls the action back together. A click of the door echoes through the empty hall before a head of platinum blonde hair, the roots kept a darker tone, peeks out behind the white door. The owner’s eyes finally make contact with the cameraman, a mischievous smile adorns the young woman’s warm features.

Pushing the door open, she exhales softly with a throw of her intentionally waved platinum hair over her shoulder. The red accents of her black Alfa Romeo polo stand out against her bleached hair and browned skin.

Her smile never falters as she leads the cameraman away from the hallway to the ramp awaiting her exit.

“Had to touch up my makeup.” She explains her absence casually before allowing herself a polite nod to the crew left on the small boat.

“The humidity’s already done a number on my lashes. Got them all clumpy and shit.” She mutters the swear under her breath as if hoping the microphone would be unable to pick it up.

“George is covering for me,” she says with a spark of comfortability, adding an muttered caveat with, “I hope.” Her steps come to a halt in front of a mirror, her hands move to arrange her hair before smoothly adjusting her polo and flashing a smile to check her teeth.The ease she exhibits in front of the camera is noted to be a stark contrast to the other more reserved personalities among the grid.

It is another three steps before she is descending down the ramp. A paler hand reaches out to land upon the shoulder of the Alfa Romeo. The hand belonging to the driver’s PR manager brushes away at a stray wave covering up the team logo. With a smile, the driver hands over a tube of mascara, silently thanking her before making her final exit onto the pavement where the fans lie in anxious await.

Murmurs in the crowd turn to roars as the home-turf rookie makes her final descent. Her short manicured nails catch their sights as she waves to their joyous cheers. The previewed smile first shown to the cameraman trailing behind her grows impossibly brighter before a kiss is blown to the crowd before her.

Their roars begin to fade as the scene switches once more. The same driver depicted in the previous moments returns to the screen. Her smile absent from her face as she carefully adjusts her uniform before moving to place an Alfa Romeo cap upon her platinum blonde locks.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the producer’s voice rang out from behind the camera. As if flipping an ‘on’ switch, her lips pull into the familiar bright smile.

“Okay. My name is Michaela Sommers and I am a rookie driver for Alfa Romeo Racing.” Her faintly manicured hand raises with a thumbs up directed towards the producer.

Her eyes widen in question releasing a gentle, “Was that it?”, in confirmation she had successfully met their requirements. “Tell us your name and who you race for,” had been their previous instruction. After a glance to the sound engineer, the producer mirrors her thumbs up.

“Michaela Sommers is definitely going to be one of the more scrutinized drivers this year.” Will Buxton takes over the scene as it cuts to his thoughts. “As the most recent Formula Two champion, she’s got everything to prove and everything to lose.”

His face is replaced by a compilation of Michaela’s wheel to wheel racing in the previous season’s championship. Her iconic red Prema Racing car twists and turns in waltzes against the cars of George Russell, Lando Norris, and Alex Albon; the other promoted drivers from her championship season.

“She had a fantastic Formula Two season. Complete dominance from the very first turn and she never let her foot off the gas.”

Another montage takes over the screen, this time showcasing her shattering eleven wins across feature and sprint races. As the montage plays out, the Australian lifts trophies above her head with the widest of smiles on her face. The drivers poised on either side of her change with every celebration but she remains upon the top step. Ending with a shot of a spray of champagne dousing her in sweet alcohol, the scene shifts back to Will Buxton.

“She’s a damn good driver. One of the best talents we’ve seen in some time.” His voice continues to speak as the view of her car maneuvering around the most difficult tracks in the world overtakes the view of his face.

“She’s technically sound.” The wheels of her car scrape onto the track, leaving a mark as if signifying her presence that day.

“Level-headed.” Her voice emerges with a crackle as she narrowly misses a catastrophic crash with a more reckless driver. A calm, sing-songy, “Down boy, too close.” Echoes as Will’s voice comes to replace her’s once more.

“With the latest breaking you’ll ever see,” he completes his thoughts with a laugh. True to his words, the next few scenes are another compilation of her overtaking into and out of turns. Her car pointed in an almost perfect position with each overlaying video.

“The expectations couldn’t be higher for her. She’s got the talent and the confidence to take her career into the stratosphere. But there’s an unprecedented amount of pressure being placed on her shoulders.” His expression turns solemn at the release of his last statement.

As he begins to explain the thought, the subject of his speech comes into view once again. She nods as he hears the producer’s question. Buxton’s voice continues to speak over the silence of her clip, “Every race, every moment of her time is going to be examined under a microscope and used as a thesis on female drivers. It’s almost unfair. Almost.”

His voice cuts away as Michaela waits in anticipation of answering the producer’s question.

“Do you think you’ll be given a fair chance at succeeding in Formula One?” The producer’s question is met with silence at first. As she chooses her words carefully, Michaela’s name appears on the screen in bold white letters. Tilting her head to the side, her eyes exude a level of seriousness previously unseen to the audience. All it takes is another beat before the background music quiets and Michaela decides upon the right answer.

“I don’t think I care if they do. I’ll find a way to win regardless. Even if it’s out of spite.”

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alovelywaytospendanevening · 2 months ago

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"Dominated by Compulsion" by Siegfried Mandel (1959)

(Mr. Mandel, on the British faculty of Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute, is a critic of modern fiction from both sides of the Atlantic.)

