#someone he'd see often enough to recognise but didn't see the need to interact with unless necessary

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Lev you can't just leave the good parts in the tags like that 😭

John deciding to blow off steam by subscribing to a cute camgirl's onlyfans account and quickly becoming the top contributor. a harmless way to relax, and spoil a pretty girl with gifts and money, the sort of thing he doesn't have time for in his personal life but craves. hungers for. pays for lingerie and toys, private shows and videos. eagerly devours any time she has to spare on him, but the more he gets to know her, the more obsessed he becomes. the more possessive. wanting. monopolizing all of her time so that she never has a minute to spare on others.

and then she sends him a birthday video. congrats on your fortieth, she whispers into the camera, wearing the ensemble he bought for her. a mould of his cock in her hands, a whim he decided to go for after she pouted at him for a few minutes about how she wanted to feel him inside of her. or a (not so) cheap imitation, anyway. it's good. so good. she's perfect. and all his for tonight.

but she makes a mistake. his kitten is so good at hiding her face, her features. keeping herself a mystery. but as she gives him the sexiest performance he's ever seen, she slips up. shows more of herself than she wants to.

wish i could say happy birthday in person, she winks at him through the cheap plastic of her mask. a fox. isn't she coy? but it's an invitation he won't turn down.

after all, it'd be rude not to give the cute little secretary that greets him every morning exactly what she asked for, wouldn't it?

[vivwritesfics]

Indian Summer

A collection of moments from their summer together. Lando and Oscar fell hard for her, but it wasn't meant to last. Summer was all they had.

I've missed Landoscar so much you guys

2.3K

F1 Masterlist

November was unseasonably warm as Lando sat in Oscar's London apartment. It happened more often than not now, the two of them reminiscing over the summer.

More often than not it ended with the two of them in tears. It had been an amazing summer, the best of their lives. But it was over, and nothing would ever be the same again. They both accepted it as they clinked their beers together and looked through the pictures.

She was in most of them.

Oscar had met her first. It was the Spanish Grand Prix and she was clearly lost. She marched in front of the McLaren garage several times, going back and forth, searching for where she was supposed to be.

Some of the mechanics noticed her, but they didn't do anything. Oscar saw her out of the corner of his eye. He thought nothing of it at first, went back to his conversation with his engineer.

He noticed when she walked past again. And then again. And then for a third time. That was when Oscar knew he had to do something about it. He, a rookie, plucked up the courage and walked over to her. He tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around, her brows furrowed.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

She nodded her head. "Just trying to find my way," she answered, glancing down at the map on her phone.

Oscar looked at her phone, at where she was trying to get to. He knew just enough to point her in the right direction. Her grin was wide as she started off in that direction, thanking him as she went. That was when Oscar realised that she had no idea who he was.

He couldn't get her out of his head for the rest of the Grand Prix. He didn't tell Lando about this interaction, he had no need to. She was his little secret, something just for him.

There wasn't a picture of that moment in either of their phones. It wasn't something he'd ever forget; he didn't need a picture.

Her first interaction with Lando was only slightly different.

It was the Austrian Grand Prix, a week after she'd met Oscar. This time she managed to find away, but she still took a slow stroll past the McLaren garage, hoping to see the man that had helped her this time.

No, she didn't know it was the Oscar Piastri, didn't realise the young McLaren Rookie had been the one to help her. She just knew it was a handsome young man in orange.

She didn't see him. There were too many people in orange to decipher which one was him.

But she did recognise Lando Norris, and he was staring straight at her, grin on his face.

Holy fuck, when Lando Norris looks at you, its a different experience. It wasn't even like he was giving her a small glance. He was straight up staring at her. She couldn't look away from him - his blue eyed stare was somewhat intoxicating.

It was almost like déjà vu when he walked over to her. Suddenly she was thinking about the man that had helped her at the Spanish Grand Prix. "Are you okay?" He asked, much in the same way Oscar had the week before.

