#the drivers as we read about them in fic are NOT the same as the drivers who are real people irl
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i think that many people in this fandom should go outside and touch grass for a moment, and try to remember that the drivers irl are not the same as the characters that we use for rpf fics.
"omg but i loved the characterisation of X in Y fic soooo much" that's great... but that characterisation is still not a reflection of who X is irl.
for example. "i can't believe charles said that, why would he say that? it's not who he is :/" girl. maybe that's not who he is in fic, and he probably wouldn't say that in your 21k charlos slowburn fest, but in real life, where he is a real person, he most absolutely can and did in fact say that.
just. it's fine to make the drivers say and do whatever the flying fuck you want in fic, but it's SO important to keep that line between reality and fiction firmly in mind.
#f1 rpf#rant#the things i have seen on my morning scroll.... you would not BELIEVE some of it tbh#i have genuinely seen some [redacted] girlies crying bcs charles said smth which didn't align with how they saw him for their ship#which....#i don't know how to tell this to you but... your ship is not real#*charles wtf discord react*#anyways. i know a multitude of people have said this in a multitude of ways before#but still... it remains so true#the drivers as we read about them in fic are NOT the same as the drivers who are real people irl#not in any way shape or form#and if you're delusional about that then i... don't know what to tell you except GO THE FUCK OUTSIDE & TOUCH SOME GRASS#wake up!!!#rpf is fine... but ONLY so long as we are all sane about that reality-fiction line. PLEASE.
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we used to have more | oscar piastri
part 2 part 3 part 4
pairing: oscar piastri x reader
summary: while working as community manager in formula 1 you have to follow a rule of no fraternization with the drivers, which keeps you and oscar from being together
fc: different girls from pinterest
warnings: some characters have names (because thereâs only so many y/f/n that i can use), some mentions of oscarâs girlfriend as her ex
a/n: so i have this one shot called guilty as sin? (that you should totally go read) and iâve been thinking about expanding on it a little because i keep getting ideas around the same concept so welcome to an au version of my own fic in smau format, enjoy!
â
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yourusername another season, another year of trying to make f1 fun for the girliesđ
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lissiemackintosh do you just casually serve face like this on a random thursday?
yourusername occupational hazards đ
username my girl is back !!!
username sheâs so classy i love her
username i need the girlies that find her clothes to find everything in this dump asap!
username my icon
username y/n please stay in f1 forever thank youâ€ïżœïżœ
username oh to be a woman in f1
username FINALLY
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f1gossip mclarenâs oscar piastri was seen this weekend next to y/n y/l/n (the community manager of f1 social media) on different occasions. the people who sent us the videos said that oscar was the one that looked for her and approached her every time
tagged oscarpiastri and yourusername
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username yeah no
username pls lord let this be fake news
username he. approached. her. every. time.
username idk they look kinda cute together
username hoping and praying this was just for content or something
username nooo y/n is one of the f1 female icons, dating a driver would be such a setback for her đ©
username pls if she wants to date a driver then itâs her business, doesnât take away everything sheâs done for women in motorsports
username i love y/n and oscar separately, together âŠ. uhmmm
username omg my faves!!! i hope they date theyâd be so cute together đ„°
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oscarpiastri back to my roots in baku đ
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username good luck this year đ§żđ§żđ§ż
username manifesting a championship as we speak đŻ
username ugh look at him i just KNOW a future F1 champion when i see it
username omg the ex girlfriend liked đ«Ł
username are we about to see episode 37283 of them getting back together after breaking up? đ
username he looks so cute in that go-kartđ„ș
username letâs go oscar đŸđŸđŸ
landonorris đđœđđœđđœ
oscarpiastri đ
username nonchalant king!
lissiemackintoshâs instagram stories
[caption 1: milesbaldwin, declanmurray] [caption 2: yourusername my đ]
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yourusername always hustling as you can see đ§đœââïž
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username so beautiful đ€©
username the outfitttt >>>
username my fashion icon fr
milesbaldwin working hard or hardly working? đ§
yourusername youâre one to talk
milesbaldwin iâm being attacked here pls defend my honor declanmurray miguelsossa
lissiemackintosh y/n is right miles you took two naps in one hour while we were making content
milesbaldwin !!! declanmurray miguelsossa
declanmurray girls be nice to miles
milesbaldwin đ
declanmurray itâs past his bedtime
miguelsossa đ€Łđ«”đœ milesbaldwin
username i love their friendshipđ©
username wtf oscarâs ex liked her post and unliked it đ
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f1gossip mclarenâs oscar piastri was seen this weekend with his ex girlfriend at the paddock together, emerging rumors of possibly getting back together after six months of breaking up
tagged oscarpiastri and exgirlfriend
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username not again
username does this man doesnât know thereâs other women alive?
username guys leave him alone heâs competing for the trophy of who can get back with their ex the most times
username but ⊠but ⊠y/n âŠ.
username i thought they were together too đ©
username i honestly prefer him with y/n than back with his ex for the millionth time
username guys theyâre holding hands⊠itâs over
username my guy really lost the game of getting over your ex
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fluff#f1 x reader#f1#formula one#formula one x reader#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fanfic#op81#smau#oscar piastri smau#f1 smau#formula 1 smau#social media au#5 seconds of summer#we used to have more
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secrets we keep (pt1) â mv1
max verstappen x perez!fem reader
genre: one night stand, teammates sister, pregnancy
cw: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (male receiving), p in v, slight spit play, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy, pls let me know if i am forgetting anything
word count: 3.1k
song: too sweet - hozier
sidenote: hi everyone! finally a new fic is here and it's a max one! this is going to be a two parter, so keep an eye out for the next one! please let me know if y'all have any ideas or requests for a fic (I write for all drivers), also not beta read. hope you all enjoy <3
ïżœïżœïżœâĄâĄâĄ
The roars of the crowd were loud as Max crossed the finish line, followed closely by Sergio. For a second there you had thought your brother would overtake the world champion, but nonetheless he fought hard and gave the team what they wanted, a 1-2 finish.Â
It wasnât often you got to go to your brother's races, maybe only a handful a year but you were lucky to be able to get the time off to join your niece and nephews for the Japanese Grand Prix. Sergio would topple over if he knew you had the hots for his teammate. Every time you have met with Max, itâs been very cordial. Polite hellos, asking how life in Mexico is, what you have been up to since he last saw you.Â
A part of you wondered why he was so timid with you. Was it because of Sergio? Being the baby of the family left him feeling protective of you, but you donât think that would affect how Max interacted with you. I mean you barely saw him.Â
Watching the pair on the podium set tears in your eyes. You were extremely proud of your big brother and his teammate.Â
Your dad absolutely adored max and had invited him to join us for a celebratory dinner after the race. Which to your surprise he happily accepted.Â
You were staying at the same hotel that both the bulls were at, so reconnecting for dinner would not be difficult. After the race you decided to head back to freshen up and change your clothes into something a little more fancy. At the race you were wearing a white tennis skirt with a red bull polo tucked in. For dinner you decided to wear a black over the shoulder dress that fit you perfectly. Finally ready you walk down and see that only Max is waiting in the lobby. Your stomach turns at the thought of being alone with him.
Picking his head up from looking down at his phone he notices you walking toward him and waves shyly. âHi y/n, looks like itâs only us readyâ he said in a tiny voice. You are always so used to him being outspoken it kinda scares you a little. âhi maxie, you know how my family is with time management, they should be down here soonâ you said with a laugh, not even acknowledging the nickname that slipped from your mouth.Â
A sudden tinge of pink washes over Maxâs cheeks and you feel heat radiating up your neck. Act cool, you keep telling yourself but you are so nervous. Max was all you ever wanted in a guy. Handsome, sweet, confident, the list could go on. You knew deep down though your worlds would never clash well. You lived in Mexico with your parents - working as a teacher. Max lived in Monaco and raced for one of the best teams in formula one history, surrounded by models throwing themselves at him. You couldnât blame them, you would do the same, if you thought you ever had a chance.Â
âNo worries, I always have to wait for Checo to come to our team meetingsâ he laughed. âI bet, if thereâs one thing my brother isnât know for itâs being on time, thank you for coming to dinner with us though, we really appreciate it, I know my dad and brother do a lotâ
With a smirk on his face something shifts âoh just your dad and brother, not you?â. You feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, just as you are about to open your mouth to respond, tiny roars make notice in the room and you almost fall at your nephew running to you, so you could pick him up. Silently you thank your nephew for the interruption.Â
Dinner goes smoothly. You sat at the opposite end of the table with the kids, while your brother, dad, and max were deep in conversation. You swore that Max kept looking at you though, sneaking glances.Â
As the check gets situated, all of you make your way out onto the busy streets of Japan. You hear your brother speak up âY/N are you gonna come get ice cream with usâ and while you were deeply contemplating it, you decided to pass up the offer and head back to the hotel.Â
âNo I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel and pack, I want to take the kids to get breakfast tomorrow morning before we leaveâ you say.
âno puedes caminar solo es tarde en la nocheâ (you can't walk alone, it's late at night) your brother worries.Â
âSergio, I'm fine, it's not that far from the hotel, I'll grab a taxiâ before he could protest, Max jumped in.
âI can take a taxi back with y/n, I'm super tired after the race, and I'll make sure she makes it to her hotel roomâÂ
âAre you sure Max?â Sergio asks.
âYes I'm sure, it was a lovely evening, thank you for inviting meâÂ
Your family bids their farewells and walks away, leaving just the two of you waiting for a taxi. As you guys are picked up, you both don't say a word in the car, sitting in an uncomfortable silence. Max pays the driver and you thank him quietly. Making your way up to the floor where both of your rooms are, you stop at his first. âThank you for bringing me back Max, I appreciate itâÂ
âOf course it's no problem, hey I'm actually not really that tired, do you wanna play Fifa or watch a movie?â he asks. Something deep down is telling you to decline. Spending time with him is just going to dig you deeper in a hole with how you feel about him, nonetheless, you can't let this opportunity go and accept this offer.Â
Walking in you notice the room is ten times bigger than yours, with a balcony and jacuzzi tub in the middle of the bathroom. Max must notice your awe because he says âI don't know why they give us such big rooms, we are hardly ever even in hereâ
âHaha it's nice for Checo because the kids get to play aroundâÂ
âYou are really close with them, aren't you?â
âThey are practically my own, when their mom is out doing business I usually keep them, I also help homeschool themâÂ
âWell that's very sweet of youâ he says while taking a seat on the bed, while motioning you to do the same.
âDo you want something to drinkâ he offers
âNo I'm okayâ you politely decline. You still can't believe this, you are in Max Verstappen's room all alone.Â
âOkay let's put on a movie! What are you up for, should we do actionâ you sense a sudden shift in his mood, you can't quite place it, maybe excitement. You believe he can probably sense that you are nervous. The mention of action makes your ears perk up.âCan we please watch fast and the furious, I am on a mission to have all my friends watch itâ
Max doesn't protest, just laughs quietly and nods, setting the movie in place. You make yourself comfortable and take off your big hoop earrings and heels- even though they werent big by any means they still hurt you. Once you are back in bed with him, you notice him looking at you.
âIs there something on my face?â You laugh
âNo i just guess I never noticed how different but similar you look from checoâ
âReally? How so?â You question
âWell for one, you are very pretty, but you have the same freckles that Checo does covering your cheeks and noseâ Maxâs comment has you feeling shy, you know you must be sporting a prominent blush across your face and neck.Â
âwell thank you Max, it's funny because growing up, i never had freckles, but i think being out in the sun for races and the kids karting tournaments have really brought them to surfaceâÂ
âThat's interesting, I admire how close to your family you are, something I wish I hadâ he says so quietly you almost miss it. You don't know what possesses you to do this but you place your hand over his and say âyou are always welcome in this family max, we all love you, and no matter where sergio goes next year- you will always be welcomed with open armsâÂ
He stares at you with a blank face- unable to tell what he's thinking you begin to think that was the wrong thing to say when suddenly he leans down a plants a gentle kiss over your lips. You gasp at the touch. Max pulls back with wide eyes and says âshit I shouldn't have done that, Checo will kill me if he found outâ. Instead of agreeing with him, you keep your hand held tightly over his and whisper âhe doesn't have to knowâ. That's all it seems to take for max to lean back in and start kissing you.Â
You grab the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric in your hands. His palm cups your jaw, slowly deepening the kiss. Once his tongue makes his way in, you let out a quiet moan.Â
Grabbing your hips, Max shifts your position so that you are laying on the bed while he towers over you. âYou are so pretty y/n, been wanting to do this foreverâ he says while tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. While you want to pour your heart out, your nerves stop you and all you can do is nod and say âwant you so bad maxâ.Â
He continues to kiss you, tracing his mouth up and down your neck and along the junction between your shoulder and neck placing feather-like kisses. Thereâs nothing more that you want then for him to leave a big bruise plastered for everyone to see but you knew that wasnât possible.Â
You grab his head and place your lips back on his. Moving his hand to your hair he grips it tightly, keeping you in his control. Slowly he rocks his hips down to meet yours, creating a union of moans to spill from the both of you. This must be the breaking point for max because he stops to take off his shirt and grabs your dress to do the same. Not before asking âis this okayâ.Â
âOf course itâs okay, I want all of youâ you whisper out. His pants also come off in the process. Both of you left in your underwear. You could feel yourself soaked through your panties. Max moves his hand so that his thumb is slowly running along your slit through the fabric. A moan is pushed out of you with a quiet plea of more.Â
Growing impatient you tug the straps of your bra down your shoulders exposing your breasts to him. This catches his attention because Max is on them immediately. Sucking and kissing them, basically worshiping them. âFuck, these tits are perfect. They were practically popping out of your dress earlier, wanted to take you to the bathroom at the restaurant and just suck on them for hoursâÂ
You would have never guessed Max to be into dirty talk but itâs a pleasant surprise. âI want you in me Max, please, Iâve been waiting for thisâÂ
âHow can I deny such a pretty girl? '' With that being said, Max gets up and walks to his bag to pull out what seems to be a condom. While heâs doing that, you shimmy your underwear down your legs and throw it somewhere in the room. Before he approaches the bed, Max takes his underwear off and you see his cock spring free. Your mouth instantly waters at the sight. Heâs big, just like you thought he would be. Pale and veiny. Pink and wet at the tip.
You wanted him in you but not before you got a taste of him. You motion him up towards your mouth, so that his legs are on both sides of your shoulders. âI want to taste you, can I Max?â You said hoping your voice and eyes truly show the desire you have burning for him.Â
âGo ahead sweetie, suck me offâ
Thatâs all you needed to hear before taking the tip in your mouth, lightly sucking. Max groans at the sensation and places a hand behind your head for support. Popping yourself off the tip, you lick a long strip under his shaft, following the prominent vein that lies there. You place feather-like kisses on the head hoping to tease him. As you look up at him, you see his mouth slightly agape, eyes stuck on you. âDon't tease me baby, c'monâ.
You start to bob your head, up and down, making sure you move your tongue back and forth. You palm at his balls and hear a hiss, thinking he must be sensitive.Â
âFuck, you suck me off so good, this mouth was made for me, wasn't it y/nâÂ
You whimper at the words and try to push yourself further down his cock. Grabbing your head, he pulls you off and says âI need to get in youâ.Â
You nod your head fast and practically beg âplease Max, please want you in meâ.
As he positioned himself between your legs, he's looking directly at your core, you start to feel a bit insecure and try to close your legs, but he uses both his to keep them open. âYou have such a pretty pussy, want to absolutely devour itâ what he does next has you almost combust. He hovers his mouth over your core and lets a string of spit come done to coat you. Taking his index and middle finger he holds you open and lets another drop of spit fall on you. You are moaning so loud, you place your hand over your mouth to try and keep yourself quiet.Â
Max places two fingers in you while simultaneously rubbing slow circles over your clit. You are desperate for him to get in you. âMax I'm good, you can get in meâ.
That's all he needs to hear before he puts his condom on and sinks into you. The burn is unlike anything you have felt before. You were definitely not used to his size but the stretch was addicting. As he builds up pace, you place your hands over his back, your fingernails gripping onto his shoulders, it feels so so good. âFasterâ you whisper. Max listens. You could already feel the coil in your stomach about to snap, what pushes you over the edge is Maxâs dirty talk. âYou wrap around me so good, best pussy I've ever had, what would people think if they saw my roommate's sister coming all over my cockâ you can't respond, all you can do is moan.
Finally catching your breath you say âyou feel so good Max, you are gonna make me cumâ and you tuck your head into his neck licking a fat stripe near his Adams apple. âI'm gonna come too, come with me y/nâ.