Readers who became acquainted only recently with Mary Renault through her magnificent historical novel, "The King Must Die," may be surprised to learn that she has seven earlier works of fiction to her credit. Since the Thirties, she has had a large English audience for what might be called "psychological romances" placed in contemporary settings. "Middle Mist," for instance, concerns itself with three young ladies in Cornwall who slowly work out their personal problems; "Return to Night" features a plaintive duet between a small-town lady doctor and a would-be actor; "North Face" allows two strangers to solve their marital difficulties while mountain climbing. In all these novels, Miss Renault masters a lyrical style, meticulous and probing, and introduces us into a world of emotions so delicate and private that the reader often feels like an intruder. Much the same can be said for "The Charioteer," an early Renault novel which pictures the subtleties and crudities that mark a subterranean fraternity of homosexuals in wartime England. Since Miss Renault deliberately refrains from sitting in judgment on her characters and offers no hashed-over sociological explanations, the entire novel hinges on the effective portrayal of Laurie Odell. We must infer that because Laurie never really knew his father, he was disposed to seek a masculine image and ideal among his surroundings. At prep school (which in fiction seems to be a breeding place for taboo relationships) Laurie "was lifted into a kind of exalted dream, part loyalty, part hero-worship, all romance. Half-remembered images moved in it, the tents of Troy, the columns of Athens, David waiting in an olive grove for the sound of Jonathan's bow." In answer to this dream comes Ralph Lanyon, a campus hero, who symbolically offers Laurie a copy of Plato's "Phaedrus," a discourse on love. Later their lives become more firmly entwined when Ralph saves Laurie at Dunkirk. While recovering from a kneecap wound, Laurie meets other members of Ralph's fraternity - chillingly etched by the author. Some of them carry their inclinations to excess, and in distress Laurie turns to a mild-mannered hospital orderly for understanding. This relationship is doomed because Laurie is so completely dominated by compulsion and instinct that he has no choice but to commit himself to Ralph permanently. As if to illustrate Laurie's expressed regrets that he was not born in ancient Athens where bisexuality was permissive, where he could have had a family and a lover, too, Miss Renault wrote a sequel, "The Last of the Wine," a novel set in the times of Plato. Viewed from a historic distance the subject becomes less unpalatable. While working against the inevitable odds of deviational material, the author has a breadth of insight that rarely permits "The Charioteer" to falter. At times Miss Renault echoes the demonic tone of Proust's "Cities of the Plain" and adopts the outspokenness of such related contemporary novels as Charles Jackson's "The Fall of Valor."

Originally published in the September 1959 issue of Mattachine Review magazine.

#mary renault #the charioteer #the last of the wine #literature #lit #gay literature #lgbt literature #lgbtq literature #bookblr #history #gay history #lgbt history #lgbtq history #gay #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #50s #1950s

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smoothoper44tor · 5 months ago

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Enemies on the papers, lovers in the shadows

(🔖) Pairing: Jenson Button x male reader

Face claim: Andy Samberg

(🔖) Summary: The McLaren boys go from enemies to lovers during the 2010 season. Apparently, they just needed to blow some steam of.

(🔖) Warnings: use of bad words, degradation, internalised homophobia (kinda), free homophobia f1, suggestive, mentions of hate sex.

masterlist | part two…

27 November 2009 . . .

NEWS

Jenson Button on joining fellowship driver Paolo Primo in McLaren for the next 2010 season.

Both drivers had a very intense rivalry this season, having a very close fight for the championship. Primo failed in winning the championship by 32 points. He assured unfair penalisation, which was, according to him once again, Button’s fault, made him lose.

Button and Primo made several displays of hate between each other during press conferences and interviews. Still, Button is “very intrigued in what will this new season bring him”, and alleges he “couldn’t be more happy to be teammates with Paolo [Primo], I love that guy”

More info • you might also like . . .

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ｡･ੈ✩‧₊˚

26 March 2010 . . .

NEWS

Paolo Primo and alleged girlfriend, Joanna Newsom, arriving the Paddock (Melbourne, Australia)

Primo arrived this morning for the first practice along his alleged girlfriend. He hasn’t confirmed being in a relationship, yet they have being seen together in several occasions, being one the Bahrain Grand Prix last week.

He was asked about relationship with teammate Jenson Button after crash in the Bahrain GP, Button was able to keep driving, finishing 7th, but Primo ended DNFing due to damage from the crash. He dismissed the question instantly: “Childs can only act like childs” he said.

Paolo and Jenson were seen having an argument. He was later seen with Lewis Hamilton and Robert Kubica, Renault drivers this season, to not talk to Jenson again for the rest of the morning.

"Get the fuck out, Button" Paolo hissed, barely looking at the blond man. Jenson had sneaked into his drivers room, catching Paolo by surprise while changing into his driving clothes.

"C´mon Pao, don´t be boring" cheekiness brigthed his expression. He kept on trying to get close to the american. Paolo pulled his shirt up, blue eyes glued at him. "I came to check on you" He finally gulped.

"T´thing is I don´t want to fucking see you" Paolo punched the other´s chest with the fireproof in his hand. Jenson could do nothing but back off, his wide smile as a proof he was pleased with the touch. "Seriously, I´m not in the mood" He pronounced each word roughly.

"Stop acting all grumpy, I´m sure we can work this out"

"Work this out! Are ya´ fucking kidding me?" He got closer with each word "I tried to ‘work this out’, and you’ve fucking with me since first day" Jenson was unable to keep his eyes away from him, they were so close. Eyes, lips, eyes, lips, eyes... "Making fun of me, talk shit behind ma´back, fucking my race. My race Jen-" lips. Every word abandoned his mind as Jenson´s hand caressed his curls. His back muscles clenched when the british’s left hand found his waist. The hand curved perfectly against him, shameless teases into his skin. Right when the hand found the curve to his ass Paolo pushed him, not hard enough for them to separate, but rough enough for Jenson to slow down with a desperate breath.

"You kissed me" An amused expression in the curly haired man "Who the fuck kisses in tha’ middle of a fight" Jenson smiled dizzily.

"Things were heating up" He said smugly, the smile on his face growing wider "I didnt figure that girlfriend of yours would mind" That little piece of shit, of course he knew. The team was forcing him into a relationship, good sponsoring they said. Paolo thought nobody would know except his team.