She nodded her head. "Just looking for someone," she said, keeping her cool. Lando Norris was talking to her and she was managing to keep her cool. It was a day she was going to celebrate. "Good luck out there," she said and walked away before she could make a fool of herself in front of one of the drivers.

Lando strode back into the garage as she walked away. He wore a smug smirk as he walked back over to Oscar. "I've just met a really pretty girl," he said.

That night she and the friends she went to the Grand Prix with decided to go to the club. They got to the club early and it was empty, empty enough to easily get a drink.

The drivers were in the club hours later. Lando dragged Oscar with his for this one and only time. And Oscar agreed, just to get him to leave him alone.

Oscar spotted her first. He strode over and tapped her on the shoulder. "Are you okay?" He asked, a smile playing on his lips.

But she couldn't hear him over the music. "McLaren Guy!" She shouted and wrapped her arms around him.

"Are you stalking me?" He asked, his tone teasing.

"You know it!" She shouted back.

They started dancing together, bodies grinding together. She had her arms wrapped around his thick neck and his hands were on her waist as they moved. Her fingers were moving through his hair as he kissed her.

Lando was too wrapped up in having fun with Carlos to notice Oscar. But he eventually disappeared, either going off for more drinks or to go to the bathroom.

He spotted her dancing alone. Lando couldn't stop himself from walking over. "Hey," he said after he had recognised her. "You're the girl from the Grand prix, right?"

She held her hand out towards him. "I'm Y/N," she said into his ear.

Lando started dancing with her. He couldn't help himself, she was gorgeous. The way her body moved against his had him throwing his head back. That was before he leaned down to kiss her, his hands gripping her ass.

Oscar must have seen it. He was looked around for her, only to spot her dancing with his teammate. He couldn't be mad - she was just some girl in the club. Oscar had no claim to her.

She left the club that night with Lando's phone number. Of course, she didn't expect him to text her, but he did, making sure she got home okay. It was incredibly sweet of him.

There were pictures in Lando's phone from that night. They were blurry and they could just about make out her pretty face. At first, Oscar didn't want to remember that night. But the pictures of her in that dress had him changing his mind.

The next time they saw her was the British Grand Prix, just a week later. She was there as Lando's guest, meant to be watching the Grand Prix from the back of the garage.

It was his home race, a special one. She was obviously following the Formula One around the world anyway; Lando couldn't stop himself from inviting her along for this one. His parents were going to be there too, watching with her in the back of the garage.

That was when she saw Oscar in his race suit for the first time. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my God, McLaren guy," she said upon seeing him. "You're Oscar Piastri? The other driver?" She squeaked.

"You didn't know?" He replied, clearly surprised. e

"No! I thought you were just... some guy!"

Just some guy, that was why he made out with her teammate.

She may have been there as Lando's guest, but that wasn't going to stop her from flirting with Oscar. She liked two guys, was that really a crime?

Lando was on the Podium and Oscar was nearly on the podium. They had to celebrate, and they had to take her with them. Once again they dragged Oscar out for drinks, but she barely touched the alcohol.

By the end of the night she was kissing the both of them. Lando first, his hands on her waist. Oscar didn't see it as he stole her breath and let his tongue explore her mouth.

When Lando went elsewhere, Oscar got his kiss. It was a lot more dominating, and she couldn't get enough. His hands were holding the back of her head, holding her close as he kissed her.

Later, Lando would blame this on the alcohol, but when he saw Oscar kissing her, he walked up behind her and began kissing down her neck. Oscar spotted him, but he didn't pull away. Especially when she began making those little noises.

They had just one picture from that night. She'd taken Lando's phone from her pocket and snapped a picture of the three of them, Lando and Oscar holding her between them. It would become a favourite picture for the boys, one they visited often when they spoke about it.

She went to the next two Grand Prix with them, watched from the back of the garage as Lando and Oscar raced. After races they'd head back to one of their hotel rooms, the three of them sharing the same bed.