The next couple of minutes go by in a blur, you feel yourself clenching on his cock, cumming while he pumps in and out of you with his hand rubbing at your clit. He kisses you hard as he groans into your mouth. âFuck that was goodâ he states and all you can do is nod.Â
Max takes off his condom, and goes to the bathroom, returning in his underwear, with a warm washcloth. You feel embarrassed but you let him clean you up. You are left undressed so you ask if he could hand you your dress. The room is filled with an awkward tension. Max can tell because he lays down on the bed and pats it for you to lay with him.Â
You feel like you should decline and be on your way, not wanting to overstay your welcome. But you genuinely don't think this will ever happen again and want to cherish what little time you have in the same proximity. You lay with your head on his chest and his arm thrown over you with the tv playing in the background. Time passes quickly and within 30 minutes you hear soft snores coming out of max. You take this as your cue to leave. You slip yourself away and gather your belongings. Taking one last glance at him you smile and quietly make your way out of the room.Â
You don't have a lot of time to reflect once you get back to your room because you have to shower, and pack for your flight in the morning. You don't know if you and Max will ever reconnect like that, but you are grateful for the time you shared.Â
You don't see or hear from Max before you leave Japan, but maybe it's for the best. Your brother didn't expect anything and you are determined to keep it that way.Â
The first couple of weeks back in Mexico were rough, slowly recovering from your trip. Around 6 weeks after being home and two more grand prix taking place, you feel sick, like a stomach bug has really knocked you down. It was so bad that you weren't able to go to the Miami gp like you wanted.Â
Deciding it has been lingering for far too long you decide to go to the doctor. The first thing they ask you is if it's possible if you are pregnant. Your first thought is no, but you remember you and Max had hooked up around two months ago. You feel a pit in your stomach and your heart rate speeds up. You couldn't be right, he wore a condom, and you hadn't had sex for like a year prior to that.Â
After you take your pee test, you have never been more scared or felt more alone. You want your mom here. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came in with a smile and sat down. âCongratulations y/n you are pregnantâ. The world came to a stand still and all you can do is cry.Â
Because how in the hell are you going to tell your brother you are pregnant with his teammate's baby. How are you going to tell Max that you are pregnant?Â
Simple. You won't.Â
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 smut#f1 x reader#f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x you#checo perez#sergio perez#Perez!reader#Max Verstappen fanfic#max verstappen smut#max verstappen x perez!fem reader#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#max verstappen x y/n#mv1 x y/n
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we need a fic about carlosâ win and piastri sistersâ reaction to it
THE LITTLE BITCH WON đ„ș ahhh im so happy for carlos, i had to write this ! i hope yo like thisss
READ LITTLE BITCH HERE
The Mexico City sunrise painted the sky as you and Carlos made your way to the track. He'd been unusually quiet during breakfast, that focused energy already building.
"Nervous?" you asked, squeezing his hand as your driver navigated through the early morning traffic.
"No," he said automatically, then caught your knowing look. "Maybe a little. Starting from pole here⊠the run to Turn 1 is so long."
"You've got this," you brought his hand to your lips.
"Max will be aggressive-"
"And you'll handle it," you cut him off. "Like the little bitch you are."
That broke his tension, making him laugh. "How do you always do that?"
"Do what?"
"Make me feel better by insulting me."
"It's a gift," you grinned. "Now stop overthinking and kiss me before we get to the track and you go all serious racing driver on me."
He obliged, one hand tangling in your hair as he pulled you close. The kiss was deep and slow, full of everything he wasn't saying.
When you pulled back, his brown eyes locked into yours, a soft edge on them that made you melt.
It was hard to think that those same eyes glared you across the paddock once and now you were about to complete five months of being his girlfriend.
When you arrived at Ferrari, Reyes and Carlos Sr. were already there. Reyes pulled you into a warm hug while Carlos got swept up in pre-race preparations.
"My girl," she kissed both your cheeks. "You look beautiful today."
"Thank you, Reyes," you said, squeezing her hands before your eyes unconsciously drifted to the McLaren area.
"You're going to check on your brother?" she asked knowingly.
"Am I that predictable?"
"No, mi amor. Just a good sister."
You couldn't help but smile at that. Over the months you've slowly learned to not feel like you needed to choose between Carlos and Oscar, it was a slow process but their support made it easier.
You found Carlos doing his final preparations. "I'm going to check on Osc for a bit.â
He nodded, already half in race mode. "Tell him I said he's got this. The McLaren's race pace looked good."
"I will," you kissed his cheek. "See you on the podium, little bitch."
His engineer snorted, trying to cover it with a cough.
The walk to McLaren was filled with nervous energy. Early fans were already filling the grandstands, the atmosphere electric with anticipation.
The McLaren garage was quieter than Ferrari, the mood still heavy from yesterday's qualifying. You found Oscar in his driver room, staring intently at track maps.
"Brought you coffee," you held out his favorite pre-race drink. "And Carlos says your race pace looked good."
"Thanks," he took the cup but didn't meet your eyes. "For both."
You sat beside him, studying his face. "Talk to me, Osc. What's really going on?"
He was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer.
"I just..." he set down the coffee, running both hands through his hair. "Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for this. Like everyone made a mistake choosing me."
Your heart broke. "Oscar..."
"And I know it's stupid. I know I've earned my place here, but days like yesterday... it just brings all those doubts back."
"Look at me," you waited until he met your eyes. "Do you remember when you were ten, and you came home crying because some kid said you'd never make it to F1?"
A small smile tugged at his lips. "And you made him eat dirt at school the next day."
"Exactly. And what did I tell you then?"
"That I was meant for this," his voice softened. "That you could see it in the way I drove, even in karts."
"And has that changed?"
"No, but-"
"No buts," you took his hands. "You're exactly where you're supposed to be, Oscar Piastri. Bad qualifyings don't change that. Bad races don't change that. You're my little brother, and I've never been wrong about you."
He squeezed your hands. "How do you always know what to say?"
"Big sister superpower," you kissed his forehead. "Now drink your coffee and show them what you can do from P17.â
âThank you, sister,â he squeezed your shoulder, âNow go back to your man, heâs driving like a beast this weekend.â
When you returned to Ferrari, the pre-race energy was at its peak. Carlos was in his final preparations, but his eyes found yours immediately.
"Oscar okay?" he mouthed.
You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. Another side effect of your relationship was that Oscar and Carlos became closer than ever. Oscar looked up to him and Carlos grew so fond of him that he cared about him like an older brother.
It was something not even in your wildest dreams would make sense a year ago. But right now felt like the perfect dynamic.
The garage began clearing for the grid walk. Carlos pulled you aside quickly.
"Para suerte," he murmured, kissing you deeply.
"Little bitch," you whispered against his lips. "Go win this thing."
Reyes and Carlos Sr. were waiting in the garage, both greeting you with warm hugs as you settled in to watch the start.
"Nervous?" Reyes asked, taking your hand.
"Always," you admitted. "For both of them."
The formation lap began, your heart pounding as you watched Carlos lead the field around. The ambient temperature was rising, making tire management crucial.
"He's got this," Carlos Sr. said confidently. "Look how smooth his formation lap is."
The garage fell silent as five red lights appeared above the start line. Your hand found Reyes', both of you holding your breath. The Mexican heat was stifling, but you barely noticed, every nerve focused on the Ferrari at the front of the grid.
"Vamos, hijo," Carlos Sr. whispered, his usual composed demeanor cracking with nervous energy.
The lights went out, and twenty cars launched forward into the long run to Turn 1. Carlos got a perfect start, but Max's Red Bull was immediately in his slipstream, the blue car looming in Carlos's mirrors. Side by side they went into the first corner, neither giving an inch.
"Come on, come on," you whispered, unconsciously leaning forward.
Carlos held firm on the inside line, forcing Max to take the longer way around. Through Turn 2, the Ferrari emerged still leading, and the garage erupted. Engineers who usually maintained professional calm were jumping up and down.
"Tranquila, mi amor," Reyes squeezed your hand. "Look how controlled he is."
The pit stop window approached, tension ratcheting up. Ferrari brought Charles in first, the stop clean but nerve-wracking.
"Pushing too hard on those tires," Carlos Sr. observed as Carlos finally pitted.
When Carlos crossed the finish line first, the garage exploded. You hugged Reyes, both of you crying and laughing. Carlos Sr. wrapped you both in a bear hug, his usual composure forgotten as he shouted "ÂĄVamos!" repeatedly.
Through happy tears, you saw Carlos pump his fist as he drove past, and you couldn't be happier for him.
The podium ceremony felt eternal. When they finally played the Spanish anthem, you saw Carlos's eyes glistening as he sang along. He caught your gaze in the crowd and winked, making your heart flutter just like it did that first time you saw him win in Australia.
Back then, you tried to play it cool, like you didn't care that he won. But right now the story was completely different.
After the ceremonies and media obligations, Carlos finally made it back to the team. He lifted you off your feet the moment he saw you, spinning you around as you laughed.
"Mi amor," he breathed against your lips before kissing you deeply.
"My champion," you whispered back. "My little bitch."
He laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. "Only yours."
Carlos received hugs, cheers and champagne showers from friends, team members and family. After taking some photos and watching him complete more interviews, it was time to head out and celebrate.
"I'm going to check on Oscar one more time," you told Carlos, as you walked through the paddock.
"Tell him to come to dinner," Carlos said. "He drove well today, P8 from P17."
You found Oscar in the McLaren garage, already changed and packing up.
"Hey champ," you smiled. "Coming to dinner with us?"
He gave you a small smile back. "Think I'll pass tonight. Bit tired, andâŠ" he paused. "Just want some quiet, you know?"
You studied his face. "You sure? Carlos specifically asked for you to come."
"I know, and tell him thanks," Oscar squeezed your hand. "But you guys should celebrate properly. I'm good, really. Just going to order room service and study the race data."
You pulled him into a hug. "You drove amazingly today. P8 from P17 is no joke."
"Thanks, sis," he hugged you back tight. "Go celebrate with your winner. Just... maybe not too loudly in the hotel? The walls are thin."
"OSCAR!"
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ynpiastri MY LITTLE CHAMPION BITCH đ„Čđ„Č iâm SO proud of you mi amor, we all are. one more win this season showing everyone the talented driver that you are. the best is yet to come â€ïž
also beyond proud of my baby brother as always, your determination and ability to push through every setback never ceases to amaze me. chin up, i know you got this
oh and lando got p2 i guess
GRACIAS MEXICO CITY đ©
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username1 AHHHH
username2 SIMP PIASTRI
username3 this is still wild to me they used to hate each otherâs guts
scuderiaferarri â€ïž
username4 this is wild bc she hated him when he won in australia đ
nicolepiastri Congrats Carlos! Come visit and bring embarrassing stories of my daughter please
âł ynpiastri MUMđ©
âł username1 sheâs an icon
reyesvdec Te amamos â€ïž
âł username2 the sainz love her so much i could cry
username5 HELP THE LINE ABOUT LANDO đ
oscarpiastri Love you sis. Congrats to Carlos â€ïž
âł carlossainz55 Thank you brother
âł username2 this would send 2023 me into a coma
âł username3 THIS PLOT TWIST
carlossainz55 Te amo
At the restaurant, Lando was the only driver who joined your celebration with the Sainz family. He fit right in, making everyone laugh with stories about Carlos.
"You know," Lando said, taking a sip of wine, "I used to be Reyes and Carlos Sr.'s favorite adopted son."
"Used to be?" you raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah, then you came along with your whole enemies-to-lovers storyline and stole my spot," he pouted dramatically. "Now I'm like the forgotten middle child."
"Ay, Lando," Reyes laughed, reaching over to pat his cheek. "You're still our favorite British son."
"Small comfort when YN gets all the good Spanish mom cooking," Lando grumbled good-naturedly.
After dinner, it was time for the party celebrating Carlos' win. He claimed that he didn't want to drink much, but that went out the window when his friends lifted him up as 'Smooth Operator' played.
"SMOOTH OPERATOOOOR!" they sang terribly off-key. Carlos was laughing, one hand clutching his drink, the other reaching for you.
"Join me up here, mi amor!"
"Absolutely not," you called back, but you were laughing too.
Hours later, the celebrations were winding down. You stood outside waiting for your car, Carlos' arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. The Mexico City air was cooler now, but his warmth kept you comfortable.
"I still can't believe it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. "Second win this season."
You turned in his arms to face him, taking in his slightly flushed cheeks and bright eyes. The victory high was still there, mixed with the pleasant buzz from the celebrations.
"You know what's different this time?" you asked, playing with the collar of his shirt.
"Hmm?"
"I don't have to pretend I'm not happy for you," you smiled, remembering Australia. "Don't have to hide how proud I am."
His eyes softened as he pulled you closer. "You were terrible at hiding it even then."
"I was not!"
"Mi amor," he laughed, pressing his forehead to yours. "You called me 'little bitch' with way too much affection."
"That was pure hatred," you protested weakly.
"Sure it was," he grinned. "Just like when you stared at me during the podium ceremony."
"I was plotting your demise."
"With heart eyes?"
"Shut up," you buried your face in his chest, feeling it rumble with laughter.
"Never," he kissed the top of your head. "I love reminding you how bad you were at hating me."
"I'm starting to hate you again right now."
"No you're not," he tilted your chin up, eyes twinkling. "You love me."
Before you could retort, the car pulled up. As you settled into the backseat, Carlos pulled you close again.
"For the record," he whispered in your ear, "I was terrible at pretending too. Ask Charles - he said I talked about you constantly."
"To complain?"
"That's what I told myself," he smiled against your hair. "But I think everyone knew better."
You intertwined your fingers with his, watching the city lights blur past. "We were kind of idiots, weren't we?"
"The biggest," he agreed. "But we figured it out eventually."
"Yeah," you turned to kiss him softly. "We did."
#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz fanfiction#carlos sainz blurb#carlos sainz smau#carlos sainz x yn#carlos sainz angst#f1 x reader#f1 fanfiction#cs55 x reader#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 reader#carlos sainz imagine#harrysfolklore#cs55 fic#carlos sainz fic#f1 fic#f1 grid x reader#little bitch#carlos sainz#carlos sainz smut#mexico gp 2024
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bitch, iâm a mother! | f1
female driver x f1 drivers (platonic) i like that almost every story i read about a female driver her team ends up being porsche and Iâm not mad about it :) so for this fic, the reader is driving for porsche lol also Iâm just making up names for the engineers and team principal. also because Iâm in love with charlie hunnam, my man is gonna make an appearance
part 1 part 3
Y/N BEING THE MOTHER OF EVERY DRIVER IN THE PADDOCK
âY/n is so great, youâre going to love her. Sheâs the best.â Oscar listened to his new teammate as they walked into the Porsche hospitality. The rookie immediately felt out of place with him being the only one in papaya colors while Lando was in casual clothes.
âHey, Lando!â
âLando! Howâs it going?â
âNorris, hey!â
Lando greeted most of the Porsche team with a smile while Oscar nodded at them. âI hang out here sometime if you couldnât tell.â Lando joked.
âSo if I canât find you in Mclaren . . â
âThereâs a big chance I might be here.â
Oscar nodded once again. âNoted. Whereâs Y/n?â
As if on cue, Y/n walked into the Porsche hospitality with her team principal by her side. Once she spotted Lando, she called out his name. As the Brit approached the driver and team principal, he gave her a big hug. It was the start of the 2023 season and they hadnât seen each in a while, of course he was going to give her a hug.
âIâll see you around, Y/n. Nice to see you, Lando, and you must be mclarenâs rookie. Welcome to F1, Iâm Adam.â The Porsche team principal greeted Oscar.
âThank youââ before Oscar could continue, Y/n cut him off.
âIâve heard so many great things about you! And youâre an Aussie too! What is it with Mclaren and Aussies? Whatever, Iâm glad youâre here, Oscar. I hope you enjoy yourself. Have you eaten yet? I was just in my way to get breakfast. Let me tell you a secret, the Porsche hospitality has the best food in the paddock.â Oscar instantly felt at home with the female driver. She had a comforting presence that Oscar immediately took notice of.
âTold you sheâs the best. Just wait until itâs your birthday. She bakes you a cake.â Lando told Oscar.
The entire grid was together for their drivers briefing early in the morning. After going over every detail of the upcoming Grand Prix, the race director decided to let the drivers voice their concerns.
âDoes anyone have any questions?â
Y/n raised her hand. âI wanna know who banned the pit wall celebration.â
âAnyone else?â
âYeah, Iâd like to know as well.â Lewis added.
âWe can discuss pit wall celebrations at a later time. Excuse me, I am needed somewhere else.â The race director excused himself.
âDonât worry, I donât care about being banned. Iâll be there like a proud mom taking millions of pictures of you when you win.â Y/n whispered to Lewis as she layed her head on his shoulder.
âAnd Iâll be doing the same when you win.â Lewis replied.
âWhat about when I win? I also want millions of pictures taken of me and the exact same chocolate cake you baked for me for my birthday a year ago. Extra sprinkles please.â Lando smiled innocently.
âFine, win first then Iâll bake. Shouldnât be that hard unless you got a tractor for a car.â Y/n teased. âI love you, Lando. Of course Iâll take millions of pictures of you when you win.â
It was a perfect day to race in Silverstone. Like always, Lando had his family in attendance. He was in the mclaren garage when he spotted Y/n on one of the tvs being interviewed by Lissie.