"God, you are an asshole" his hands pushed Jenson against the door of the room hesitant.

"Am I?" The curly haired shallow, ignoring unsuccessfully all the thoughts that run in his head.

"Shut up"

"Man, where were you?" Kubica screamed for his attention as Paolo made his way out of the McLaren motor home. Both Renault drivers looked at him, Robert wearing a cap weirdly and Lewis drinking from his bottle.

"Drivers room, getting ready an´all" he held the racing suit, adjusting the clothing to his waist.

"Having some fun or what?" The older man eyed his neck. Paolo heated up, thinking he had hide the red, now turning purple, spot.

"Uhm, yeah. Having fun" he mumbled. Lewis laughed.

"Hilarious. What a piece you are"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ｡･ੈ✩‧₊˚

28 August 2010 . . . (Belgium gp)

paoprimo54

❤️ liked by jensonbutton, mclaren and others

Hello Instagram?

comments

user5: he’s so baby girl

jensonbutton: he likes them big

⤷ user5: wow, I wasn’t expecting that

⤷ user2: and he’s talking about en sandwiches right

⤷ user66: be so fcking for right I just knew they banged each other after Australia.

user3: IM GOING INSANE HEs SO BEAUTIFUUUUL 🎀😩

user9: Jensons comments is insane

⤷ user8: those two have the hots for each other

user12: the man you are pao, the man you are 😔

mclaren

❤️ liked by paoprimo54, kimiraikonnen and others

Both of our drivers will renew their contract next year. We’re very proud to count with these young talents, and are be ready to work on the constructors and teams championships!! (tagged: jensonbutton, paoprimo54)

comments

paoprimo54: Looking forward to our relationship together!!

⤷ jensonbutton: Sure you do Pao

user6: IM LOVING THIS MCLAREN ERA 🤭

user23: 💪🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡

user9: Lovely team, lovely duo

⤷ user47: destructive duo*

jensonbutton: 💪💪💪

⤷ paoprimo54: shut up nutcase 😘

“God” he lets out a heavy sigh. Both of them naked in the hotel room. All windows were open and a lean blanket covered them dramatically “We should do this more often” Jenson looked beautiful with his dumb characteristic smiled, all flustered.

“What? Screwing in my hotel room?” Paolo laughs, resting his head in his right bicep.

“Yeah, but-” Jenson laughs at his little joke “not what I meant. You and I”

“Are you asking me out honey?” The derision in his tone was more than obvious, but the blond melted with the pet name, every little piece of attention melting his skin lovely.

“I am” The American saw Jenson stand up in his elbows just to see his face better “Do you want to go out with me?” A little smile crawling into his face.

“I don’t know Jense” Paolo knew nothing good could come out of that, they could be seen, filmed, but a little voice in the back of his head whispered prayers for him to accept.

“Italian food” Jense’s smile grew back again because he knew Paolo wouldn’t say no to his favourite food.

“Italian huh?” He bitted his lip annoyed “Shit, fine”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ｡･ੈ✩‧₊˚

16 November 2010 . . .

skysports

❤️ liked by sebastianvettel, joannanwesom and others

Paolo Primo winner of the Constructors Championship of 2010 with McLaren. He is the first American winner since Mario Andretti in 1978 and first Jew to win a Championship since Jody Scheckter in 1979. After two DNF’s and a rough time getting along with his teammate, Primo scored the most points, being followed very close by Sebastian Vettel Red Bull’s new acquisition.

comments have been restricted

markwebber: Amazing brother💪💪💪

jensonbutton: Very deserved ❤️!

joannanewsom: ❤️❤️❤️

feralonsoofficial: Well done Paolo 💪😘

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ｡･:*˚:✧｡ *ੈ✩‧₊˚ * ｡･ੈ✩‧₊˚

6 June 2024 . . .

paoprimo54

❤️ liked by jensonbutton, pedrodelarosa and others

I’ve heard there’s been a lot of talking about mine and Jense’s relationship, has been for 15 years. I just wanted to clarify that we did in fact hate each other for long eight years, buuuuut we just needed to blow some steam and now we’re very close (that’s our kid in the last one).

comments

user1: definitely not on my 2024 bingo

⤷ user1: not complaining tho

markwebber: Proud of you guys!

user2: PAO N JENSE HUSBANDS CONFIRMED 💕💍👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

sebastianvettel: 💪❤️

lewishamilton: Baby Lou looks beautiful!

user3: this is actually my Roman Empire

joannanewsom: ❤️

user5: my favourite gays

⤷ user8: best enemies to lovers fr fr

user13: And during pride month… The way I love u Paolo

logansargeant: Happy pride month I guess lol💪

⤷ paoloprimo54: hahah ❤️

#formula 1 #f1 #male reader #jenson button #jb5 #jenson button x reader #Jenson button x male reader #andy samberg

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frenchcarssince1946 · 1 year ago

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1998 Renault Express

My tumblr-blogs: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/germancarssince1946 & https://www.tumblr.com/blog/frenchcarssince1946 & https://www.tumblr.com/blog/englishcarssince1946 & https://www.tumblr.com/blog/italiancarssince1946

#1998 #renault #express

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bellewintersroe · 1 year ago

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Sebastian Vettel x RBDesignEngineer Reader.

Set in 2013 during the GP, Jennifer is fresh out of uni and has made a name for herself within the F1 world. She joins Redbull-Renault as one of their engineer designers and easily fits into the team, forming friendships easily. Most of all, she captures the attention of three time world champion, Sebastian Vettel.

Part 2 - here the LINK to part 1. Warning: Jen’s bf is a controlling, toxic ASSHOLE, so mentions of abuse that may be triggering to some. Bf is a dick bcs the angst is fun to write- Seb takes an instant dislike to her bf because he just has a good eye for evil people 😈 let’s just say Sebastian slays her bday whilst her bf… is a flop.