In the privacy of their hotel room, Lando snapped pictures of them. His favourite was one of Oscar behind her, his arms wrapped around her chest, keeping things private as he kissed down her neck. The picture was still intimate, though.

The three of them wouldn't just hide away in their hotel room. On the rare instance that they were feeling brave, the three of them would go out for dinner. She'd insist on getting a picture.

But, most of the time they wouldn't. They'd hide away and eat a post-race pizza. They had pictures of that, too. The three of them smiling with pizza in their mouths. These were Oscars favourite pictures; the ones of the three of them together like this, having fun, being soft.

Lando's usual summer break was usually full of golf. He was still going to golf, but he had bigger priorities now. His priorities were her and Oscar.

It was his idea to go to Australia. Oscar was over the moon to be taking them to his home. He drew up an itinerary of all the places he wanted to take them, all the things he wanted them to do.

Lando got them to play golf. He taught them both, had his arms wrapped around the both of them as he taught them how to swing. Those were his favourite days in Australia.

They did a lot of exploring. Those were her favourite days, to explore Oscar's home. He loved it to, loved to see her eyes light up with curiosity as she led them along an unknown path. Both Oscar and Lando had pictures of that. Of her in her shorts and bikini top, backpack on her bag as she led the way.

They were in Australia, but Oscar didn't want them to meet his parents. Not yet, he wasn't ready for that. But one day they would, he was sure of it. These were the people he could see his future with.

Australia wasn't all they did over summer break.

They went on holiday, flew to Spain and stayed in a private villa. The two requirements they had for the villa was privacy, and a big enough bed for the three of them. Nights laying together, tangled in the sheets, sweat covering their bodies and breathless, were like no other.

It was amazing.

"We'll go skiing together in the winter," Lando whispered as he kissed her shoulder in the early hours of the morning. She was wearing one of Oscar's shirts and a pair of pyjama shorts as she leaned over the balcony, looking at the view.

Lando stood behind her, his arms wrapped around her, her back pressed against his warm, bare chest. She could feel his cool necklace through the shirt. "I'd like that," she whispered, shutting her eyes as she leaned against him.

Oscar brought her coffee. None for Lando, he didn't like coffee. The three of them sat on the balcony together, leaning against each other as they looked at the view.

These were the best days of their lives.

They had so many pictures to commemorate summer break. Pictures of her in the pool, pictures of her sat with Lando on a sun lounger, pictures of her and Oscar holding each other on the balcony. She was in every single picture.

But summer break came and went. In late August racing resumed. Maybe the McLaren drivers were being foolish when they thought she'd come with them, that she'd follow them across the world. She'd done it before, what was stopping her from doing it now?

Suddenly, she wasn't at the Grand Prix with them. Suddenly, she wasn't answering texts or calls. Lando and Oscar both thought the worst. What if something had happened to her? Neither of them could stop their thoughts from racing, their hearts from breaking.

After a month of radio silence, she finally answered their group chat messages. For that entire month, she hadn't so much as looked at their messages (and they'd been checking). September was colder than either of them had expected.

The text was vague. So fucking vague. I can't do this anymore, she sent and left their group chat.

They didn't know what they'd done to cause this, to drive her away. They didn't know what they could have done to make her stay. But there wasn't anything they could have done. This was inevitable. It was always going to happen.

She was always going to leave them. Dating two high profile drivers wasn't something she could handle. They'd always have summer, though, she told herself as she sent that text.

That summer had changed everything for Lando and Oscar. With her gone, all they had was each other and the pictures. The pictures of her. They couldn't stop themselves from going through the folders, reminiscing on a better time.

At least one of them would end up crying, but the beer definitely didn't help.

Soon the boys realised it was nothing more than a fling, but it was a fling they'd never forget. She'd be a fling they'd never forget, and they would never stop searching for her.

[aureatesvn]

Economy//Jaebeom

Content: humour, fluff(?) if you squint

Model!Jaebeom has never been so confused.