âHey, thatâs my grid mum!â He told his engineer as if his engineer didnât already know. His smile quickly faded when a blonde man appeared behind Y/n in sunglasses. Lando then watched as the manâs name appeared on the tv.
Charlie Hunnam, actor.
Who was he and why was he with his grid mom?
âHey, thatâs the dude from Sons of Anarchy! My wife watches that series.â Lando heared someone say. He continued to watch the screen as Lissie asked Charlie a question about Y/n.
âSheâs incredible, absolutely amazing. Iâm happy I finally get to see her talent in person.â Charlie replied, smiling at Y/n which made her blush.
âHeâs British . . â he mumbled.
After Lissie thanked Y/n and Charlie for the interview, the camera kept rolling on them as they walked away. Thatâs when Lando saw Charlie hold Y/nâs hand then pressed a kiss to the back of it.
âSheâs dating a British man and she didnât tell me?!â
Lando immediately walked out the garage and straight to the Porsche garage. He had a strong feeling Y/n would be showing her new lover around so he started there. He soon spotted the couple talking with the Porsche team principal, Adam.
âOh, hey Lando! I was about to look for you. I want you to meet Charlie.â Y/n excused herself from Adam and introduced Charlie to her grid son.
âItâs very nice to meet you, mate. Y/n had told me a lot about you.â Charlie smiled.
âYeah, Iâve heard nothing about you. Nada, zero, not a single thing, zilch.â Lando then turned his attention to Y/n. âI think we need to talk.â
âOkay . . â Y/n said confused as she turned to Charlie to tell him she would be right back. Lando took her hand and dragged her to a corner away from Charlie. âLando! Whatâs wrong? Are you nervous about today?â
âWhy didnât you tell me you had a boyfriend?â
Oh.
âYou always tell me everything and now I kinda feel betrayed. Especially when i also found out heâs British!â Lando said dramatically.
âLando, Iâm sorry I didnât tell you, but it just sorta happened. We met a few months ago and heâs made me the happiest ever since. I wanted to introduce you properly today.â Y/n explained.
âHe makes you happy? Like genuinely happy? Because if he doesnât I will run him over repeatedly.â Lando warned.
Y/n laughed and brought Lando in for a hug. âI know you would, but thereâs no need for that. I think heâs the one.â
âBefore you leave, thereâs actually one more gift for you and you donât have to guess who itâs from.â
Logan was confused, but happily accepted the gift. It was the annual F1 secret santa and he had just finished unwrapping his present. A gift wrapped perfectly with a blue bow was placed in front of him. The tag read âFrom Y/nâ in neat handwriting.
âThank you, Y/n! I donât even want to open it, itâs wrapped so good.â Logan chuckled.
Every year, anyone who got a nicely wrapped gift knew it was from Y/n. And any year that someone new entered the season, Y/n would give them a gift during secret santa. She did it for Lando, George, Alex, Charles, Yuki and Guanyu when they were rookies and now she was doing it for Logan and Oscar. She had even sent Nyck a present as well, she wished he was in the paddock doing secret santa as well though.
âOkay, Iâll open it, Iâm too curious.â Logan finally unwrapped the present and saw it was a Miami Heat jersey singed by LeBron James. Logan almost freaked out when he saw the signature.
âHoly shit! Wait sorry, I canât curse, but holy shit!â He took the jersey out of the box and admired it. âThis is incredible.â
âYou love it?â He heard the familiar comforting voice of Y/n from behind him. âI hope itâs the right size.â She joined Logan in front of the camera.
âIt is, donât worry,â he chuckled as he gave her a hug. âThank you so much, I love it.â
âI think you just adopted another son.â The camera man told her.
âI love all my grid sons equally.â
#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1 driver!reader#f1 one shot#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#platonic#f1 x female reader
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Hi, I just want to say that I adore your writing. I want to ask if you could write a Billy x reader fic, where reader is part of hellfire and Billy develops a crush on the reader to the point where Max is irritated by how lovesick he is. Max tells him to ask her out as itâs obvious that he likes her but Billy makes up an excuse which causes Max to roll her eyes and tell him to grow up. Billy asks the reader out and it turns out that she likes him too and it turns out that they have a lot in common (for example their shared love of metalica). On the Monday following the date during lunch Jason starts picking the hellfire table and calls them all freaks, Billy gets protective over the reader and punches him telling him to stay the hell away from his girl. This probably isnât the best idea but if you do choose to write it, I canât wait to read it
I hope this is what you were hoping for and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting and your kind words<3
Not freaks
When Max first wanted to join Hellfire, Billy laughed his ass off. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. She didn't want to tell him or deal with him making fun of her, but she needed to be picked up. She'd seen Eddie drive, and she didn't want any part of that. He made Billy look like a safe driver.
Billy didn't agree, but he didn't have a choice. He knew Neil would lose his head if something happened to Max. He was smacking his steering wheel as he jammed out to Metallica. His speakers were loud and he was smoking his cigarette.
"Bye Max! See you tomorrow, tell your ride a great song" Billy threw out his cigarette, unlocking his door as he looked toward the passenger side. Max slid in as she waved off to a girl. A girl Billy never noticed before. He slightly leaned towards Max to see her but Max shoved him.
"Space! Jeez," Billy rolled his eyes at her comment and watched as the girl walked to her car. Even from the back of her head, she had Billy's attention, in more ways than one.
~~~
Billy couldn't recognize the girl and it was driving him insane, but he'd never ask Max. He didn't need her knowing his business or ruining his chance. He paid more attention in the hallways and his classes, searching around to see if he could spot her. But he never did.
"Hellfire ends at eight, so don't be late!" Max demanded, throwing on her backpack. Billy rolled his eyes and went to make a smart remark when that same girl walked up.
"Hey, Max! Are you ready for tonight? I sense Eddie is preparing to destroy all of us." Billy felt himself smiling as the girl giggled. His blue eyes checked her out, taking in her jeans and black sweater. Her black boots gave her a few inches as she ruffled Max's hair.
"Not like he can. We have the control." Max scoffed, she refused to ever seem weak around boys.
Billy coughed as loud as he could, knocking his knuckles on the car hood. Max rolled her eyes and turned around.
"Yes?" She hissed
Billy tried to signal what he wanted, nodding his head towards the girl. Max glared as she turned back.
"This is my asshole brother, Billy," Max announced with a bored tone. Crossing her arms as she smirked back at Billy.
"Y/N." She said, smiling politely as she nodded to him. Billy smirked and nodded back.
"You're the guy with the good music taste." She said, remembering the song that blasted way too loud through his speakers.
"And you're the pretty girl that recognized good taste." Billy smacked on his charming smile, loving how she smiled to the ground at the compliment.
"Gag," Max said, grabbing Y/N's hand and dragging her into the building.
~~~
"Tell me about Y/N" Billy demanded as he took the spot next to Max at the kitchen table. She looked up from her textbook with an annoyed sigh.
"Senior, hot, edgy, sadly your type, and even worse you are hers," Max said, shivering in fake disgust.
"But she's a hellfire freak?" Billy asked. "She doesn't seem to be freakish."
Max rolled her eyes, as usual. "Hellfire doesn't make you a freak, asshole. She's creative and is a damn good player. If anyone took the time to understand how DnD works, you'd realize it's not a freak show. Plus she'd kick your ass if you ever called her or any of us that."
"Is she single?" Billy asked, Max swore he almost looked nervous.
"If she had a boyfriend I would have said that, dingus." Max hissed, slamming her book shut. "I'd like to study in peace."
~~~
Billy had a sense of pride hearing Max say that he was Y/N's type. He honestly never cared to chase a girl, but he kept wondering about her.
During lunch he looked toward the freak hellfire table, seeing her smile. Billy couldn't help but stare, she was a magnet. She was single, but was she into any of them? Billy's eyes set on Eddie, a guy who had long hair like Billy did. A guy who wore leather like Billy did. Listened to cool bands like Billy did. If Billy was her type, would Eddie be too? He watched as she giggled and smacked Eddie's arm. His arm was thrown over her shoulder as he snacked on her fries. Billy took a mental note to ask Max about it.
~~~
"Dudeeeeee, you've asked about her every single day for the past week. Just ask the damn girl out." Max huffed, another night of Billy asking questions. She hated that he was a player and she had to deal with endless girls in her house. But somehow lovesick Billy was even worse.
"Her and I have barely had an interaction. She's not going to say yes to a stranger, Max!" He argued.
"You're not a stranger. I introduced you."
"In a horrible way might I add." Billy said as he glared down at her.
"Oh, whatever. I'm sure she's heard all about you around the halls." Max said, flipping through the TV. Her words made Billy a tad nervous. What if she was turned off by him because of his asshole and fuck boy act. Max looked over at him as he got silent. Her eyes looked over him. He almost looked nervous again.
"Look, you got a reputation and she might not be into that. But if you do like her and are serious about dating not just fucking. I think she'd hear you out." Max said softly, she stood up and patted his back as a sort of comfort. He smiled at the gesture and her words.
"What's her number?"
~~~
Max stood in Billy's door frame laughing as he raced around his room to find out what to wear. He tore apart his closet and dresser.
"Dude, it's a date. Grab jeans and a shirt that isn't unbuttoned all the way." Max advised.
Billy grabbed a classic T-shirt and his favorite jeans, pushing Max out of his room as he closed the door. He got dressed and covered himself in cologne. He hated that he was nervous.
~~~
"Billy I suck at this!" She groaned as she tossed the tiny ball. Billy laughed next to her, winning her skeeball challenge.
"Then why did you make it a competition?"
"Because I'm usually good at everything!" She huffed. Billy smiled at her pout and came behind her.
"Here, let me help." He tried not to melt when he smelled her sweet perfume. His hand covered hers as he swung her arm back.
"Follow this motion, then let the ball go." He instructed, he moved her arm back and forward. Her hand released the ball and went up the ramp. The ball finally made it in.
"YES!" She cheered, turning around as she hugged Billy. Her excitement was contagious as he spun her around.
Once she landed back on her feet, she realized how close their faces were. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned down. His soft lips pressed against hers.
~~~
Billy was still buzzing from the date. A smile on his face as he walked into school. Even Max could notice how happy he was.
He was reading through a car magazine in the cafeteria. Ignoring the commotion around him. Until he heard her voice.
He snapped his head up to see Jason at their table, running his mouth about the freaks and other names in the book. Billy took a deep breath and stood up. He walked over to the table as Y/N stood up and got in Jason's face.
"What are you gonna do, freak bitch?" Before Y/N could even speak, Billy grabbed Jason's shoulder and turned him around. His right fist connected with Jason's jaw, sending him straight to the floor.
"BILLY!" she gasped, grabbing his arm and moving him away. Teachers rushed to check on Jason.
"Talk about my girl or hellfire again, and I'll make sure you can never get back up." Billy hissed.
The hellfire table sat shocked that Billy Hargrove stood up for them. Y/N smiled at her boyfriend and Eddie gave him an approved nod.
Max smiled as she finally saw Billy in a new light, a happy Billy.
#billy hargrove fluff#billy hargrove fanfic#billy hargrove stranger things#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove fluff x reader#ashwhowrites#billy hargrove request#billy hargrove fic
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ౚৠLACY ౚà§
masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!
SUMMARYౚৠMaxâs new girlfriend reminds you of everything you arenât. You didnât just want him anymore, you wanted to be HER.
PAIRING ౚৠMax Verstappen x Ex!Fem!Reader (not very much tbh), Platonic!Kelly Piquet x Platonic!Fem!Reader
WARNINGS ౚৠKelly Piquet mentions đ°đ° (IM JOKING DONâT COME AFTER ME), obsession, changing oneself to fit anotherâs gaze, mentions of straightening and changing hair color.
A/N ౚৠHello there đž -Anon!! Iâm so happy to see that youâve been reading my fics for so long, I truly appriciate you and want to thank you for how youâve been so supportive these past months as well đ©· Although⊠Iâm not so sure happy endings are in my vocabulary đ€ (JK IâLL MAKE IT A HAPPY ENDING IN MY OWN WAY đ«¶) Again, love you sm đž -Anon, I hope you enjoy this đ©· (requested!)
Iâm also VERY sorry this is so short!! I was out of brain juice while writing this but still wanted to do it at the same time for you! :(
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maxverstappen1 âïž
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maxverstappen1 celebrating with my favorite people â€ïž
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kellypiquet âïž â€ïžâ€ïž
â username9 youâll never be y/n â username10 @ username9 yeah, because sheâs kelly and they BOTH love max in their own way.
username1 missing y/n-stappen.
username2 they are so cute but i will never get over max and y/n </3
username3 MAX VERSTAPPEN DOMINANCE đŁïž đ„ đŁïž đ„
â username11 DU DU DU DU đŁïžđŠ đ„ đłđ±
username4 canât believe that y/n isnât the one to celebrate with max for getting another word championship :(
â username5 what is with all of you complaining about y/n not being there?! max moved on, you guys should too. â username6 @ username5 damn sorry that we have opinions that we are voicing. â username7 @ username5 soooo we arenât aloud to miss someone that was a part of maxâs life for so long and that we grew to love? â username8 @ username5 parasocial relationship fr tbh đ
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kellypiquet âïž
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kellypiquet đ âïž
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username9 HERE BEFORE MAX
â username10 bro is faster than max emilian verstappen
username11 the y/n like???
â username12 like what is she doing here đ â username13 can another girl not like a photoshoot in her life?? đ
username14 so pretty!! đ€©
username15 sheâs such a upgrade from y/n honestly
â username16 and why is that??? â username17 @ username16 because she fits a driverâs type aka a model đ?? â username18 @ username17 sorry i didnât know you speak for all drivers and their types
y/n_l/n
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y/n_l/n đ đ
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lilymunihe âïž take the swimsuit off when??
â y/n_l/n đ«Łđ«Ł â username32 take the swimsuit off so she can stop copying kelly?? now. â username33 @ username32 you kelly fans are so obsessed with y/n like make a fanpage for at at this point
username19 hold up this looks sorta familiar
username20 itâs giving kelly rip off
â username21 kelly rip off?? sheâs the og. â username34 @ username21 og fake model? yeah â username35 @ username34 honey you do a face reveal at this point because that black screen pfp ainât doing you justice. â username36 @ username35 LMAO EAT HER UP
username22 anyone noticed how the swimsuit looks like kellyâs??
â username23 white swimsuit = copying kelly, got it.
username24 trying hard to look like kelly piquet
â username25 super duper! â username37 you all accuse this woman of something like 20,000 other people never posted a similar photo
username26 some people are seriously stretching with the y/n copying kelly. so her and kelly both posted photos of them at the pool, what about it???
â username27 LITERALLY. â username28 at this point they must just accuse every wag of copying kelly with their photos â username29 @ username28 honestly đđ
fransicac.gomes âïž pretttyyyy đ
â username30 pretty good at copying? yes. â username31 @ username30 OML SHUT UP.
[kellypiquet has posted a story 18 minutes!] [y/n_l/n has posted a story!]
210 people have replied to your story!
username38 girlieâŠ
username39 now this isnât very subtle anymore is it
username40 y/n??
lilymunihe âïž girl. open our chats rn or iâm taking away your phone privileges
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y/n_l/n has posted a story 5 minutes ago!
[1: đ€đ§žđ] [2: new hair!! âđ°đ]
104 people have replied to your stories!
username41 y/nâŠ
username42 not even hiding it at this point.
username43 copycat
username44 trying to win back max and not in a good way.
iamrebeccad âïž y/n lovely, we need to talk. :(
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y/n_l/n
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y/n_l/n iâve been in a rough patch these past couple months. and it took a wake up call to realize that you donât need to change yourself to be loved.
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kellypiquet âïž iâm so happy about the journey for you! we should go get coffee sometime to chat! đ„°
â y/n_l/n i would love that đ„čđ©· â username45 GIRL SUPPORTING GIRLS!! đ â username46 no war between them. no kelly > y/n or y/n > kelly. â username47 itâs ust Y/n AND Kelly đ„č!
username48 so happy for y/n to be finally moving on and focusing on herself now. she deserves all the love.
maxvertsappen1 âïž canât wait for my favorite girls to get along đ
â username49 âMY FAVORITE GIRLSâ â username50 IM CRYING. â username51 max and y/n might not be together, but they support each other like they never split and i love that.
alexandrasaintmleux thatâs our girl that we love đ©·
â y/n_l/n aleeeeexxx đđ iâm the one that loves you!! â charles_leclerc âïž suspicious.
franciscac.gomes âïž we love you y/n đ«¶
â y/n_l/n i want to kiss you omg â pierregasly âïž thatâs my gf?? â y/n_l/n and thatâs my bestie?? â francisca.cgomes âïž thatâs it you two, fight over me to the death đ©
iamrebeccad âïž so proud of you!! â€ïž
â y/n_l/n beccccaaaa đ
kellypiquet âïž
liked by y/n_l/n, maxverstappen1, landonorris and others
kellypiquet âïž friendship start in the most miraculous ways sometimes. had such a fun time with @ y/n_l/n! P canât wait to see her new friend again!