Australia, Albert Park, March 17th. “-And I told them, you gotta look out for Sebastian’s tires, but nobody wanted to listen to me!” I explained, leaning over to speak directly into the drivers ear over the loud club music. Our first race in Australian with the RB9 went relatively good apart from a good teething issues. Teething issues that I did point out but the mechanics were happy with the tires that brought Sebastian down from pole to 3rd- still not a bad result.

“Next time, I am listening to you.” Seb slipped an arm over the back of the booth, behind me, the comment and smile he flashed me sending a rush of warmth through my chest. With Dutch courage I was able to chatter freely to Sebastian. “Well, I’m not really a mechanic.” I shrugged. “Hm?” He leaned in a little closer. My breath hitched, scanning over his face as the tipsy man leant against me slightly. “I just said, I’m not really a mechanic…” I gently spoke, eyes falling to the small gap between us. Feeling a little tense, my eyes roamed around the room, suddenly catching a glimpse of a tall, dark haired man ahead of me. The warmth that once spread through my chest was ignited into an uncomfortably hot fire. It raged deep inside of me, the sensations of panic, guilt, comfort all hitting me at once. It was my boyfriend. All the way from England. An odd sickness knocked me still, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “Luke!” I borderline choked out, feeling Sebastian pull back slightly, eyeing up the figure with an awkwardly dirty expression. I cringed instantaneously.

“Who is that?” Sebastian questioned jusf as I was pushing myself out of the booth. “My boyfriend.” I was just as shocked, if not more than everybody else seemed to be. It wasn’t that I acted single around here, I just never told anybody about Luke, my anxieties and uncomfortable sensation that surrounded the topic was no exception in the current moment. “Hi!” I breathlessly walked over, halting in front of him. “What’re you not gonna give me a kiss? C’mere.” He pulled me, as I tripped forwards, feeling his lips on mine. The sensation felt foreign, it had been over 2 weeks since I’d last seen him, I hoped with the distance came separation- but Luke was insistent that if I took this job he would follow me. Yes- follow me.

“Oh, you’ve still got that shit on your lips.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as I stared at him, forcing a smile. It was weird, I felt nothing, nothing but a slight fear seeing the bottle of alcohol clutching in his left hand. I already had the breakup rehearsed so perfectly in my mind, ready for my next venture home. The same breakup I’d attempted four times over in a mere six months out of the eighteen we had spent together. “Sorry.” I awkwardly spoke, not loud enough so he could hear me. When he turned to the rest of my friends sat around I felt a pang in my chest knowing what he was expecting.

“This is Luke, um, here’s Christian- you know Christian, Molly, James, oh there’s Manny, that there is Sebastian-”

“Yeah, I know who Sebastian is, hun.” Luke nudged me off as a joke as I now sat across from where I previously was, unable to meet anybody’s eye. “Oh, you never mentioned a boyfriend, Jen!!” James exclaimed. “Oh, you didn’t?” There came that passive aggressive laugh from Luke’s clenched jaw. I mentally swore as James’ word. I knew he didn’t mean it to sound so bad, but I just knew there’d be an argument later that night. Across from me, I watched Sebastian’s eyes narrow towards the man before he seemed to shake it off and sip from his own drink. It was only a brief glance, sparingly looking at Luke. Maybe I was just being dramatic, but he didn’t seem too happy. And when he looked at me, he just looked purely confused. That’s pretty how much it went for the rest of the evening, Luke’s anger was becoming more and more noticeable until we got inside the hotel room. To our left, was Sebastian, and to our right was a poor Hannah, RedBull’s Senior Strategy Engineer.

I was silent when the bedroom door closed, Luke stumbled straight to the hallway, spinning around to me and spitting when the door was shut. “Yeah now you’re being so quiet, hardly happy to see me after three weeks, are you?” “I was just shocked.” I stumbled, placing my bag on the side. “It’s your birthday next week, why wouldn’t I be here?!” He snapped. “I said I was just shocked, that’s all.” I repeated, reaching over for my makeup wipes. “Don’t bother wearing all that shit on your lips next time, looks stupid anyway.”

“Luke!” I exclaimed in shock as he blew me off, stripping off his shirt and dropping himself into bed. “You and I both know why you’re wearing it.”

“Because I like it.” I defended, harshly ripping an wipe out of the packet. “I don’t… I know the other men do though.”

“Oh my god, don’t start this…” I felt borderline defeated already, standing like a lemon as I wanted to plead with the drunk to shut up. “Yeah, oh my god!” He shot back up out of bed, still jean classed. “You never fucking said how many men you were working with, now you’re dressing like this, acting like this! You don’t even tell them you have a fucking boyfriend!”

“Please be quiet, everybody’s next door-” “You think I give a fuck who’s next door?!” He hissed back as I sighed, hurrying to make my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in, feeling and hearing him slam on the door in response. I could hear the heaviness of his angered breathing from the other side of the wood. I hated when he got this intense and riled up, it struck a fear inside me then I figured it was just better to shut up rather than ignite his anger further.

“You’re the only one who gives a fuck, Jennifer! Nobody else! None of these people give a shit about you either! What, after three months you think they want to be friends with you?!” I felt complete and utter humiliation as he yelled away, I knew these hotel rooms weren’t soundproof, the thought of everybody knowing we were having a domestic after one night felt humiliating and damaging- never mind his words that hit a sensitive part deep inside of me. “A world champion, F1, fucking celebrity, wanting to be friends with you. You’re fucking kidding me, Jennifer. Get a fucking life!” That night I slept in the bathroom. It sounded absolutely pathetic, I know it was, but it was the reality of being with Luke. It’s like now he was back I felt this odd attachment to him, like without him I’d be lonely and he was my crutch to this whole world. Pathetic, again. I knew, but I couldn’t control it. I missed the separation I once had from him, and when my birthday rolled around the week after he was still there, this time, in a different country, Malaysia.