Or,

An avid display of the frustrations of the rich (and supposedly famous).

People came and went like clockwork, each individual blurring into a mass flow of luggage and sweatpants and crying children, lord save him from the crying children. The airport was just a disaster waiting to happen, but he found an awkward kind of comfort in the timeless feel of the place. It was the same routine every time, arrive a few hours early, pass through security, don his trusty bucket hat and find somewhere to wait. With a book, preferably. This time was no different, aside from the… minor intrusion.

It had been less than an hour since he'd made himself comfortable in his isolated corner of the seating area, it was a nice spot and he was quite proud of himself for finding it, to be honest. He'd scoured almost a quarter of the airport (the quarter he was confined to), and it had taken exactly 38 minutes, but he'd eventually gravitated towards the large windows where the morning sunlight was streaming in from. A few moments later, he'd snagged the perfect spot. It was sort of a treasure-hunt type game to him, and he'd undeniable succeeded.

Unfortunately now he was feeling dozy, the warmth of the sun warming him, and the ebbing of people passing by allowing him some peace. It was the perfect setting for a nap, and he'd all but given up on trying to focus on his book. He needed a cold drink, which meant he had to go find a cold drink… He surveyed the area for any nearby cafés or bars, and was left with a single option he could make out if he squinted into the distance, that's where he'd have to go then. 

With a resigned sigh, he started collecting his things, unwilling to part with his spot, when a brilliant idea struck him. Possibly the best idea he'd had in his entire life, really. 

He returned the things to their original places, jacket across the back of the chair, bag (which he'd taken his phone and wallet out of) planted decisively on the seat. He considered leaving his hat as well, but eventually decided that was a step too far, and stepped back to assess his work. 

Well, the seat was indisputably taken, and anyone who would argue otherwise was either blind (in which case he'd happily offer up the seat anyway), or specifically looking to cause trouble. He possibly could have worried a bit more about theft and such, but as it was, he took it as a test of the upstanding airport security and didn't think much more of it. 

Happy with his spot secured, he smiled to himself and ambled his way to the café, peering back every so often to check no one was getting too close to his place. He had one or two stares at how he was forced to angle his head in a rather ostrich-esque way, but it was most definitely worth it. Eventually he was too far away to see, and focused on getting his drink and getting back as soon as possible. 

He was halfway back with his lime soda when he saw it. Actually, he'd seen it a bit before then, but had been in denial about the rather horrible turn of events, and so hadn't quite believed his eyes. He most definitely believed them now. As he drew closer, the scene he was nearing didn't get any less horrifying. In fact, when he was close enough to feel the need to cautiously side-step his way to his belongings, it was decidedly more awful than he'd anticipated from a distance. 

There was someone right there. 

Not on his chair, his things were still perfectly in place, untouched, but at the uncomfortably close distance of the very-next-seat along, there was a person. And all their things. 

He stood over his seat, trying to process the events that led up to this, not quite fully understanding how the obviously taken seat hadn't deterred this female (he thought she was female, at least) from making herself at home in the 2 seat radius surrounding the chair. Least of all, what had prompted her to sit right next- 

'Is there a problem?'

Yes yes yes yes yes absolutely, please leave.

'Sorry?' was all he could choke out.

She was looking up at him, but somehow managed to be looking down her nose, and he had enough sense in him to recognise she felt rich. Or maybe it was her small(ish) collection of branded items. Fendi? Jackson would have a field day. 

'I asked if there was a problem? I don't appreciate being ogled at.'

He was at a loss for words, he hadn't expected her to be so… brusque. Usually strangers at the airport interacted with a stilted politeness, lots of half-bows, please and thank yous, maybe she didn't get the memo? Taking a sip of his lime soda, he noted that Saint Laurent was also present within her collection. How ironic. 