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y/n_l/n â€ïž
#đž anon#âïŸ user âł theyluvkarolina â#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#formula 1#formula one x reader#f1 imagine#f1 smau#formula one x you#âïŸ smau âł theyluvkarolina â#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#âïŸasks âł theyluvkarolina â#formula 1 x reader#formula one#f1 fandom#f1 fic#f1 x female reader#f1 x you#max verstappen x you#f1 angst
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Take It Like A Good Girl
Lando Norris x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Mad!Lando, cursing, SMUT
Summary: After Lando's DNF he takes his anger out on you in his driver's room.
PLEASE READ!!!!
A/N: Not that anyone asked, but Iâm 2 followers away from 300 and I want to say: THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I never thought that 298 people would like my fics enough to follow me and to come back for more but Iâm eternally grateful for each and every single one of you! I hope youâre enjoying the content Iâm putting out and Iâm not going no where!!!!
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F1 Masterlist
Seeing my boyfriend jump out of his Formula 1 car usually is a great sight to see. However, this time he's jumping out because he had to retire the car after a damning fight for the lead of the race against Max Verstappen and the contact was just too much for the car to bear.
The McLaren garage was half filled with a mixture of sadness and happiness. Sadness because Lando had to retire but happiness because Oscar has brought himself up to P2, which would still bring the team a significant amount of points.
When Lando actually got into the garage he walked past everyone without a second glance. I thought Lando was going to walk past me too with how fast he was walking away, however, he grabbed my hand and yanked me in the direction he was walking in.
It didn't take long for us to get to whatever destination I was being dragged to, which happened to be his drivers room. I didn't have a chance to ask him why he dragged me here before he shoved me inside and took off his helmet before speaking.
"Take off your clothes"
Now I'm used to Lando demanding me to take my clothes off when we're about to have sex but the way he was telling me right now sent heat blooming in my core.
"I'm not going to ask again. Take your clothes off" I figured it was better to not question Lando right now given how upset he is at the moment.
I only got to taking off my shirt before I felt Lando yank my body to his and smashing our lips together in a passionate and heated kiss. I felt his tongue brush against my bottom lip as if begging for entrance which I happily granted. Our tongues fought for dominance but Lando's ultimately won in the end. My arms wrapped around his neck trying to pull him impossibly closer to me as we continued to make out. Without breaking the kiss, Lando started to rid himself of his race suit and fireproofs as I started to undo the buckle of my belt before yanking it off of me with so much force, I broke a belt loop.
I felt Lando grab a hold of my wrists as I began to unbutton my pants
"Let me take care of you." Lando mumbled against my lips
"I should be saying the same thing to you" I said as I pulled away to look in his eyes
"If you want to make me feel better, you'll let me do anything I want to you. Right here, right now." Lando said as his hand collided with my ass which made a loud clap echo through his drivers room.
A slight nod of my head gave Lando all the permission he needed at the moment because the second he registered that I was giving him permission to take total control right now, I saw him drop to his knees as he unbuttoned my jeans and slowly pulled them down until they pooled at met ankles, leaving kisses in his wake before pulling them off and throwing them in a forgotten corner of his room.
Lando started by my ankle, kissing up my leg and the inside of my thigh before pulling my panties to the side and licking a long strip from my clit to my hole as he thrusted his tongue in me. My body tensed at the feeling of his tongue on my bare pussy before instantly relaxing into his touch as he threw one of my legs over his shoulder, my hands finding his hair instantly.
Lando sucked and licked my clit as he inserted two fingers into my aching hole, thrusting them at a merciless pace. I could feel my orgasm approaching closer which caused me to clench around Lando's fingers as he continued to fuck them into me. My hand that was in his hair grabbed a chunk of it as I started bucking my hips up into his face to push myself over the edge, which Lando didn't take kindly to. Pulling his fingers out, Lando placed a harsh slap against my bare pussy causing a mixture of a yelp and a moan to escape my lips as he did so.
"Did I give you permission to cum?" Lando said as he looked dead into may soul.
I didn't have time to answer before Lando stood up and manhandled me, turning me around and bending me over the massage bed before lining himself up to my entrance. Lando dragged his cock from my hole to my clit and back to my aching hole before roughly thrusting into me without warning.
Lando's grip on my hips was sure to leave marks later but I couldn't focus on that when all my mind could think of was the delicious pleasure Lando was so kindly giving me.
All that could be heard in the room was the sound of my moans, Landoâs grunts and a whole bunch of skin to skin contact as Landoâs pace grew relentless. Every few thrusts Lando would slap my ass hard before rubbing a hand over it as if to soothe the pain right away.
I could feel my orgasm building again and Lando could tell, he could read my body as if it was an open book. My broken moans started growing louder as my orgasm was quickly making itself evident. Just before I was about to fall of the edge and relish the euphoria of an orgasm, Lando pulls out and flips me so he could lift me up to sit on the massage bed before aligning himself up with my entrance again and continuing his rough pace.
âI know youâre close but I need you to hold off for me. Can you do that? Can you hold off your orgasm for me? Iâm getting close.â My brain couldnât register the words being spoken right now as all it wanted was to finally think about something else than an orgasm thatâs been denied twice already.
I felt Lando slightly slap my cheeks to get my attention before saying âAww, look at my baby. So cock drunk already and we just barely started.â All I could do was moan at the words coming out of his mouth. How I absolutely loved when Lando talked dirty in bed, it just made me go feral for him.
âIâm close baby, I need you to let go. Cum for me baby. Cum all over my cock, yes, take it like a good girl, ride it outâ A wave of Euphoria waved over my body as I finally got to cum before quickly turning into my body jolting with overstimulation as Lando kept fucking me through this orgasm.
Landoâs hips faltered as he too was getting close to his orgasm âIâm about to cum, where do you want it?â Lando said, stuttering as he talked because he was too busy on trying not to cum inside on me before I gave him an answer.
I weakly muttered my response âMy mouth. I want you to fuck your orgasm into my mouth. Please daddy, I need itâ Lando didnât need to hear my response a second time before he quickly pulled out of me and brought my face down to his cock before thrusting into it.
I flattened my tongue to give Lando more clearance to fuck my throat at a merciless pace while he chased his orgasm. Once Landoâs hips stuttered and he knew he was about to spurt his cum down my throat, he grabbed the back of my head, pulling me impossibly closer to him so his cock was angled down my throat at he continued to fuck my face. It wasnât long before I felt the hot spurts of Landâs cum glide down my throat, I couldnât enjoy it as much as I wanted to because all I could think about was air. I hadnât been in this position long but my airway was completely blocked off and I felt like I was going to pass out.
When Lando finally pulled back with a string of saliva being the only thing still attaching us to one another, I was able to gasp for air as I swallowed the remainder of his cum that was barely spurting out of his swollen head as he was pulled out.
Lando cupped my face and stared at me in silence for a few seconds before talking, âDid I go too hard?â
A little giggle left my lips. Even in his dirtiest of moments, Lando was always a gentleman and one to make sure that he didnât overstep any boundaries in the process.
âMâfine, I couldnât breathe for a second but it was hotâ I said as I bit my bottom lip
âFuckkk, youâre so hotâ Lando said as he pulled me in for a kiss, tasting himself on my tongue as he tried to devour me while trying to get ready for round 2.
A knock at the door is what halted Landoâs movements âpodiums are in 5 mate, we need you out here to celebrate me!â a male voice, who we made out to be Oscar could be heard from the other side of the door
Before pulling himself completely off of me, Lando wrapped a hand around the back of mt head and pulled me close to whisper in my ear
âRest up now because when we get back to the hotel, youâre not getting sleep tonight.â
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Sorry this is shit. I wanted to give you something before I knocked tf out.
If you enjoyed please like, comment, reblog and follow! I really appreciate all the love and support Iâve been getting!
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taglist:
@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan
#charles leclerc#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#lando norris#lewis hamilton#f1 smut#logan sargent fluff#lando norris smau#lando norris hurt#lando norris fanfic#lando norris smut#landoscar#lando norris imagine#lando x reader#f1 angst#mercedes formula one#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 hurt/comfort#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 smut#carlos sainz smut#lewis hamilton smut#smut#oscar piastri x reader#masterlist#f1 masterlist
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The Royal Way ăPt.2ă
(Leclerc!reader x Prince of Monaco!oc)
After his older sister marries into the Monaco Royal family, Charles knew he would be treated differently, to his surprise (and his sister's disappointment) his F1 team, ferarri, treated him the same way.... and that did not sit well with the new princess of Monaco
or
in which YN Leclerc uses her new familial connections to fuck up ferarri just like how they fucked up her baby brother's hopes and dreams.
N.B: so, this was supposed to be longer and the last part, but it's currently 3 AM and I have classes at 8 AM thus me splitting this little fic into a trilogy. Hopefully, I will have time tomorrow to post the third and final part! Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!! WARNINGS: NOT REALISTIC AT ALL!! if you are looking for a realistic revenge sort of plot, it is not here, I tried as best as I can to search up what the whole electronic system does and it's relation to the DRS, BUT I AM BY NO MEANS AN EXPERT NOR HAVE ENOUGH KNOWLEDGE, SO EXCUSE THE POOR RESEARCH. The car designs are from Pinterest... Some swear words (fuck, bitch, etc...) Let me know if I missed anything else please!
Faceclaims:
yn leclerc --> anya taylor joy
Prince Thierry --> louis partridge
Masterlist // part 1
Liked by ferrariisdone, charlesthefrench, leclercfam and 716,920 others
F1_updates_live: Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc heading into the Ferrari motor home in LA. Neither of the Royals look ecstatic to be in this position and it's no doubt to do with the statement released by Ferrari's Formula one media team, where they had essentially blamed the newly wedded Princess, YN Leclerc and their own driver, Charles Leclerc, for his DNF in the previous GP.
username: let them cook
username: the amount of bodyguards they have is insane
username: they do not look happy
username: yeah, no shit sherlock, ferrari basically said that it was yn's fault that Charles is distracted
username: ferrari blaming everyone but themselves
LEAKED AUDIO FROM LAS VEGAS GP, FERRARI'S MOTORHOME: tensions rise in the Ferrari garage as the young royals of Monaco, Prince Thierry and Princess YN Leclerc, threaten Fred Vasseur of taking him to court after buying out the rest of Charles' contract with Ferrari.
(Princess YN Leclerc,Prince Thierry, Fred Vasseur)
"It has been proven time and time again that the team is so incompetent! Why won't you do any changes?"
"Do you think that it's easy? These are people's livelihoods we are talking about"
"You do realise you are talking to a princess, right? She is well aware of how to run a business and a team, unlike you."
"I am just saying that I can't just fire people because Charles can't manage the car!"
"CAN'T MANAGE THE CAR? Are you out of your fucking mind mr. Vasseur? There is evidence, very strong evidence for your information, that the problem was from the electronic system. Do you have any idea how fucked up your engineers and strategists have to be to send out a car with failed electronic system?"
"Correct me if I am wrong my darling, but don't the electronic system control the DRS?"
"Mmhhmmm"
"And if the DRS opens in a corner it might result in a crash, am I correct mr. Vasseur?"
"The DRS was fine, there was-"
"My husband is asking a yes or no question Fred."
"Yes."
"So basically, Ferrari's Formula one team had, intentionally and with their knowledge, put a member of the monegasque royal family in direct danger."
"But Charles isn't a member of the royal family! He is only YN's half brother!"
"PRINCESS YN MR VASSEUR! YOU WILL DO WELL TO REMEMBER THAT!"
"Charles is my brother, and you dare put him in harm's way. I am princess YN Leclerc of Monaco, I can and I will hold you accountable as the principal of this team."
"You can't do anything! Carlos had the same car-"
"Carlos did not have the same car and you know it!"
"We already know Fred, we have had professional inspections done on both cars, it's quite deceiving really, telling a driver that he's the priority and still disappointing him every single time."
đ a thud is heard đ
"This is the amount of money to buy Charles out of Ferrari, but don't spend it Fred, we will be getting it back in court."
"YN WHAT WE-"
"PRINCESS YN FRED! *sigh* it seems like no matter what you are still convinced that you and your workers did no wrong, we will see about that."
"There is only one race left, there will be no team to take in Charles now!"
"Oh, we are not looking for a team to take him in, we made a team for him."
{Taglist: @phillydilly @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @omgsuperstarg @formulas-bitch @brakingboundaries @kyuupidwrites}
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 social media au#f1#f1 instagram au#f1 smau#charles leclerc#arthur leclerc x sister reader#charles leclerc x reader#leclerc!reader#brazilian gp 2023#older brother lorenzo#lorenzo leclerc x sister reader#lorenzo leclerc#lord perceval#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x sister!reader#leclerc brothers#arthur leclerc#leclerc family#leclerc reader#the leclercs
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Sorry new landoscar fan here, I kept seeing the notion that Oscar was Landoâs fan for years, but I canât seem to find any info about that?
ofc babe ! I store a lot of it in this tag but I think a little roundup post is probably due - heads up this is not in chrono order bc a lot of it is referenced from recent content:
2015 and Oscar making the big move to the UK to join Ricky Flynn and his fanboying of Lando begins
tiktok compilation of Oscar revealing his chronic Lando content consumption well before they were teammates
compilation from twitter of Oscar's decided bias toward not only liking Lando content but also searching his tag and finding posts that sometimes had barely a few likes (and this was just going back to 2017)
Oscar knowing when Lando's maiden podium was (and Lando calling him a nerd)
the 2020 hornet tweets because Oscar watched the stream of Lando battling 2 hornets in his house x x
2021 Oscar citing Lando's social media inspiring him to use humor as a way to open up to the public more (added landoscar angst here bc the hate and abuse he received after alpinegate seriously made him clam up and between that and him being fairly in awe of Lando, meant that Lando himself didn't rly get to know Oscar's humor until fairly late 2023 - like, no one should underestimate how Oscar entered F1 properly and got to know one of his favorite drivers all while being universally despised and painted as a villain/cold/evil - how much could have been different if one team had simply kept their mouths shut until verifying that tweet first esp when Oscar was already a shared reserve driver w McLaren anyway !!!!)
the beloved Oscar and Max F at Renault Academy lore
this post I made is a mess but the anecdotes he can only know from Lando's or Max's streams streams or Quadrant videos: Lando making stickers and selling them at school; Lando's snoring lore could be because of the thin shared walls but also Max has def brought it up before; he definitely already knew the story of Lando falling from a window trying to break into his own house; and the fact that we got Max reacting to Oscar referencing Max's outrage at Lando forgetting his birthday
it's a bit too scattered to compile but trust and believe Oscar has been a carlando girlie from day one - def the bromance but idk I feel like he's read a fic or twenty
watching Lando's career when asked about his idols coming up
and backing that up, him in 2019 saying the same thing
pulling out the it's Friday theeeen Lando meme
being so addicted to Lando content by 2020 that he actually fanboyed about the LN4 admin interacting w him
EDIT: he then followed it up by creating a sort of ship name for himself and Lando ??? https://www.tumblr.com/eightyonefour/768127962027606016/landoscar-lore-intensifies
and ofc K's beloved Oscar primer has a lot of context about all of this more fleshed out!
I think that's everything but if anyone notices I've forgotten anything lmk !!
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â
ALL THE RUMORS ARE TRUE | DR3
Scenario: in which ferrariâs favorite girl has thing for redbullâs favorite aussie, and has no shame in it. â a social media au
Pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader
A/N: Here is the second and last part to this fic! I hope you enjoy, and iâm sorry that I had to split the posts but iâve tried tumblr on a computer and I just canât get used to it. Also, this is my first time making the fake tweets so please ignore the little mistakes đ
PART ONE | PART TWO -> Keep Reading
yn_ferrari
liked by danielricciardo, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, redbullracing, georgerussel63, and 457,389 others
yn_ferrari While I donât normally post about other drivers victories, I wanted to congratulate @/danielricciardo today! An absolutely epic win, and most definitely deserved one. So proud of you. Ily â€ïž
danielricciardo Thank you so much, yn. Itâs an honor to be on the same track as you. Ily more!
norrisnation what does this mean? daniel-yn confirmed?
‷ f1obssessed i meanâŠbetween her tweet, this post, and danielâs response, iâd say itâs obvious
liked by yn_ferrari
‷ mv1defender i need yâall to be fr. sheâs literally just congratulating him on a win and yâall have your panties in a twist
‷ levelupleclerc the only other person sheâs congratulated like this was charles, and we know theyâre close so iâd say, based off of the other stuff, this is just another sign that she and daniel are more than friends
charles_leclerc sad to see that iâm not the only driver you congratulated anymore
‷ yn_ferrari you may not be the only one, but you were the first one đ
yn_ferrari
liked by danielricciardo, lando.jpg, charles_leclerc, georgerussel63, logansargeant, and 657,351 more
yn_ferrari Happy one year to my most favorite human! I love you more than anything. I cant believe I managed to keep my mouth shut this whole time, but iâm so glad that I get to make posts like these now. Many more to come, and many more years with you, honey.
danielricciardo Whoâs cutting onions in the redbull meeting room? I love you so much, baby.