“Happy birthday! Happy, happy birthday, why didn’t you say it was your birthday?!” An all so familiar voice walked in through to where I was seated in front of my computers, I audibly gasped, feeling arms wrap around my front. It was Sebastian. “Oh!” My hands flew up to the warmth of his skin, his hands gentle as he gave me a light squeeze into his chest.

“I- thank you!” I laughed, feeling him glance over my side to give me the most adoring smile. “23?” “22. I accidentally told the camera guy the other day I was already 22.” I winced as he laughed, arm sliding off me. “No need to keep your birthday a secret though?!” Seb stood up straighter as I pushed my head phones off, gazing up to him with that fluttering feeling lingering in my chest. “I know… how did you know it was my birthday?”

“I know everything. You’ll be here until 4, right?” “5 tonight.” “Perfect.” “Why?” “Just perfect.” god knows what he meant, he was back and fourth all day, working out, chatting, checking out his car, tyres, eating, chatting some more, getting back to work and meetings. Eventually I’d wondered if nothing was to come at all from our brief conversation, it wasn’t like I expected anything, but I was just confused.

“Your boyfriend treat you to anything nice?” Hannah perked a brow, offering me an oddly knowing look. I knew she’d heard our argument back in Australia, I could tell by the way she’d look at me the next morning, ask if I was okay- I didn’t continue any further discussion about it with her.

“Yeah!” I took a deep inhale, pushing one headphone off. “Yeah.” I responded again, gathering my thoughts. Correction- lies. “What’s he got?” She responded as I awkwardly laughed, letting out a gentle exhale through my nose.

“He’s not given me it yet.” I defended, biting down on my lip and returning my attention back to my computer. My teeth were gritted together and my leg began to bounce uncomfortably from under the desk.

“He’s not got you anything has he?” She honestly spoke as I cleared my throat. “No.” The urge to get upset was creeping up on me.

“What? Did you say your boyfriends got you nothing?” This time, an Australian accent approached, Mark Webber was there, brows furrowed. “Ah- not yet.” I forced a laugh. “Well it’s a good thing we’re all-”

“Happy birthday to you…” Oh my god… “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Jeeeeeen, happy birthday to you!” I gasped in complete and utter ecstasy seeing everybody gathering, singing happy birthday. At either side of the cake stood Christian and Sebastian (of course) with a huge 22 in pink fondant spread across the cake. My heart swelled and lips immediately lifted, I almost felt tears fill my eyes as I perched on the edge of my seat, blowing out the 22 candles lit across the cake. Nobody had ever done anything like that for me before, ever… and the mastermind behind it all?? Sebastian Vettel.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, for today!” I practically threw my arms around the German man. He audibly giggled into my embrace, leaning down to kiss my cheek as I laughed, slightly tipsy from the few glasses of champagne I’d been fed. Christian told me to ‘fuck off work’ and the lot of them all enjoyed a few drinks with me. “You deserve a good birthday, everybody does, no?”

“I know but… I just didn’t expect it today, I appreciate it, thank you.”

“I would’ve gotten you a present if I knew sooner, but… hopefully your boyfriend treats you with something good.” He honestly spoke as I felt my heart pang. A sad kinda laugh escaped my lips as Sebastian cocked his head to the side with a confused expression.

“What’s funny?” “Nothing, really, just… I don’t think anything can top all that today, thank you again.” I smiled as he nodded back to me, lips stretched. He reached out, rubbing my upper back before we headed back to our rooms.

“Oh and Jen?” “Yeah?” “If he shouts at you on your birthday, I’ll come barging in…”

#Sebastian Vettel #Sebastian Vettel x reader #Sebastian Vettel x you #Sebastian Vettel x OC

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buckybarnesthehotshot · 1 year ago

Text

Not Broken Yet (Daniel Ricciardo x F!Reader)

|ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ|

summary: in which he makes up with an old flame upon finding his way back to the track

word count: 4189

warnings: angst, not proofread, mentions of daniel’s “hiatus”, rbr!reader

a/n: how are all of us danny girlies holding up after quali 😭

Australia; November 28, 2018

An open field in Australia was the solace they needed from their hectic lives as Formula 1 drivers. An open field, a picnic blanket, and a sky full of stars. It was perfect. Even if it rained, it would have been perfect for them still, because they had each other to share that moment with.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she admitted with a bashful expression. She gazed into his eyes, and everything else ceased to exist. The stars in the night sky burned for them like they burned for each other. His brown eyes bore into hers and they knew this was where they were meant to be.

And he kissed her. He cupped her jaw, one arm wrapping around her waist as he drew her close and kissed her. She had never felt more alive than when she felt his lips on hers. She smiled, content with that moment.

“I know I’m falling in love with you,” he mumbled against her lips. It was the easiest thing, falling for one another. Falling in love was easy. Working through those feelings, not so much.

Monaco; August 20, 2022

“It was never this complicated between us, Daniel,” she huffed, exhaustion heavy in her eyes as she pleaded, “Tell me how you feel! What I can do for you.”

“You can’t do anything,” he frowned, shaking his head as he hunched over the counter, unable to meet her gaze. He knew that if he gazed her way, he would only feel as though he was the biggest failure in the world. She often looked at him with such admiration, yet he questioned whether or not she would admire him the way he was at that moment, “You’ve got your pretty Red Bull seat on lock, just think about that.”

“So, that’s what all this is about? Your seat?” she questioned, shaking her head, “Daniel, your seat is safe for another season. You can think about your options if you want, but McLaren isn’t getting rid of you that easily.”

“Except they did, y/n,” his voice grew quiet as he said the words, clearly unable to accept them either, “They’re buying me out of my contract.”