'Ah, no, I wasn't looking at you, these' he gestures to his bag, 'are my belongings…'

He's not quite sure what he was expecting, but whatever it was, it absolutely wasn't for her to look possibly more offended than she had been before he'd spoken. Maybe she'll move if I upset her enough? 

As he half heartedly checks himself for thinking such a thing, she swivels her head back and forth between him and his things, the sunlight glinting off of her hair.

'They're,' she points at his seat, 'yours?'           

She points at him, disbelief written across her face. They stay like that in silence for a few moments, at an impasse.

He coughs awkwardly and takes another sip.

'Yes…?' 

At this point he's thinking it maybe wasn't worth it, and it would be easier for him to just find a different spot, without the oddly confrontational scenery.

'Are you sure?'

He chokes on his lime soda. Through spluttering and coughing and the highly unpleasant burning (fizzing) at the back of his throat, he resolutely decides he's not letting her chase him away from his spot. He got there first anyway. 

Fighting mindset truly in place, he sets her with a condescending smile, and drawls out his question like he would to address a rather irritating child.

'You don't believe that the bag and jacket that I put on that chair, walked over to collect, and said were mine are… mine?'

He sees the realisation dawn on her, and fights the urge to laugh (not because he wanted to be polite, but because his throat was still tingling and he was sure he'd end up coughing again if he laughed at her). She pouts and waves a manicured hand between them, shaking her head.

'No, no, it's just people travelling... economy… tend to…y'know...have...' 

People travelling eco- What?

He blinks at her, once again unsure what to say. 

'WAIT- Not- Not that economy is a bad thing or anything, that's not what I meant-'

A part of him is relieved that there are obviously people out there who are far worse than him at meeting strangers. The other part of him is bitter that he had to meet one of them. He's certain the ice in his soda has melted at this point, and curses her for (if nothing else) leaving him with a diluted room-temperature drink.

'Look, I'll just take my things and-' he spots a relatively empty block across the seating area from them, and gestures to make sure she sees. She blinks up at him owlishly, as if waiting for him to go, and he sighs tiredly. The polite thing to do is to offer to move instead. 

After approximately 15 seconds, he gives up, collects his jacket and bag, and trundles over to the less sunny, less quiet, and overall less comfortable seating block. 

He spends the next two hours trying to lose himself in his book, checking the flight status and complaining to the guys about the awful encounter.

At roughly 11:45 he finally hears the boarding announcement,

Flight KE418 to Seoul will be boarding shortly, please proceed to gate 117.

And by some sheer luck, he finds himself at the very front of the queue when the man at the desk starts checking passports and boarding passes. 

He practically skips his way down the corridor to the plane, buzzing with excitement. He's almost home. The flight attendant smiles at him, checks his pass and escorts him to an aisle seat, and when he takes off his hat to push back his hair, there's a barely noticeable twitch of her lip to show that she recognises him before she disappears to attend to another passenger. 

He sinks into his seat, browsing movie options on the monitor, and is just about to put headphones on when he hears it.

'Oh, thank you, sorry, this seat? Thanks…'

That voice did not go with that meek tone at all. 

He looks up to see her nervously shuffling down the right-hand aisle, and slowing down when the attendant does, one seat ahead. Please no, let me have my flight in peace, lord if you have any mercy…

'This is seat 04, if you have further requirements or any issues, just let us know.'

As it turns out, the lord didn't have any mercy free today. 

He takes in her slight frame over the divider, made to look smaller by her hunched shoulders and clasped hands, before realising she's not yet sat down because she's been staring at him. Great, now all he had to do was figure out if she recognised him because she'd chased him away earlier, or because she'd seen his face in a magazine. Or both. 

He decides to take initiative, and smile politely at her, bowing his head. She's already slowly turning a deep pink and, somewhere in the back of his head, he thinks she's quite cute when she's flustered. 

With that thought, he decides he's in a good enough mood to tease her, and acknowledges that there's no way she won't have recognised his clothes (if not his face) from earlier.

'So, economy huh?'