‷ dannyricworld IM GONNA SOB this is so sweet
landonorris A year of being a third wheel. Canât believe I made it. Congratulations to you both â€ïž
liked by charles_leclerc and maxverstappen1
formulaoneacc idk about you guys, but they are my parents
ynswife A YEAR? A YEAR? AND WE ONLY GENUINELY STARTED THINK YOU GUYS WERE TOGETHER A FEW WEEKS AGO?
‷ gpierre10 idk who âweâ is, but iâve been calling this since october last year
‷ levelupleclerc LITERALLY. iâve been rooting for them since the beginning
#â© . drÂł files đïž#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one fanfiction#f1 fanfic#f1 smau#danny ric x reader#daniel riccardo x reader#daniel ricciardo#f1 drabble#f1 drivers#f1 x female driver#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1#ferrari x reader
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Where Did the Time Go?
Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You decide not to drink during game night, which leads to an interesting conversation with Bucky. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We'll Always be Friends A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! â€ïž Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You werenât sure what exactly happened between dinner and now, but you decided that the fun game night wouldnât include drinking. You hadnât touched a drop of alcohol since your meal. Even then, you were pretty sure you didnât have much. Sharon brought out a bottle of wine before everyone finished eating and you took a sip of your glass out of obligation. If she noticed you didnât finish your glass, she didnât say anything, which you appreciated.
But you shouldâve known that Bucky would catch on.
âNot drinking tonight, huh?â He asked as he took a seat beside you on the couch. Steve and Sam set up a game table and were already a couple of drinks in. So were Sharon and Natasha. You werenât worried about them though. They could hold their liquor.
But can I hold my tongue if I drink? Or am I using that as an excuse?
âNot tonight,â you replied, holding up your cup of water. âSticking with water.â
âYouâre acting like we need a designated driver when weâre not going anywhere,â he joked, throwing his arm around behind the cushion, the same way he had at the dinner table. âAfraid Iâll kick your ass in Mario Kart if you get a little tipsy?â He asked, grinning when you smiled. âWe can have a tournament? Just the two of us?â
âHey, one of us might need to go on a liquor or snack run. You never know,â you said, setting your water on the table before you sank into the couch. âAnd it isnât exactly a tournament if only two people are playing, is it?â
âIt can be. We make our own rules,â he smiled as he moved a little closer. âRemember the time we had a tournament? We went to that shady looking liquor store after Sam spilled the last bottle of rum. The guy behind the counter had a bunch of clown masks.â
You laughed a little. How could you forget? âYes! We had to open the living room window so we could breathe. And the cashier was actually a sweet guy, but you glued yourself to my side before that because you were certain the guy had bad intentions,â you said. Bucky and his protective streak made you feel important.
Until you werenât.
Bucky mustâve noticed the change in your demeanor since he stopped chuckling. âSeriously though. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?â
âI feel fine. I just donât need to drink tonight,â you said, touched that he showed concern for you before a weird expression crossed his face. âWhat? Do I have something in my teeth?â
âNo. Youâre, um,â he tapped a finger on his knee as he tried to find the words. âThere isnât a specific reason you arenât, is there? You're notâŠâ he trailed off, but his eyes drifted long enough to your torso to fill in the blank.
You never understood the expression about eyes widening to the size of saucers until you experienced it just then. âAre you asking if Iâm pregnant?â You whispered, careful not to speak any louder than that. The last thing you needed was the group questioning why Bucky asked such a question. âIf so, the answer is NO.â
The sigh of relief Bucky let out, you werenât sure what to make of it. âSorry. I'm sorry. You donât owe me an explanation for why you arenât drinking. I just. I don't know why my mind went there.â
You couldnât exactly tell him you're worried about getting plastered and revealing how you felt about him. Drunk confessions worked for some, but you didnât think the odds were in your favor. âI still canât believe you asked that,â you half teased, pointing at your stomach. âNot to mention, I havenât been laid in ages. So, unless it happens via immaculate conception, thatâs never going to be the case.â
The odd expression was back on Buckyâs face. What was his deal? âWhen was the last time you went on a date?â He asked with more interest than you expected.
âMonths ago. Minimum,â you said, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to recall the exact day. âHis name was Nick. We went on a few dates and he was nice enough, but he ended up getting serious with someone else. Havenât gone on another date since.â
The clench in Buckyâs jaw almost made you smile. He had no reason to look so upset on your behalf. âIâm sorry. Itâs his loss.â
âDonât be. Iâm kind of used to it,â you said with a nonchalant shrug.
âWhat the hell does that mean?â He asked, facing you on the couch and blocking the view of your friends at the table. âWhat exactly are you used to?â
Why does he sound upset? It's not like Iâm not his girl.
âIt means Iâm used to guys not picking me,â you said honestly. As much as it hurt to think that way, saying it didnât hurt as badly. âThink about it, Bucky. In all the time youâve known me, when have guys ever flocked to me? When have you ever seen a guy take a chance on me when Natasha and Sharon were there? They havenât and thatâs just the way it is.â
âThatâs bullshit. Youâre perfect. And maybe people do see you, but you donât see them,â he argued, quickly closing his mouth when he saw your expression. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean-â
âNo, I think thatâs exactly what you meant,â you said, sitting up to put some distance between the two of you as hurt filled his eyes. âI see just fine, thanks, but please enlighten me. Who saw me? Who did I overlook? Iâd love an example.â
There was no reason to get so defensive, but did he understand how you felt? People gravitated toward Bucky and your friends. They always had. You, on the other hand, were on the outside of the house looking in. It was tiring to be the one knocking on the door.
âWhat about your old friend, TJ? Youâre telling me he didnât see you?â He asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. It wasnât a tone you heard from him before. It didn't suit him.
âTJ?â You asked, confusion written all over your face that you couldnât fake if you tried. âTJ Hammond? My old family friend? Um, no, he definitely doesnât see me.â
Not even close.
âHe stayed at your place after Steveâs party,â he said, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. âBet he couldnât wait to see you. Probably went over the second you got back from the trip.â
Wait, is he jealous? What the hell?
You laughed a little, unable to help yourself when he raised an eyebrow. âYeah, he did stay at my place for a bit after Steveâs birthday bash a couple of years ago. He had an issue with his boyfriend.â
Bucky did a double take, which wouldâve been humorous if not for the stricken look on his face. âBoyfriend?â
âYeah. The guy he dated at the time was a HUGE asshole and they had a falling out. His parents refused to let him go back home, so he stayed with me. And I couldnât kick him out. He needed a friend,â you said, your brows pinching when you recalled how TJ cried on your sofa. It was a heartbreaking sight. âHe has a new boyfriend now who treats him well and he couldnât be happier. And I couldnât be happier for him.â
Bucky blinked a few times. âSo, you two. You neverâŠ?â
âTJ and I? No. Never dated, hooked up, anything,â you smiled with a shake of your head. âWe adore each other, but in a brother and sister kind of way. I mean, weâve known each other since we were in diapers. Even if I did find him attractive, nothing ever wouldâve happened. You, Steve, Sam, you guys are much more his type.â
Bucky didnât say anything, his face a bit pale. You worried for a second that he was going to get sick. âI thought you two hooked up,â he said more to himself than to you.
Where the hell did he get that impression?
âNo, we didn't and we never will,â you said again before something he said dawned on you. âWait, how did you know he stayed at my place? He asked me not to tell anyone where he was and I respected his wishes.â
Going through the dates again in your head, it wasnât long after TJ stayed with you that Bucky brought Dot around as his new girlfriend. You knew you lost your chance to admit your feelings because he had someone by his side. Someone who wasnât you.
âCome with me,â Bucky said, taking your hand and pulling you up from the couch before you had a chance to argue. It was hard to keep up with his long strides and he didnât look back when Steve called after the two of you.
âWhatâs going on?â You asked as he pulled you outside and slammed the door. You watched as he took a few breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. âTalk to me, please.â
âI wasted two years,â he whispered, tilting his head to look at the sky. âTwo fucking years.â
What is he talking about?
âI donât understand,â you said.
âI made a huge mistake and I regret it,â he said, squeezing your hand as he faced you. âAnd I can't go the rest of this week without telling you. I wasted enough time.â
âTell me what? Bucky, what did you do?â
And can we come back from it?
That literary edging. I'm sorry! Love and thanks for reading! â€ïž
Masterlist â Bucky Barnes Masterlist â Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes#best friend!bucky barnes#best friend!bucky barnes x reader#dreamboat and butterfly#reconnect au#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes au#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x you#james buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes x reader#sebastian stan
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â Ëââ§âșË DEFINITIONS OF MUSIC.
fandom. formula one
pairing. charles leclerc x professional pianist fem!reader (fc: none)
about. y/n y/l/n is one of the celebreties who has gone viral during lockdown. when she publishes her first album, she raises a few eyebrows with a featured artist
content warnings. social media au, not edited/proofread
notes. this is a very self-indulgent fic... so you all better love it or else đ«”
YOURUSERNAME AND 3 OTHERS
liked by zendaya, hanszimmer and 14'083'874 others
yourusername and 3 others we're proud to announce the album DEFINITIONS. each of the 26 original composed pieces embrace the title itself, the feeling of these words. they're defined by our language and passion, a gift from us to you.
yourusername so happy our baby is finally out, thank you adrian, charles and jamie, for this partnership. i couldn't have done this without you!
hanszimmer This is music.
charles_leclerc And it's finally here! I had so much fun working on this, thank you @/yourusername for allowing me to be part of your projectđ„°
jamieduffyy absolutely incredible!! stream definitions now!!!
zendaya I'm sobbing over the whole alphabeth, who would've thought... this is đ€Żđ€Ż
user holyyyyy shittttttt
user 26 SONGS??? AND MOST OF THEM ARE OVER 4 MINS LONG WE'RE GETTING SPOILED FR
haileybieber listening this on repeat and still getting shivers, this is incredible work đ
user the butterfly effect is so real here...
‷ user if you told me i'd follow this one tiktoker because she went viral with her piano only to become a fan of men who drive in fancy circles...
‷ user SO I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO'S NOW AN F1 FAN??
user sobbing over nepenthe on repeat
user CHARLES WITH LEMAN?? HELLO??? AND THEN ALSO PHILOCALY??? MY MAN STAND UP AND STOP WRITING LOVE LETTERS
‷ user what.
‷ user for the love of god, please look up what the words mean... charles really thought he was slick with this one
‷ user oh my god.
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Y/N Y/L/N SHOCKS MUSIC WORLD WITH CLASSICAL ALBUM AND FEATURED ARTISTS! FIVE PIECES OF THE 26-PIECE ALBUM ARE IN THE INTERNATIONAL CHARTS. EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT 'DEFINITIONS'.
From Viral TikToker to Record Holder, Y/n brings Classical Music back in Trend.
By Sara Ristan | Published February 24, 2024
If you know anything about music, you know the current trends. Pop and Rap is what the current generation likes, with a few outliners. From the very beginning, Y/n seemed to be one of them as well. Her first release, 'A Sailor's Wish', has been trending along with 'Solas', by her fellow artist Jamie Duffy for many weeks.
Her other composed pieces never hit the same numbers, that was until she released a full album. 'Definitions' has 26 original composed pieces, mixed with piano and full orchestra. It's an album full of masterpieces, fully deserving the high praise it has been receiving the past few days.
Every piece in the Album is named after a rare word, each one of them beginning with a letter of the Alphabet. Most of them were composed by Y/n herself, her signature moves regognizable, if you're familiar with her music. If you wish to read a full analysis of the whole album, click here.
Notable, besides the mindblowing compositions, are also the featured artists. We have Adrian Berenguer, Charles Leclerc and Jamie Duffy- each of them well known in their niche. What has raised eyebrows however, is that unlike Adrian and Jamie, Charles himself. He's an athlete, a Formula One driver in fact and very well known. While his fans knew about his releases, singles and even an album with Sofiane Pamart, no one was prepared for the partnership with Y/n.
Especially the titles of the pieces, two of them speaking about love, one is even titled as 'Leman', which means lover. Are these two trying to give us hints?
Beside that, five of the 26 pieces are currently in the charts, having already gathered millions of streams within days. Absolutely mindblowing!
click to read more
CHARLES_LECLERC
liked by yourusername, zendaya and 3'099'738 others
charles_leclerc P1 in Driver Championship Standings, P1 in International Charts, P1 in your heart... I love you, mon amour
yourusername ugh, ugly sobbing crying rn, no one talk to me
yourusername i love you too you sap
‷ charles_leclerc Guilty hehe
‷ charles_leclerc Doesn't stop me from loving you, cherié
‷ yourusername i never told you to stop
jamieduffy fucking finally
zendaya @/tomholland2013 why don't you write you love songs for me??
‷ tomholland2013 you're the one who sings?
user WE WON!!! Y/N NATION WE FUCKING WON
user if you squint you can see me fucking dead BECAUSE WTF IS THIS THEYRE ACTUALLY TOGETHER I CAN NOT IM DEAD OH MYGOOODDDDDD
‷ user lmao felt
user now we know how charles even agreed to y/n asking for a collab... he has always been down bad for her
‷ yourusername you're so right
‷ user OH MY GOD???
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taglist. @keyz-writes , @obsidianjewel , @aimixx , @themercyverse , @lem-hhn , @lupicalbestwolf , @akiraquote , @lpap , @lilypadlover , @adorablezhui , @peqch-pie , @namgification
DO YOU WANT TO JOIN THE TAGLIST? please send a non-anon ask to be added to the taglist. taglist can be general taglist (all fandoms and all works), fandom taglist (all works within the fandom), series (all works for specific series) or nsfw taglist (all nsfw works and all fandoms).
crossed off tags mean i can't tag you!
ARKHAM MAID 2024
#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 imagine#f1 scenario#f1 social media au#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc smau#cl16 x reader#cl16 x you#charles leclerc x you#â Ëââ§âșË creations
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has yet to pass âŽïž cs55
centre image by tony belobrajdic
genre: exes to lovers, slow burn, fluff, humor, slight angst, yearning, some sexual tension
word count: 12.5k
Four years after an angry breakup, the universe is bored enough to nominate Carlos Sainz for GQ Sportsâ Man of the Year and assign you to be the writer of his profile.
notes... internet translated spanish lol
auds here... requested, this fic is long! i hope you all like it apologies for the inactivity </3 exes to lovers we have a very love/hate relationship but this was a pleasure to write
Youâre half sure your head is about to pop out from how annoyed you are.
At the office, mornings move slowly in the very corporate-desk-job kind of way, but today is notably slower. Your boss had called you in an hour earlier to discuss important matters, and this is your third hour waiting already. Either your boss is a dumbass, or you got the wrong email, which both essentially mean the same thing anyway.
The time on your PanthĂšre tells you youâre curving into the three-and-a-half hour territory, and right as youâre about to get up to get a glass of water, the large wooden door swings open and your name is called through the crack in it. Suddenly the irritation dissipates into nerves, and because Jonathan didnât specify anything in the email, you realize you could be wading into anything right now. Termination. Promotion. A brick to the head.
âMorning,â you offer once the doorâs been shut behind you.Â
âSorry for the wait,â he says politely. âWeâve been in discussions with GQ Sports all day. All night last night, too. Itâs all proper boring.â
You nod, remaining fairly quiet and waiting for him to break the news to you. He clears his throat, places his hands on his hips and exhales.
âRight, so this is all related to GQ, actually. Theyâre doing a Men of Sports segment and they asked us to assign one of our writers to an athlete. Youâre our best right now, reallyâyour article turnout last year was absolutely stellar. So, thereâs, ah⊠thereâs tennis, yeah, thereâs footie, obviously, andâunder usual circumstances, youâd get to choose one of either. But we actually really wanted to cover racing this year.â
The cloud above your head carrying the dreams of interviewing Leo Messi or Roger Federer pops dismally.
âRacing.â You repeat curtly.
âItâs gotten proper viral this year!â He smiles, gestures to nothing to prove his point. âEvery teenage girlâs got a crush or other on a driver. Anyway, we set you up with the racing category, and the segment comes out in around six months.â
âIâve got a tiny bit of a qualm about thââ
âSo itâs decided. GQâs going to pick out the driver for you, and youâll be introduced at a gala next week.â
âWaitââ you laugh uncomfortably. âIâm thankful for the opportunity, and wow, thank you for choosing me, really, but do I not get to pick my own driver?â You clear your throat. âI mean, Iâm spinning the story.â
âI know,â he sighs. âBut this deal moved pretty quick, so a majority of the leverage goes to them. Donât worry, thoughâa lot of the drivers will have great stories, Iâm sure. Youâve got Lewis, youâve got the Verstappen guy, youâve got the Rosberg fellowâŠâ
âRosberg retired in 2016.â
âOh, fuck, seriously? Well. Hit me with a brick then.â
â
The gala is a fundraiser to celebrate the season kicking off, you realize when you step outside the car and read the navy blue banner across the entrance to the carpet. Itâs all fancy fonts and table placements, but One look at the watches and earrings in this place will tell you thereâs more than enough funds already. You digress, anyway, walking inside to find the only one person youâre familiar with in the world of racing.