She remained quiet as she heard the words. Not once in their relationship did she question whether or not she’d still drive with Daniel, yet there they were. His future in the sport was up in the air, while her seat was secure for a few more years.

“Daniel, we can fix this,” she mumbled, “We’ll talk to your manager, we’ll talk to other teams. It’ll be fine.”

“There is no ‘we’ in this, y/n!” he insisted, his voice breaking as he finally looked over at her, tears in his eyes, “It’s my seat that I lost, y/n. You don’t have to make this your problem too.”

“I don’t care!” she exclaimed, “I don’t care if you think you can go on and face this problem on your own, I won’t allow it. You can’t go through this on your own, Daniel. I’m here for you. I’m always here for you. I was here for you when you made the transfer to Renault, I was here for you when you made the transfer to McLaren, and I’m here for you now.”

“That’s not the same thing anymore, y/n,” he shook her words off. They had been through thick and thin, but they had never encountered anything like this. Not for either of their careers. With his position in Formula 1 unsure, it seemed as though even their relationship was unsure to him. He was questioning his entire future, not just in the sport, but with y/n.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Because,” he shook his head, “Because I’m jealous, y/n. You’ve had a great season, but I’ve had a shitty season. You’ve got a great career ahead of you—”

“So do you!” she scoffed, “If you think you’re done with Formula 1, I’m going to need you to reconsider those thoughts. Because you’re not. You’re not done yet in Formula 1. You’ve got fans that love you, you’ve got skill, you’ve got talent. Daniel Ricciardo, you have a future in Formula 1!”

“I find that hard to believe,” he admitted with a bittersweet smile, “I love that you believe in me like this, I do, but we have to be realistic about this, y/n. No team’s going to take me in after the season I had. “

“You’ll find a team,” she spoke reassuringly, wrapping her arms around his frame, allowing him to rest his weary head on her shoulders as he sighed.

“I think we need a break,” he blurted out, pulling away from her grasp. She tried so desperately to hold on to him, unwilling to face the reality of what he had just said.

“No, no, Danny, don’t say that, please,” she pleaded, clinging onto him tighter, “We’ll get through this.”

“y/n, I need to work through this on my own,” he insisted stubbornly as she huffed, “I can’t have my career issues distracting you from your career. I don’t want you to have to think about me.”

“Seat or not, I’m always thinking of you and your well-being,” she reminded him, “And you’re not a distraction, Daniel Ricciardo. You’re my boyfriend. It’s been that way for four years, Daniel. Do you think I’m going to walk away now?”

“It’ll be better for both of us,” he spoke as though he believed those words, that he’d made up his mind, “I’ll be able to focus solely on my career for now, and I think it’s what I need to get back in the zone.”

“So, you’re saying this is my fault?”

“I’m saying anything but that. This is my fault, y/n. That’s why I have to be the one to fix this, and I think this may be the way how,” he tried his best to convince her that it was for the better. She was unconvinced of this. Why would it be beneficial for either of them to break up?

“And this is what you want?” she croaked out.

“It’s what I need,” he stated bitterly, frowning at the way her face dropped at those words. He wished desperately to take back his words as tears began to line her eyes, “None of this is your fault, please.”

“All right,” she nodded, sniffling, “I’ll see you around the track.”

A sunny park in Monaco gave her no solace from their hectic lives as Formula 1 drivers. A damp wooden bench, the sun in her eyes like a spotlight on an actress in a tragedy. She was alone. He was alone. There was no turning back from that point.

COTA; October 20, 2022

“It’s tragic, yeah? What’s happening to Daniel?” Max questioned her almost innocently, not quite aware of what went down between the pair after the announcement that he was leaving McLaren for the next season, “How are you guys holding up.”

“We broke up,” she mumbled absentmindedly in response to her teammate, “Just before the news dropped, actually.”

“Oh,” Max’s eyes grew wide, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right. Not exactly an open thing for people, yeah?” she chuckled in an attempt to shrug it off. It stung, of course. Being reminded of the breakup between her and Daniel. They tried to make things work after, trying to remain civil, but she found that she simply could not manage it. She could not continue with the memory of what they used to share, replaced with the bitter reality of what they now were.

“What are you both gossiping about now?” Christian chimed in at the sight of both his drivers seated at black metal chairs in the garage.

“Daniel’s seat,” Max murmured, like a child who had been caught by a teacher speaking to his seatmate and disrupting a class.

“It’s a pity, what’s happening to him, yeah?” Christian muttered at the thought, having heard the news.

“Do you…know, if he has a seat yet?” she questioned sheepishly, wanting to know about Daniel’s future in Formula 1.

“Not yet, actually,” the man shook his head, “A pity. Any team would be lucky to have a driver like Daniel.”

“He’s got a fairly big fanbase as well. Pretty marketable, honestly,” she spoke strategically, “He’d be the golden boy of the team. People would love him on any team, honestly. Even if it wasn’t for a driver position.”

She could see the gears turning in Christian’s head as she dropped those words. She gave a satisfied smile as she did, knowing there was a possibility of Daniel at least having a team to fall back on in Formula 1, if not a seat.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Christian nodded, ready to pull his phone out to make a few calls. Despite their breakup, she wanted nothing more than to look out for him. Even if it meant she’d have to see him a little bit more than she would have wanted.

“Why’d you do that?” Max questioned, quirking a brow at y/n, “I can see what you were trying to do, but I thought you guys broke up.”

“We did,” she nodded, “Doesn’t mean I don’t want him to be out of F1 permanently. He can use Red Bull as an opportunity to bounce back from all the damage McLaren did to his image as a driver.”

“You’re really looking out for him, huh?” Max quirked a brow at his teammate’s response to his question, “You know, you guys were good together.”

“I know, but it’s Daniel who said he needed the break,” y/n shrugged, “Didn’t need to add to everything else he’s going through at the time, yeah? If he says it’s what he needed, then who am I to deny him that?”

“Yeah, but still, you guys were just…good for each other,” Max stated bluntly, having been there for the pair’s relationship through the years.

“It was like we were living in a dream, you know?” she smiled wistfully at the thought of her and Daniel together. That dream faded, and they awoke to the reality they lived in. That she and Daniel were no longer an item.

Monaco; November 23, 2022

Not too soon after the season ended, the announcement dropped on all of Red Bull’s social media accounts. Daniel was going to be the team’s third driver. She smiled as she scrolled to the post, smiling as she read through the positive comments, all welcoming Daniel back to Red Bull.

She left a small comment of her own. It wasn’t much. Just a heart emoji. Nothing to fuss over, and nothing to speak much of. Just a small comment letting both the general public and, perhaps, Daniel know how she felt in regards to him joining the team as a third driver.

After leaving the comment, she fought the urge to contact Daniel, congratulating him for ‘coming home’ to Red Bull. If only he could finally come home to her. To come back to her, to tell her things with them were okay, to make up with her. Still, she kept her distance. If he wanted to make up with her, he would have been the one to contact her. He would have been the one to tell her that he wanted their “break” to be over.

Who was she kidding? It had been months since they had last actually connected. It was not a break, it was a break-up. She could no longer deny it to herself. She was content watching his career progress from the sidelines if it was what he wanted.

But goddamn, did Red Bull’s colors look good on the man.

Bahrain; March 5, 2023

She finished in second place for the first race of the season, right behind her teammate. It was a great juxtaposition to where she and Max were for the first race of the previous season. She crossed the checkered flag, smiling widely.

“So, great results today,” he smiled at her, trailing her on her way back to the Red Bull garage for the race debrief. She hardly looked his way as she passed him by, “Really, I mean P2’s great. A nice double podium to start the season for you and Max.”

He kept talking and she did her best to drone him out, not even acknowledging his words with so much as a nod.

“I mean, it was amazing, seeing you in the car again. You both seemed very pleased with yourselves up on the podium. With good reason, of course. You both did amazing, but mostly you since, well, you’re the one I’m talking to. Have to do a bit of sucking up at least,” he chuckled, his face dropping as he received no response.

Was it going to be like this for the rest of the season?

Saudi Arabia; March 20, 2023

He sat in the garage, leaning over his seat anxiously as he watched the screens, constantly averting his gaze to y/n’s onboard cameras as the race progressed. He wore the happiest smile on his face when he watched her car overtake the green Aston Martin driven by Fernando Alonso himself.

“That’s my girl,” he said quietly to himself, eyes never leaving the screen.

He watched as she entered the pit lane for a pit stop, brown eyes shining under the bright lights as he was mesmerized by how she maneuvered the car, as though she and the machine shared a soul.

“You guys talk it out yet?” Christian made sure his radio was muted as he turned to Daniel, aware of the complicated situation between the drivers.

“Not really, no,” Daniel shook his head.

“From the looks of it, you better do it soon. Lest you want to keep watching her from the sidelines like a lovestruck idiot,” the team principal offered him a pat on the back like a concerned father.

“That obvious?” he questioned.

“On both sides, honestly,” Christian admitted, “You know, she’s one of the reasons why you’ve got the third driver seat. Started talking to Marko and me about how any team would love you, in any capacity.”

“Really?” he quirked an eyebrow at the older man’s words, unable to believe it. With how she had shrugged him off in Bahrain, he would have thought she wanted nothing to do with him. That she would have wanted to watch him walk away from the grid after that, though who was he kidding? He knew she wasn’t like that.

“Yeah,” Christian nodded before turning back to the monitors and watching both his drivers closely as they made their way through the track.

Daniel watched her car closely like a hawk, aware that a simple misstep on the track could have cost her the position she had in the race. Though, he knew she was not like that. She was in sync with the car that night, an absolute beast on the track. She dominated the track from start to finish, ending the race in P1.

Anyone in the garage that day could have verified that Daniel Ricciardo cheered the loudest that night as she crossed the checkered flag. He was her biggest fan, and he was not ashamed of admitting it. Still, there was no way of approaching. She wouldn’t even look his way during the podium ceremony.

She stood proudly on the top step of the podium, her hands behind her back as her country’s national anthem played. She looked down into the audience, a fair number of them cheering for her. In the wave of dark blue Red Bull kits, her eyes wandered over to him.

When she crossed the checkered flag, she wished so desperately to be able to share the moment with Daniel. To have him kiss her in celebration of the win, the same way they used to. One of the brightest moments of her season, and she still wished she could have shared the moment with him.

Even in one of the brightest moments of her career, she found herself looking for him. Still, she averted her gaze, unwilling to look his way, knowing she would have melted if she saw the way he looked up at her, that wide smile on his face.

She celebrated happily with the team as they cheered for her, chugging down the bottle of champagne with her teammate as the crowd cheered continuously.

Monaco; May 28, 2023

Monaco was a track beloved by many. Be it the sights while racing, the absolute luxury of the race, or the fact that Monaco was where a lot of the drivers lived. For drivers like y/n, it was a site of heavy nostalgia.

Before the race, she, Max, and Daniel had filmed a promotion for the team while driving remote control boats around. She tried to pretend for the camera, but she could not hide the awkwardness of the situation. Sure, they had recorded quite a bit of content together already for the team, but Monaco was different.

She and Daniel had shared many moments in Monaco, be it on the track or off the track. Like many other drivers, she had a flat in Monaco as well. She hated coming back to the flat for the season, it was littered with reminders of her relationship with Daniel. Like how she would stay over at his place, or when he would come over to hers because she didn’t want to feel alone in the flat.

And if any of that wasn’t reason enough, Monaco had been the site for their breakup.