âLewis,â you mutter when you locate him, voice dry with dread (and lack of alcohol), âkill me now.â
âOn the off chance youâre seriousâIâm actually willing to do so.â You slap his arm and he scowls.
âIâm supposed to meet the driver Iâm writing about tonight, but the GQ guy hasnât texted me. Christ, I hope itâs you. At least I have yearsâ worth of blackmail on you to really sell the profile.â
He only laughs, guiding the both of you to a champagne tower and offering you one. You down it in seconds, suffocated by nerves and the curiosity blooming inside you. âYou donât think itâsâŠ?â
âI think they keep track of those things,â he replies, but his voice is only half-sure. âConflict of interest and that. But Jonathan did say it was a quick deal?â You nod. âSo itâs not impossible, I suppose.â
Big help, you chirp sarcastically, eyes perusing the large room. There are tables populated by celebrities, by politicians, and of course, by drivers. You keep scanning, squinting to chisel your search further, but itâs cut off by a tap of two fingers on your shoulder.Â
âHi. Iâm Nick, the GQ rep, and I believe you and I have a meeting,â says the man behind you with an excited smile. âWhy donât weâŠ?â
He gestures to the expanse of the room and you nod, falling into step beside him. He introduces the article, the concept of shadowing the athlete to achieve a more immersive piece of work as a result, something novel and innovative.
Heâs right in the middle of talking about Jonathan when he stops at one of the cocktail tables and stations the two of you there. âOkay. Youâre one of the biggest names in sports journalism right now, so it means a lot for you to want to represent racing. Especially because both Neymar Jr. and Nadal expressed bids to get you to write their segments!â
âThey whââ
âRight, here we are. Meet your shadowâor, subjectâfor the next six-ish months.â He places two hands atop your shoulders and wheels you around, so your eyes meet those of, ââŠCarlos Sainz Jr.!â
Yeah. This is fucking rich.Â
Nick is talking but none of it falls right on your ears. Everywhere in your mind, alarm bells ring at full volume, alerting you to the danger present, almost. You plaster on a fake smile to acknowledge his presence, but his outstretched hand goes unnoticed. Clearly picking up on the tension, Nick gives a sheepish giggle and ducks out of the exchange, leaving the two of you woefully alone.
âCarlos,â you say politely. âWhat a nice surprise.â
There is a limited amount of phrases that are considered acceptable to say to an estranged ex of four years. Thereâs oh, what a surprise!, didnât expect to see you here, you look well. Itâs limited because nobody ever thinks to run into their estranged ex of four years, and even then, any sane person would do well to avoid interaction at all costs. So youâre really the luckiest son of a bitch in the world to be situated with a stuffy public interaction, under the guise of professionalism, with your ex-boyfriend.
Your history is heavy in the air. The last time you saw each other, things had been a lot different, but now youâre two professionals. Really. You really are professional.
âI refuse to be within ten metres of the guy,â you say, on your third martini. Lewis faces you with poorly hidden concern, and beside him, roped into your lovelorn matters, so does Sebastian Vettel. âTen metres. Actually, no. Make it twenty. How can I be arsed to write an all-over-him feature about a guy I absolutely hate and havenât seen in four years?! I had it all sussedâget assigned to Lewis, write the best feature, then restore his eighth world title.â
ââSheâs joking,â coughs Lewis.
âOh, but now? Now, itâs get assigned to my ex, write like shit, never get recognized for a good piece, and die hungry and alone on the streets of London. You know, I should just call Jonathan and tell him I donât want this. Iâd rather go back to writing normal articles.â You pry your clutch open but a hand stops you before you can.
âDonât.â Sebastianâs voice is gentle, but firm. âThis is a test of character, donât you think? More than thatâitâs a test of how good you are as a writer.â
âTrue,â interjects Lewis, chewing on a quiche. âIf you can write a stellar profile about an ex, I meanâyouâre just proper talented. But itâs also about how strong you are now, morally. Emotionally.â
âIâm perfectly fine emotions-wise, thanks,â you retort. Both men shrug, backing off, and you feel like you should be smug about itâbut your mind is stuck on the topic even as the night passes.
You end up deciding when youâre kicking your heels off in your flat a few hours later, giving Jonathan a ring despite the late hour. It takes a while for the man to pick up, but he does eventually, with an excited tone colouring his voiceââHowâs my star writer? Sainz, huh? Real eye candy.â
âAbout thatâŠâ you start, walking over to your bookshelf and chewing your lip, trying to think of the right way to decline the offer. Your eyes land on one of the several awards youâve garnered in your professionâin fact, the very first one. Most Promising Journalist, it reads, embedded into the frontâs frosty surface.Â
Four years ago. And youâve proven it since, if the crowd of glass around it is anything to go by. Why let a petty ex destroy what could potentially be one of your biggest gigs yet? Your segue outside of sports journalism?
âEarth toâyeah, hello? About what?â Jonathanâs voice breaks you out of your thought train.
â⊠I just, uh,â you say, nodding, âI wanted to say Iâm really excited.â
âÂ
Carlos Sainz Jr., 27, is on the rise as one of Formula Oneâs most talented drivers⊠(add more infoâŠ) His smooth driving style and charm has led him to become one of the most popular figures in the sport, both on and off the paddock. He is also a huge, absolutely irritating, cannot for the life of him be humble!!!, SON OF A BITCH, PRICK, ASSHOLEâAND THE BIGGEST WANKER ON PLANET EAR
âThe team will be here in just a minute,â says the lady whoâd ushered you into this meeting room in Maranello. You half-shut your laptop in fear sheâll catch sight of your brief Word document meltdown, but she doesnât seem to notice, setting a glass of water beside you and you stare idly at it while waiting for the rest of the room to enter. Youâre expecting Nick, Carlos, Mattiaâthe bossâand Charles, his teammate. Jonathanâs already beside you playing Candy Crush on his phone, as per boomer law.
This meeting is pointless. Youâve already exchanged the bare minimum pleasantries with Carlos, anyway, and you cannot for the life of you decipher why there needs to be a whole new corporate clash just for this. But here you are anyway, awaiting your ex-boyfriendâs arrival into the room and back into your sweet life.
He enters with everybody else, his hair half-damp and his eyes meeting yours almost immediately. You clear your throat and turn away, standing to shake hands with Mattia. Heâs pleasant about it, expressing excitement for the final output and commending your earlier work as a writer. You offer the polite small talk back, discussing plans for the article and the release date.
âOver at GQ Sports, weâre really trying to make this concept as immersive as possible. That requires the writer to shadow the athlete at almost all times, maybe taking a couple days off if needed. That might mean she gets a paddock pass, and things like that.â
âThatâs no problem,â Mattia says. âAnything for the article.â
You end up being introduced to Charles, tooâCharles Leclerc, who wears a contagious smile and wonât stop letting his eyes frolic in between you and Carlos, like he can sense the history. You suspect Carlos brought him up to speed, anyway, but itâs still a bit amusing. While the meeting carries on, Charles chips in with a joke. âHey, if you find this guy irritating, you and I are going to get along.â
You laugh a bit, but remain mostly quiet for the sake of being professional. You miss the way Carlosâ eyes linger on you a second too long, focusing on the tail-end of the meeting so you can, for lack of better word, get the fuck out of here.
Of course, though, youâre stopped in the middle of the parking lot by Carlos himself, whose apologetic face is the first thing you see when you turn around with a huff. Youâd already known it was himâhe was calling your name loudly as he jogged over to youâbut itâs still a sour surprise.
âWhat?â
âLetâsââhe pauses to take a breathââtalk. Listen, I know it must be an imposition for you to write about this, about me. Let me make it clear that Iâm 100% okay if you choose to switch athletes. And if you needed any background information, Iâll be willing to give you that.â
âI donât care what youâre okay with,â you say blankly. âAnd Iâve got Google.â
âRight.â He stares. âUm. Okay, well, letâsâcan we agree, then? To be civil, for the period of time this article will be written?â
You consider the truce. As much as youâd like to be snarky with him and make your disdain all the more clear, youâre also not interested in making a scene or causing any type of fuss around hisâand yourâcolleagues. The glass awards on your shelf flash through your mind, and you inhale softly. âOkay.â
He smiles. This seems a bit more difficult than you thought, for reasons you didnât even consider.
âForget anything ever happened,â he says when your hands meet. Something jolts through you.
Yeah, youâre fucked.
â
Your introduction to the actual sports part of the profile goes well, with a flurry of chaos in Bahrain.
Despite Jonathanâs texted reminder from Friday morning (Stick to Sainz the whole time), you find yourself staying in your comfort zone, ergo following Lewis around nearly the entire weekend. Granted, you are itnroduced to a few more driversâMick, Esteban, Alexâbut also Lando, one of Carlosâ closest friends on the paddock, who makes dirty jokes from the get go.
Still, even Lewis has to remind you you have another driver to actually cover, so you reluctantly detach from him on the race day and begin your search forâ
âCarlos,â you utter, breathless from exhaustion when you finally locate him inside his room at the motorhome, which you swear you checked twenty minutes ago. Either heâs avoiding you or heâs truly impossible to find. He adjusts his suit and looks at you with an unreadable expression.
âYes?â
âI need a couple of words from you.â You smile politely, taking a seat on the couch armrest. âLike, pre-race nerves, jitters, routine. Anything?â
âI have a playlist,â he says, humming. âI like to call family, have a talk with the engineers.â He says it like en-yi-neers, but you already anticipated it. Youâve known en-yi-neers for years. You know how he talks, pronounces everything. âAnd I say a prayer, trust the car.â
âTrust the car?â You type the last few words onto your laptop, which youâd been toting around all day. It balances on your lap. âAny follow-ups to that, considering thereâs been some chatter around the car this year and its supposed faultiness?â
âI just do what I do best,â he replies, steadfast. âThe rest is a gamble Iâm willing to take.â
âPerfect.â You finish. âThat was a great line. Thanks so much, really.â Itâs your reporter voice, the one you use for just about everyone else on the paddock. He nods in response, and the room ebbs into silence again. Itâs awkward, when you excuse yourself and exit, already planning exactly how youâre going to tell this to Lewis. Halfway out the door, you purse your lips, turn, and then:
âGood luck, by the way.â Your voice falls soft.Â
He looks up, momentarily surprised. âThank you.â
You nod a little, smiling as you shut the door.
Carlos ends up getting second placeâyouâre beside a zealous Ferrari engineer when it happens, walking along the pit lane. Compared to your stoic smile, their reaction looks like the pinnacle of human emotion. Your turmoil is all inward, a melting pot of emotion for the driver. Would it be weird, you think, to feel proud? To feel happy? When things have ended?
Much later, when youâre wrestling for comfort in the throng of cheering Ferrari engineers, you squint to find Carlos on the podium.
Youâre aware there are photographers everywhere, with high-def cameras that rival your natural eyesight, even, but still you tug your phone out and snap a few shitty zoomed-in pictures of him in second place, smiling and sprayed with champagne. You think of the profile, of the words youâll use to capture this moment, the season kickoff. But most of all you think of the way his eyes seem to search for something specific in the mass of people, or the way you wished for them to meet yours.
â
Sainz, a self-proclaimed music lover, loads a pre-race playlist that changes every few locations. He names some of his favorite artists and songs as sources of motivation.
You climb into the passenger seat of his Golf when you finally find him, after a half hour of asking around everywhere. First, it was âin the motorhome,â then it was âin a meeting,â then it was âhanging out with Charlesâânone of which ended up being true, anyway. He doesnât question your presence (he hasnât much, lately), just lets his eyes wander over to you briefly before you begin asking questions.
âFavorite song?â You get straight to it, stressed over the article. Jonathan has been on your ass about missing a deadline and causing the third world war in the process, or something or other. You sigh when you settle into the seat.
âNot even a hello or a buenas noches,â he says as he pulls out of the parking lot to drive the both of you to your hotel. âWhatâs this for?â
âYou already know,â you say, humming as you sift through notes. âListen. You did an interview before with Toro Rosso, right? Where you said your favorite artists were Muse, Kings of Leon, and The Killers. Right?â
âWhat theâyou are a serious stalker.â He laughs out loud, eyes still on the road ahead.
âItâs kind of my job, Carlos,â you say, smiling and gritting your teeth. âJust answer.â
âSĂ, sĂ. Yeah, I like that genre. I like rock, I guess⊠rock, indie, 80âs. Youâd be surprised how little of an effect music has on my pre-race routine, though, even if I have a playlist.â
âTell me more,â you muse. Your laziness to retrieve your laptop results in you scribbling soundbites onto your notebook instead.Â
âMusic is an escape for me, you know? I like it a lot. So as long as something gets me going, Iâm good with it. It doesnât have to be by a favorite artist, or a famous one, or a Spanish one. Though I have been listening to Shakira a lot lately.â Obsessively listens to Shakira, you write. âItâs just release. Lately, Iâve been listening to the same few ones on loop.â
âCare to share?â Music = release. Same songs looped.
He presses something onto the centre console, and music flows throughout the car right after. âThis.â
Baby Iâm Yours by Arctic Monkeys, you write, and then, all at once, you slowly realize exactly what youâre writing. You stare at the scrawled-on words, the song bleeding into your ears and saturating your brain. Youâve always thought of this song with a weird feeling, one in between nostalgia and hurt, and now itâs on full blast. In Carlosâ Golf, no less, which happened to be the venue for many of your listening parties back then.
Back thenâwhen nobody knew much of this song and it hadnât yet become an indie anthem. It was just another cover by your favorite band in 2015. It became your song, the song for kitchen dances, the song for long car rides, the song for the red lights, the song for the morning routine.
But now itâs just a song.
âCarlos,â you say. Itâs supposed to sound strict, firm, even a little angry. But youâre so affected, it leaves you quietly instead, weakly almost. âCome on.â
âDo you remember when you first showed me this song?â He responds instead, the volume still loud. You allow yourself to smile a little, leaning your head back and watching the cityscape of Bahrain whir past. In a foreign city, you think, you feel more at home than ever.
âYeah,â you profess. âOn my iPhoneâwhat was it then? iPhone 5, or something.â You both laugh a little. The dam has broken, it seems, and topics of your past relationship seem to now be open to discussion. But it doesnât feel alien, or weird, or uncomfortable. Carlos laughs, makes fun of your old lockscreen, and all is well.
A lot of memories have unwittingly attached themselves to this song. Itâs the kind of song where, even in the opening notes, youâre already stunned with the myriad of them. There are the obvious ones: first finding the song, first dancing to it. But it trickles down into the smaller, more niche ones.
The time you got a busker in London to perform it for you both, and danced like idiots at ten-thirty in the evening, while some onlooking geriatric couple watched with mild entertainment. The time you got him a vinyl record of this EP, and left it in the cab before you were supposed to give it to him, leading to you crying on his sofa while he cuddled you and fed reassurance into your ear. The time he attempted to learn the chords to it and broke the string of your decorative guitar.
Like always, Carlos drives one-handed. Heâs usually responsible, but if heâs cruising, or driving at a relatively slow pace, he likes to lean back and use his left. His right lays, unmanned, on the centre console of the Golf. You donât notice itâs there until you finish writing a sample line on your notebook and you lower your left hand absentmindedly, brushing a finger against his in the process.
Your instinct is to jerk away, but Carlos is calm, humming to the song and reading road signs. So you let it rest there, in part to show yourself youâre capable of relaxing, butâand it feels like a heavy thing to admitâalso because you like the feeling.
So your hands are there, just shy of each other, barely touching. His pointer finger twitches, almost like heâs trying to hold it back from inviting yours to wrap around it. You let yours brush over them a little bit, pulling away. Then he coughs, and lifts his hand to make a right turn, so you resume writing, eyes downcast.Â
â
Youâd spent the Saudi weekend less with Lewis (in a bid to follow his advice) and socialized a bit more with Lando and Charles, who both proved to be pleasant company. They played table tennis with you and even shared a good chunk of grid gossip.
âPierre and Yuki have soooo done it,â whispers Charles, scandalized, sipping a G&T from a decorative polka dot straw.
âShut up!â You clap a hand over your mouth. âI mean, I had my suspicions. But really? Theyâve shagged?â
âOh.â He pauses dumbly, scratching his head. âI meant theyâve done marijuana.â
âDamn it, Charles,â bemoans Lando. âYouâre a sodding buzzkill. Weâve all done weed, this is not news. The gay sex wouldâve been.â
The afternoon progresses into night, and you seem to be on a roll with the sports componentâCarlos gets to P3 in Saudi Arabia. You travel to his motorhome room after the debrief, where you hope heâll be, and find him packing shit up inside.
âGood work out there,â you say, and when he looks up he finds himself meeting your eyes in the mirror. He fumbles with the zip of his suit and you walk a little closer.