She could no longer do that this season. She could not call him to come over, nor could she come over to his flat either.

She was stuck in her head for Monaco. That much was evident the moment she stepped in the car. It was almost as though she could not get in proper synchronization with the car while she was stuck thinking of Daniel.

She crashed out early in Qualifying. She lost control of her car almost instantly as she drove it. Because of her inability to get Daniel out of her head, she had to start dead last at one of the toughest tracks to overtake at.

To make things worse, it seemed as though nobody else had their heads screwed on straight for the Grand Prix. The first lap was complicated, with many drivers being caught up in one of the turns. She let out a frustrated groan, unwilling to accept the fact that she had to drive more laps around such a messy track.

As if the race wasn’t bad enough, the rain began to pour, testing her patience more and more. She nearly crashed into a wall too then. She ended the race in P16.

After dealing with the media, she practically stomped back to the garage, her mood as sour as the skies were gray.

“Hey, you doing okay?” he questioned, quick to approach her in his little Red Bull raincoat.

“No,” she shook her head. She hated the fact that she was so quick to admit it to him. And like word vomit, the emotions came pouring out, “I’m freezing cold, I had a terrible result with no points for the team, and I can’t get out of my head!”

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling her close to him. She couldn’t protest, wanting nothing more than to feel his warm comfort at that moment.

“Soon enough, all of the fanboys are going to start talking about how I’m too incapable of being a Red Bull driver, and if I keep this up, my career could be hanging off a thread.”

“Shh,” he mumbled against her forehead, “Don’t think about that for now, yeah? You had a bad weekend, that’s it. You’re an amazing driver, and you just got unlucky yesterday, and today.”

She hated it. She hated how his words made sense, and she hated how his attempt to comfort her was working. She hated how she found her way back into her arms just after a bad day. She hated how she relished in the feeling of his arms around her, and she hated how she wanted to come back to him after every bad day from that point on.

She couldn’t. This was going to be a one-time thing, she swore to herself.

Daniel, though. He held out hope that he could fix what they had. They weren’t broken yet.

Hungary; July 23, 2023

“And how do you feel knowing that Daniel Ricciardo got into P13 in today’s race?” one of the interviewers questioned her.

“It’s great,” she nodded, offering the interviewers a small smile, “The contact at the start of the race could have gone much worse for him, but I’m very happy things worked out the way they did, and I’m happy he’s racing again.”

“Do you have any comments on the fact that Daniel Ricciardo might be out to get your seat? You’ve been doing poorly in Qualifying sessions,” the reporter bugged her with questions not quite related to the race. She didn’t mind the idea of it one bit. She was proud of Daniel. Nothing was going to shake that, not even the thought of people wanting to have him replace her.

“If it happens, I’ll respect the team’s decision. For now, I don’t have questions on whether or not I’ll be keeping my seat. I have it now, and that’s all I’ll be worrying about,” she responded politely before the interview ended, walking back to the Red Bull garage.

“Congratulations on your podium,” a familiar voice greeted her as she entered the garage. She looked up into his honey-brown eyes, offering a sincere smile. She could not help herself. She was happy with her performance on the track, with her podium, and she was happy that Daniel did well in the car.

“Thanks,” she nodded as he held her arms open to her. She stared at him for a moment before giving in and wrapping him up in a hug. It was a familiar feeling, like a dream rediscovered, “Congratulations too, on your Alpha Tauri seat.”

“Do you think that maybe, we could talk?” he offered her a bashful expression, “I mean, you’d probably want to cool down a bit after a hot race like that one, but also, I do want to finally be able to talk to you.”

“Daniel, there’s nothing to talk about—”

“But there is. You and I both know it,” he insisted, “I’m sorry for what I did last year, I was in a terrible terrible place, but following you around for a bit with Red Bull I only missed you more.”

“Daniel—”

“I know, you’re going to say that the moment for this conversation’s long passed, but y/n, please, I want to give us a chance,” he pleaded with her, taking her hands in his, “I know what I threw away now, and it wasn’t right of me to toss you aside like that, and I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I just can’t bear having to be so close to you knowing we aren’t together anymore.”

“But, Daniel, isn’t it worse now? My seat is your end goal, things are only going to be worse for us this way,” it was the bitter reality, the fact that, as long as they were in Formula 1, they would always be each other’s competition. There was a chance either of them could lose their seat. With how complicated things were the first time around, it was a terrifying thought to consider.

“Fuck the seat,” he scoffed, “I spent months without the seat, and I realized not having a seat didn’t hurt as bad as not having you. Everything related to the track and racing, we can keep outside our relationship. We can live our personal lives separate from our professional lives. No gray area, just black and white.”

“We can’t do that. Racing is a big part of our lives.”

“Well, if your concern was really with the seat, you wouldn’t have put a good word in for me at Red Bull, no?” he pleaded, “Whatever position I’m in now, I owe it all to you, y/n. Please, what are you so afraid of?”

She could see he was growing desperate. The less she said, the more anxious he grew. His fingers tapped against the palms of her hands. She had hope for them. The way he spoke to her, was nothing but sincere. This was her Daniel speaking. The love of her life.

“I’m afraid of getting hurt again,” she admitted tearfully, “I’m afraid that the moment things become unsure for us again, you’ll leave me.”

“Oh, babe,” he muttered, wrapping her up in a tight hug, “I won’t hurt you. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together this time, yeah?”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

And though nearly a year had passed since the breakup, she still found herself hoping to be with him. And with the end of a chapter, they found a new chapter to begin.

a/n: this reminds me a lot of the chain i’m sorry 😭

F1 TAGS: @errrrrat / @ricsaigaslec / @veronicapaula / @buendiabebeta / @abditory-77 / @navia3000 (taglist open)

DR3 TAGS: @a-distantdreamer (taglist open)

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo x you #F1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #daniel ricciardo x y/n

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