He huffs out a polite thanks, tugging on the zipper harder. The clothâs eaten it, a problem thatâs been plaguing his race suits as of lateâa problem, according to his engineer, easily solvable if heâd just be more patient with tugging it downward to loosen. A problem youâre familiar with as well, from his Toro Rosso days of ranting to you about zippers and sewing.
You lean against the wall and maintain safe distance. âIâm going to ask you about the race later.â
âAlright. What specifically?â He begins the mental Spanish-English translation in advance.Â
âWhatever you can give,â you reply, nonchalant. âMaybe more on the feeling while racing. The different perspectives of P3? Sort of likeâyeah, youâre on the podium, but itâs not P1.â
âThanks for the reminder,â he laughs a little, a bit embarrassed he hasnât fully undone the zipper yet. âUm, sure. Iâll meet you outside afterward.â
âThanks. Andââ You stop yourself in your tracks, still facing him in the mirror. His eyes find yours again, eyebrows raised from the unfinished sentence. ââBe patient with the zip.â
He chuckles, memories surfacing like bubbling lava. âRight. Bueno.â He turns and throws his hands up, looks like heâs surrendering almost. âHelp me out?â
Youâre incredulousâitâs a highly compromising position.
But heâs not really smiling, and he seems to be seriously asking you to please help zip him up, so you nod. Nod once then twice, walking slowly over to him and placing two fingers on the zipper. You donât notice how shaky your grip is until you see the way your hand trembles.
Slowly, you tug. Upward, then downward, then upward again, to loosen the stubborn thing. Your eyes move until they meet his, and you realize how close together you are. From here you can see the faint pink indents on his face from the balaclava, and you wonder almost how itâd feel to stroke over it with your thumb. It twitches on the zip and you remember to yank it again.
âJust give me a second,â you say, but youâre not even paying attention to the zipper.
Just him. Just the proximity. The thoughts of what ifâwhat if you leaned closer, right now? Closed the gap, shut your eyes, let your finger trace over the shape left behind by his balaclava, zip forgotten?
âTake your time.â His voice is deep, gentle.Â
His eyes pierce yours, the tension growing in between you until you can barely breathe.
You pull and finally, it gives, unzipping the whole way. You blink, breaking eye contact and stepping backwards so fast you almost trip. âIâll be outside.â The door is shut, the noise damning behind you as you finish an entire cup of water in what you genuinely think to be record time.Â
â
âFine. Fifty euros.â
âFifty?! Cheap trick. Make it two hundred.âÂ
âIf youâre in the hundred territory, might as well make it five hundred. Turn this into a serious thing.âÂ
âDeal.â The Brit and the Monegasque clap their hands together in a firm handshake. âLetâs talk terms.â
Charles recites his end of the bet, as clearly as he did when this was first wagered just ten minutes ago. âShe and Carlos will start dating before the article is even published.â
âTheyâre exes, innit?â Lando laughs. âYouâre wrong, Charl-ito. They will never date, ever again. Exes donât date.â
âUnless theyâre soulmates,â he reasons.
âPsh, what do you know about soulmates?â The younger raises a condescending brow. âYou dated a girl and then her best friend.â
âBack off,â insists Charles petulantly, watching Lando messily write down the evidence of their wager on a small slip of paper. For proof, heâd said, before slipping it into the back of his opaque phone case. He waves it around. âWe shall see.â
âYou will definitely be paying me up,â Charles says proudly. âJust you wait.â
â
âCare to listen to me?â You hoist yourself onto the stool of this hotel bar, ordering yourself a martini.
âAlways,â says Lewis, immediately facing you. Heâs always been one of the kindest, most genuine people in your life. Heâs known you forever, and heâs the only person here who really knows the extent of your history with Carlos, all the layers, all the fights, all of it.
You sigh and lean against the backrest, deflated. âCarlos and I⊠I donât know if this is going to work.â
âThe article?â
âBeing with him.â You pause to reword it. âAround him.â
âI see. Hasnât it been, whatâfour years now, though?â
âYeah, butâŠâ But why does it feel like you both want those four years gone? The car ride with the song, the eye contact, zip situation after Saudi. You lick over your lips and sit a little straighter.
âLew, itâs justâand you should know thisâwhen you break up with someone, youâre forced to unlearn all the things you knew about them.â You sigh. âAll the⊠just all of it. The habits, the quirks, the favorite words, the way they like their toast and eggs. And if you canât, then fine, itâs still okay, because why would you ever need it again? But I havenât forgotten anything, and now heâs back in my life.â
Lewis stares, with eyes that convey solemnity and a little sadness. He seems to understand, watching you intently, the way your eyes are glassy with unshed tears.
âSo now I see him, and it feels like heâs likeââyou inhaleââthis sounds⊠bad, but like⊠Iâm⊠like heâs a lover, kind of. In disguise, a little bit. I donât know. Like, I have to pretend I know nothing about him, like every little fun fact is a new thing for the profile⊠but I know everything.â And what a heavy burden it is.
âIâm sorry,â he says quietly.Â
âNo, donât be. Iâm pretty sure this is all one-sided.â You take a long sip. âThatâs the price to pay for ending on bad terms, I suppose.â
âJust think,â he muses out loud. âWhen this is all over and youâre accepting your Pulitzer, you wonât even be thinking of him one bit.â
âRight,â you say. Carlos, Carlos, Carlos. Heâs the only thing on your mind. âRight.â
You find a working title for the article later. Carlos Sainz, it reads on your Word document. On racing, gracious defeat, and lifeâs driving forces.
â
Like every other sport, Formula One drivers have their share of bad competition days. Sainz recalls a time his car failed and caused him to DNFâracing vernacular for âDid Not Finish,â a damning phrase for any driver on the grid.
A double kill vibrates through Carlos.
Itâs a consecutive hit thatâs both professional and personal, and greatly affects the momentum of the profile youâre busy writing. In Australia heâd been reserved, eyes stormy, walking alone but not angry. Heâd congratulated Charles and everything, even offered a few words for the article. The last you saw of him was with a beer, brows knitted together.
Tonight youâre in Imola. Heâd been okay after the race, the usual silence that comes with a bad result.
No hard feelings, heâd said. This is the business. Hugged Danny, excused himself; nobody said anything. Itâs a normal response to a shit day. You spend the post-race buzz with Lewis and Sebastian this time, but you manage to congratulate Lando on the podium finish when you catch sight of him.
âMaaate!â He cries gleefully when he sees you. âWhereâs the muppet?â
âMourning,â you drone. âReasonably so, I guess.â
âTough crowd,â he says, kissing his teeth. âBut, yeah. Heyâshots on me!â
âTempting offer.â You eye the bunch of tequila on the table. âBut I think Iâll retire early. I need to send a draft pretty early tonight.â
âAll good. Have fun being a loser,â he says, watching you leave. Â
The hotel, it turns out, is not nearly as fun as the party. Which is common sense.
You spend time writing and rewriting a few paragraphs of the article, stuck on the title of it and honestly wishing you were with Cuervo and vodka right now. You suppose you donât need one just yetâthey usually come to you late, anyways. Jonathan sends you three follow-up emails regarding a draft, so you send him the latest version and read over the file, reciting favorite lines under your breath.
In the middle of reading on the Bahrain P2 and a little segment on Sainzâs favorite Ferrari moments, somebody knocks on your door.
Itâs a surpriseâyou donât spend much time with people on the paddock, and only few of them know your room number, which leads you to narrow down the person on the other side to a select group. Thereâs Lewis, most likely of them all. Charles, who youâd grown much closer to as of late. Level with him is Lando. Then maybe, just maybe, Sebastian, to offer late night advice.
It couldâve been any of them, but itâs not. Itâs somebody else.
âIâm sorry.â His voice threatens to break. âI didnât know who else I could talk to.â
âCarlos?â You blink.Â
You usher him in after, and you hope his mind is anxious enough that it doesnât pay much attention to your hideous pajama situation (old hoodie, souvenir L.A. pajama pants). You end up on your balcony, both of you facing the frigid nighttime air. It freezes your cheeks, casts your hair backwards. Your eyes slide to his stoic figure, the way even his hair is blown back by the wind.
Heâs quiet, but more relaxed, less stiff. âSorry, again.â
âSâokay.â
You duck back inside and return with two cigarettes and a lighter. âWanna?â
âAwful habit.â But he accepts it anyway, sticking it in between his lips. It bobs as he speaks, still unlit. âI need this, though.â
âI donât do it regularly,â you defend, pressing the flame to the cig. He exhales. âSome situations call for them.â
âThis definitely does. Bit of a slap to the face, you know?â You nod. âIâm sorry.â The apology carries more weight than it should, and you know why.Â
Like itâs the most difficult thing in the world, you breathe a few times before you respond in a hushed tone. With your words comes a huff of smoke. âDonât beat yourself up over it. You gave it your all, took a risk, it went to shit. But you gave it your all is what matters in the end. You put heart into it, which is something not everyone does in sports these days.â
âI feel⊠complimented.â You both laugh at the lack of good phrasing, so he rewords it. âI meant, I feel, how you say? Touched. It means a lot to be praised by you.â
âDoes it?â Smoke again, another whiff of it.
âThey only ever want to praise the podium finish, the P1, the title holder.â He lets the words fizzle. âBut here you are praising a driver who finished like shit twice in a row. More people should be like you, paying thanks to the underdogs.â
Itâs not the underdogs, you think. Itâs just because of you.Â
âMore like the shit drivers,â you say instead, in a low rumbling voice. He laughs, calls you stupid in Spanish, and itâs a dead issue.
Later, before he leaves, when the roomâs much darker and less bathed in moonlight, you whisper goodbye to him through a small crack in the door. He smiles a bit, and you catch it even with the lack of lighting.
âThank you.â He says. He means it. You catch his perfume when the door swings closed. It smells like wood.
â
Sainz has off-grid hobbies, one of the most notable of which is cooking. He claims to have a good hold over the kitchen, and cooks several of his favorite dishes on the rare weekend off. Blah blaaahhhh, cooks well. Usually wears funky apron. WRITE THIS PROFILE ALREADY STOP EATING PASTA YOU DIPSHIT
Lando had invited you all to an Airbnb owned by a friend in Umbria, a two-ish hour drive from Imola.
With two free days, youâd followed a small group of driversâCarlos includedâto soak in the rest of Tuscany. Charles and Lando, however, left as soon as you arrived, to check out the last few hours of the farmerâs market. Alex had met Lily at the Eurostar station and theyâd gone biking together.
This effectively left you and Carlos alone, which was not an unusual occurrence, but still proved to be a bit tense. With the kitchen free and the fridge stocked, Carlos suggested he cook for you both. Despite your best efforts, you ended up at the island writing and taste testing sauce, chicken, anything he slid over to you on a saucer with a tiny fork beside it.
âYouâre going to give me cholesterol problems,â you quip. âThis pasta is too good.â
âCacio e pepe.â He twirls some onto a fork, straight off the pan, and shoves it into his mouth, a low mmmm leaving him once he gets to chewing. You laugh, a stifled sound through the noodles in your mouth at the exaggerated show of delicious food.
âAny favourite food you think is notable enough for the profile?â You type again, backspacing your harsh reminder. Makes a mean cacio e pepe (look up translation later). âLike, food you cook yourself, or even other recipes.â
âThis,â he says, pointing to the pan. âThis is fuel.â
âAmen.â Loves cacio e pepe.
âAnd itâs good with chicken.â He points to the oven, where heâs been baking chicken for a bit now. The kitchen smells of it, of the rosemary and oregano and pepper. âOh, and put that I cook with music on. Let me connect my phone.â
Cooks w/ music. âWhy do you need to mention that?â
âLadies love a chef,â he says simply, letting a familiar song thrum into the woody kitchen. âAnd I love ladies.â
âOkay, slag.â
âFuck off!â He begins shimmying all across the kitchen island, cranking open the oven mid-dance to check on the chicken, then continuing to clean the counter. Still he dances, and not very well, eitherâhe always claimed singing was a stronger suit of his, so you allow the fool to be a fool.
Back when you two were still together, Carlos already had a preference for 70âs disco in the kitchen, saying it brought out the dancer in him. Nothing seems to have changed in that department, and you smile with mild embarrassment and amusement watching him dance across the kitchen, using the kitchen towel as a prop and swinging it around.
Loves dancing to The Communards while baking rosemary chicken. âLet me taste the chicken, by the way,â you ask when you finish typing, hopping off the stool and walking to the oven. He continues dancing, hips cocking poorly from side to side to the old song. He retrieves a fork and cuts a piece of chicken, reviewing its doneness briefly before turning with a piece of it stabbed into the utensil.
âOpen,â he says. âItâs hot.â
Itâs too natural, the way he slowly feeds you the piece. You donât even realize it until youâre chewing, and by then heâs back to dancing to the song thatâs now reaching its end. âIt, uh,â you stutter, a bit nervous, âitâs really good.â
âOf course, I cooked it,â he says smugly. You grab a lime from the fruit bowl and throw it, hitting him in the back of the head in retaliation. He turns slowly, still dancing, lips stretched into a challenging smile.
Lando and Charles walk in ten minutes later to Carlos and you, yelping and chasing each other around the wide counter, chicken left atop it and forgotten in favor of the tag game. Charles, toting bags of fruit, faces Lando with a victorious expression. Pay up, he mouths, cocky.
â
Itâs much too hot in Miami, but you appreciate the heavy beach culture and the even heavier nightlife.
You work on the profile until your fingers hurt from typing, sending Jonathan another draft for approval. Charles joins you on a cocktail taste test at the open bar until your tongue tastes like gin and your head is a bit spinny. Both Ferrari drivers end up having a shitload of pictures of you sleeping on the leather couch, enough that Lewis ends up getting ahold of them, too.
Itâs a 2-3, in the end, with P1 going to Max. The latter throws a party at some place along the beach strip, invites you in one of the only conversations youâve ever shared with the guy so far. He seems a bit unfriendly, but when you walk into the exclusive club later that night, you find him doing a handstand in front of a beer keg, so thatâs that.
FUCK YEAH! Max hollers, following it with a howl so happy it reverbrates in your ears. Itâs crowded everywhere, and youâre pretty sure Lewis isnât here, so you spend a few minutes roaming around, getting a good grip on the vibe of the place.
Itâs Carlos who finds you in the middle of the dance floor, nursing yet another drink to aid your lack of social skills. His voice is rough in your ear and it smells like a JĂ€gerbomb, a low laugh escaping it right after. âAll alone?â
âUnfortunately,â you tease, turning to face him. âMan, I thought guys were confident in Florida.â
âCuidado,â he warns, smiling. âThis dress is pretty difficult to resist.â His tongueâs definitely been loosened by shots, his eyes half-lidded and looking you up and down. You laugh, raising one eyebrow at the sudden flirty tone, but welcoming it nonetheless, depositing your now empty glass on whatever cocktail table is nearest. Who said you were sober?Â
âNobodyâs inviting me, so why donât you and I dance instead?â
He licks over his lipsâhe never seems to keep his tongue in his mouthâand winks, nodding.
And here in Miami, through the strobing purple lights of this ridiculously expensive club, you wrap your arms around his neck and dance to whatever Calvin Harris song is blaring through the bass.
His hands are all over you, loosening your stiff stature; they wring into the fabric of your obejctively too-short dress, raking it up a bit. You lean back and he leans forward, following you, drawn into you, your noses pressed together and your eyes meeting. Your breath heightens, holds, your fingers moving to his long hair and holding him close to you.
His hand moves over your ass, pulling you in. He smiles, pokes his tongue into his cheek, and you giggle, almost causing your lips to touch. Your mind is haywire from the alcohol, but you canât really bring yourself to care. The warmth grows between you, closer and closer, the dynamic easyâ
And then someone spills their drink on both your feet, causing you two to break apart and laugh off the tension instead. Youâd almost fucking kissed. However youâre going to tell this to Lewis, you donât even know.
And youâre not entirely sure, you think as you rinse whiskey and bile off the tip of your heel in the bathroom, how it sounds like to write Sainz and I almost made out in public on the GQ profile.
â
Nick emails you directly to ask if Carlos can do some test shoots in Miami for the profile cover.
You convince him to agree, even if he thinks heâs no good in front of a camera, and you two show up to a mostly empty warehouse studio. Thereâs a white backdrop situated toward the back and a tiny-sized crew of people working.
âHi. Is this for GQ?â You ask the photographer. âTest shots?â
âOh, hi.â He stands and shakes your hand. âIâm Luke. Big fan of your work, by the way. So the concept today is just plain shirt, long hair, gorgeous face, white background. Good?â
âBueno,â Carlos says behind you with a smile.
You sit on a chair a few metres behind Luke while he works, watching the shots pop up on his screen every time the shutter clicks. As it turns out, Carlos is a brilliant liar, because every single shotâeven one where he was fixing a wrinkle in his teeâlooks perfectly usable anyway. Sainz is a natural stunner, you jot down.
Itâs a bit awkward to admit you canât help but stare, but his face is undeniably handsome, especially when heâs in front of the camera. Thankfully for you, and heavily owed to Carlosâ natural skill for modeling, the ordealâs over in less than thirty minutes, and you begin preparing your stuff to leave.
âOh, crap. I forgot I had to do a test bridal shoot for R&Bâs wedding anniversary in September.â Luke sighs, clicking through the photos rapidly.
âR&B. The⊠music genre?â You ask, confused and toting your bag on your shoulder.
âSilly! Ryan and Blake. As in, Reynolds and Lively? They plan their photoshoots way in advance, and they always need sample poses to choose from.â
âOh, I get it.â You smile. âWell, weâre sorry for keeping you.â
âYouââhe stops both you and Carlos, pacing in frontââyou two wouldnât⊠mind, would you?â
âMind⊠mind what, now?â Your eyes flit toward Carlosâ and you both laugh nervously.
âBeing my mannequins for the bridal shoot!â
Both of you balk, making up all kinds of excuses, but as fate would have it, Luke is very convincing and youâre against the backdrop after five minutes of persuasion. He directs you into different silly, quirky posesâa piggyback ride both ways, smiling goofily, the like. Carlos canât stop laughing every time the shutter clicks, at how silly the two of you must look.Â
Luke plays some music to get you both looser, and directs you into a few mocking dance poses. Then he directs you in a partners-in-crime pose, which you love the outcome of. Okay, last one, newlyweds, he says. Carlos, why donât you get behind her and wrap your arms around her waist?
You clear your throat, letting him do so anyway, his hands big around your frame. âCareful,â you whisper when heâs right behind you. Luke raises an inquisitive brow behind the camera, watches your chemistry unfold through the viewfinder. Your breath hitches a little, but you swallow the nerves.
Look into his eyes, Luke says. So you do, meet them, force yourself not to look away for once and just stare. Itâd been easy to do this, because you could just as easily break the stare, but now itâs different. Your eyes flutter, and his stay unblinking.Â
Itâs like that for a minute, just staring, like all the things you want to say can communicate themselves through eye contact alone. Another twenty seconds pass before Luke coughs, breaking the moment.
âI said we were good like a minute ago, guys,â he says knowingly, packing up with a smirk.
â
Lewis advises you to avert your pent up âromanticâ tension to another boy. Itâs difficult, but you challenge yourself to find somebody anyway, maybe outside of racing, to use your extra paddock pass (courtesy of Mattia) on. The guys in your DMs are all skeevy, or youâve unfortunately ghosted them, so theyâre all out.
After some searching, you end up using your extra pass in Spain, and for James, a Sky Sports sound editor for streamed football games. Heâs British and a huge Tottenham fan who you met during drinks with a few reporters the month prior. Not bad, but not necessarily your type; at this point, though, youâll take anybody above the bare minimum. And James is above itâa gentleman, kind, funny in the quaint English way. He could be taller, but you find him charming enough.
Noise flows through the paddock, chatter and cheering and interviews. âThis is so cool,â says James animatedly. âI feel like a regular Schumacher.â
You give a phony, flirty laugh and enter the Ferrari hospitality, raking your hair backwards. âIâm going to get something real quick, okay? Stay putâŠâ You point at a lone chair. âOver there.â
âAlright,â he says with a smile. âI canât roam arouâ?â
âNo!â You say, a tad too quickly. âI mean, sorry. Donât. Just. Iâll be back really quickly.â Before you can even retrieve your phone charger from Carlosâ room, the owner himself walks into the area, squirting water into his mouth and furrowing his eyebrows together when he sees you standing beside a stranger.
âHi,â Carlos says, a bit bluntly. His eyes are darting everywhere but at you, lingering a bit too distastefully on Jamesâ timid figure. âYou are?â
âHer date,â James says with a nervous laugh, pointing a thumb towards you. âJames. Huge fan of you. Of the team.â
âSure.â He offers a tight-lipped smile, hand meeting Jamesâ outstretched one to form a polite handshake.
Itâs awkward, is what it isâawkward and stuffy and Carlos wonât look at you. He clenches his jaw a little, smiles, looks up and down. âYou, uh⊠how long have you guys beenâŠ?â He waves a finger in between the both of you, almost fearfully, like the answer will cast him into ashes.
âNotânot long, really.â James laughs again to relieve the tension that seeps across the room. âA month?â
âA month?â Carlos repeats, arms crossed.
âWe havenât even, like, had seââ
âThatâsââ you cut in, sharp and apologetic, âwow, thatâs plenty. Thanks, James. Could you get us some drinks? Iâll have a beer.â
âItâs one-thirty,â he says.
âYeah,â you respond. âA beer.â
He leaves you both alone sheepishly, and you turn to face Carlosâ intense expression.
His arms are crossed and he rakes a hand through his hairâbut he doesnât say anything. Why should he, anyway, he thinks to himself, staring at you. You wore your hair in a ponytail today, so he sees more of your pretty face. Oh and so does James. Pendejo.
âAre you okay?â You ask, even if he knows you know whatâs up.
âTotally. Muy bien.â He shrugs, drinking water again. âShould I not be?â
âNever said that,â you say, raising both eyebrows.Â
âOkay. Well enjoy the beer.â
So heâs jealous. Fine, sue him. Heâs jealous of the British gangly guy you thought was good enough to invite onto the paddock. Barely even made a lasting impression. He gives a small, phony smile and walks back, meeting Charles along the way.
âYou look like youâve just seen a ghost, mate,â says the younger, slinging an arm over his shoulder. âMaybe the ghost of James?â He flicks the guyâs forehead, laughing.
P4, it ends up being. Not nearly good enough. But James is the first to say, âCongratulations, hombre!â in a God awful accent, so it becomes ten times worse, really.
â
âAlright guys, Carlos and I here today with some members of our team, and weâre going to play some fun trivia games.â Charlesâ eyes read from the signboard behind the camera, his amusement wholly unscripted as he looks from you to Andrea and back to Carlos.
You honestly donât know why you agreed to this. It might have been Lewisâ gentle persuasion or your bossâ overenthusiastic persistent voice, or the sleepiness thatâs been wearing you down and boggling your mind lately, orâand itâs probably thisâthe fact that James ghosted you after Spain, because you âclearly have a thing with Sainz, and I donât wanna be a homewrecker.â Whatever it is, youâre apparently a guest on the CÂČ Challenge segment.Â
Today is a trivia game against Charles and Andrea, and youâve all been given a general guide to what the questions entailâmath, music, general knowledge, and one scripted Ferrari question at the end. The structure is fairly basic; each team member gets to answer one at a time, both contributing to overall pointsâand no coaching allowed, for some odd reason.
Charles is a little shit, so heâs made an off-camera bet: loser should treat winner to a round of shots at the next afterparty/get-together. Andâwho are you kidding, reallyâCarlos is also a little shit, so heâs game for the bet and has fired you both up to win, spouting Ferrari trivia in your ear should it come up.
âI got it,â you say snappily when he hasnât stopped pestering you for five straight minutes. âI got it.â
âOh, did you got it?â He asks sassily. âOkay. When did Ferraââ
âWeâre starting in three,â says the cameraman in Spanish, Italian, then finally English.
He holds three fingers up and you hug your tiny dry erase board closer to your torso, readying your camera smile. The videoâand the gameâstart off well enough, a quickfire competition developing between the two teams that infects you and Andrea quickly.Â
âStay calm and collected,â Carlos proclaims, lips stretched into a proud smile. âOur team motto.â He elbows your side and you roll your eyes with a smile, teasing.Â
âI think itâs, ah, alwaysâalways cheat, mate,â Charles protests, pointing an accusatory finger.Â
âYou are sooooâtch, I propose we kick Charles for poor sportsmanship,â retorts your teammate, laughing. The force of his laughter shakes the stool he sits on and you bite back a smile, remaining relatively quiet like youâve been since the start of the video.
The remainder of the game passes with Carlos and Charles neck and neck, you and Andrea working overtime to make sure your teams donât lose the bet. Eventually it boils down to one question, which Carlos is in charge of answering. Behind the camera, the producer raises a signboard and reads it out: We all know CÂČ. What is eight squared?
What a relief, you think. Theyâve basically handed the win to you and Carlos on a silver platter. You wait, bumbling in your seat and raising an L sign toward Charles, who sticks his tongue out in response. Excitedly, you watch Carlos cheer for himself and finish writing, turning the board inch by inch until you all see the answer he has written on it.
Everyone stares. Then: âTeam Charles wins!â
âQue?!â Carlos blinks, scandalized and a bit amused. He stares at the question then at his answer then, as if dreading the laser eyes, at you. Your eyes narrow, disappointed.
âCarlos. What is eight squared?â
âEight squared. Eight, and you take another eight, andâitâs right here.â A tan finger points firmly at the number written messily, square in the middle of the whiteboard.
16
âEres un tonto,â you quip, remembering bits of teasing youâd used on him years before. âCarlos, itâs 64. Eight times eight, not eight times two.â
âAy, putaââ He shuts his eyes and laughs. âLo siento! Sorry, sorry. Sorry! I cost us the win.â
Across you, Charles is coaxing a much more begrudged Andrea into a childish victory dance, pulling his arms up and down to convey the joy of winning. You sigh exasperatedly, but smile . For what it was worth, you had a great game anyway. The noise grows, and you watch the producers pack up, the cameraman parting from the camera for a moment to converse with one of them.
Left alone with you for a bit, Carlos lets his voice slip into a quieter one. âSorry again. I forgot.â
âForgot?â Your brows furrow, confused. âWhat?â
âThat, you knowââhe points at the lonely 16 on the whiteboard he holdsââitâs supposed to be 64.â
 âOh.â You laugh, a light sound. âWhaaat?! Itâs not that deep, Carlos. Seriously, donât worry about it. It was all fun.â
âWell, Iâm glad you had fun,â he says softly, smiling.
âYeah, me too,â you say, unable to hide your smile. You stay like that for a bit, something blooming in the pit of your stomach you canâtâand refuse toâname.
â
You get two days off, and Charles had suggested you all go to Paris before you go to Cannes, where the Ferrari team is apparently expected for a meeting before Monaco. Youâre the one whoâd said yes first, even if Carlos seemed to hesitate; he had asked why, to which you responded youâd never been before.
Youâd read about it, watched about it, and like every other human on Earth, seen pictures of it. But youâd never been to Paris; work placed you mostly in London, sometimes South America, other times Italy. But Paris was never a destination. So Carlos allowed the greenlight and you flew, with Lando, Pierre, and Esteban tagging along for shits and giggles.
âIâve waited my whole life for my Eiffel Tower moment,â you say, not even trying to hide your wonder. Carlos got the best room for himself, but invited you in, for the view. He doesnât tell you he went through hell and back to get precisely this room, so you could peek inside and see the tower.
âWell, youâre here now.â He wedges the hotel balcony door open and walks toward the railing. You follow suit, arms crossed over your torso, eyes stuck on the view. âHow is it?â
âItâs as beautiful as I imagined it to be,â you confess honestly, eyes still stuck on the tower, the way it stands alone and glittering against the black of night. ClichĂ© as it is, you feel like youâve checked one huge box off your bucket list, staring at the landmark like itâs going to evaporate into thin air.Â
Beside you, Carlos hums in agreement, but his gaze is stuck on something else. âI know.â
âOh, do you?â You laugh. âAre you in the business of admiring beautiful things?â You tease, looking up at the stars.
Sensing his eyes on you, you slowly avert your gaze until your eyes meet. The light reflects in his eyes, and they meet yours blindingly, beautiful, luring you closer. The joking tone of your words is caught in your throat, desert dry, your lips parted to spout words youâve now forgotten, lost track of.
Your silhouettes dance against the lights of the city below, two figures admiring the other. His eyes flicker down to your lips, linger there a second too long. You stumble closer, your foot touching his. ââŠParis.â The words struggle to leave but they do, quietly, an admission of guilt. âItâs always reminded me of you.â
 âNot Spain?â He asks, leveling your volume. Youâre closer, so close you feel his breath fan soft against your own face. His voice is deep, accented so thickly, the way it is when he talks with you because he falls into a familiar rhythm of knowing youâll decipher whatever he has to say.
You giggle, a low, breathy sound. A barely there shake of your head. âI⊠love it so much, is why. Always have.â
Had there been a pedestrian across the street who looked just a few floors upward, they wouldâve found the both of you there, smiling foolishly, blanketed by the night sparkles of the Eiffel Tower and the rest of the city. They wouldâve seen the way Carlos leaned in, his eyes on yours and then on your lips, the way you nodded in silent, warm invitation. Come closer, you seem to say. Donât stray any further.
A lock of your hair touches his jaw, from how close you two are. So close. Everything smells like him, like the musky woody perfume he wears, the detergent he uses. All of that, and everything underneath. The scent of him. Just him.Â
You hold your breath when you both lean in, eyes fluttering shut and waiting, waiting for his lips to meet yours.
The door shakes with several knocks, Landoâs voice seeping from the other side of it. âMate, weâre gonna be late for dinner!â He says boredly, letting his fist collide with it a few more times for good measure.
Instantly, you and Carlos separate, both of you clearing your throats, rushed flimsy excuses escaping your mouths at the same time. Youâre warm all over, the excitement, the nerves, tapering off into nothing as you walk back inside the room, busying yourselves with anything. Oh, I need to check if Jonathanâs emailed me. Oh, let me go answer the door.
Lando is waiting, expectant, on the other side when Carlos pries the door open. âMate! Dinner! I texted you like twenty minutes ago and yâoh.â He spots you sitting at one of the lounge chairs in the room, and immediately his brows raise. âHey, dude. Youâre here?â
âYeah, to, uhâto get Carlos to OK some edits,â you say with a smile, hoping your nonchalance isnât too shaky. âI needed to get a draft in by three hours ago, so.â
âOh. Right, obviously.â His eyes narrow a little, but he doesnât relax much, gaze suspicious and a bit beguiled. âWell, if youâre not busy, weâre having dinner?â
âIâm good,â you decline, a touch too quickly. âItâs getting late.â
âAlright, well it was a courtesy invite, you dipshit,â Lando teases, and everything feels a bit more normal. You just flip him off, and Carlos retrieves his coat, eyes still not meeting yours when you all exit at the same time. Lando makes up for the hole in the conversation, droning on and on about the restaurant theyâre going to, and how good it seems to be.
The elevator ride is equally charged, and you spend it humming and interjecting Landoâs words to come across as unfazed, even if youâre so totally not. Once youâre alone you finally let big exhales leave you. You donât know if itâs from the anxiety of almost being caught, or the anxiety from the kiss unfinished.
â
LOVE the latest draft, Nick & I both. Could we get a deeper angle? Something re: regrets? Would really tie it together! Best, J
âHuh. Do you have any regrets?â You ask, tearing your eyes away from the short email. Next to you, Carlos nods his head slowly. Youâre on the beach in Cannes, taking time off before the meeting and people-watching. Charles had joined you for a good half hour before leaving to sleep in the hotel instead, leaving you two to bask in the now setting sun.
âEveryone does, no?â He stretches a bit. The topic is tense. âBut yes, I have some specific ones.â
âLike?â You ask weakly.
âI was stupid when I was younger. More immature, more forgetful. You grow older and you think of all the things you couldâve done right, years too late. Thereâs a proverb I heard once that goesâcamarĂłn que se duerme se lo lleva la corriente. It means toâto stay alert. Donât let things pass you by.â
âAnd do you think you followed that advice?â
His eyes meet yours. âDo you?â
â
Itâs quiet when Carlos walks inside your flat, and already his heart begins to drain, filling with guilt.
He steps over the creaky floorboard, notices your car keys on the table, your jacket haphazardly slung over the rack, your Chanel bag half-open on the dinner table beside an empty wine glass and a sweaty bottle of Cheval Blanc. The bedroom doorâs half-open, light bleeding into the dark rest-of-the-place, and when he gently pushes the door to get in, the sight he faces is crushing.
ââŠEstĂĄs bien?â
You face the window, your back to him, in a beautiful, beautiful black dress. Your hair had been up, but itâs unpinned now, falling in loose, messy waves. You hiccup, and then tense. Feigning nonchalance, you croak out, âYeah, yeah.â
âIâm sorry,â he says honestly. âI didnât know the thing was earlier.â His eyes hover to the glass award on the bed, one youâd hoped he would watch you receive tonight.
âI said Iâm fine,â you say. âJustââyou sniffleââitâs fine, Carlos, just get out.â
Youâre standoffish, and cold, but Carlos knows youâre incredibly hurt. In an attempt to try and coerce a conversation, he stays. âLetâs have dinner tomorrow,â he suggests in a low voice. âOn me. Right? To celebrate.â
âLeave me alone, Carlos.â
âI wanted to go,â he insists. âI had a meeting that ended late, andââ
âIt doesnât fucking matter,â you assert, turning. Youâve clearly been crying hard, your face flushed and shiny, a few rogue tears still on your chin. âJust go.â
âI know how much this mattered to you.â
âAnd yet you didnât go.â You sniff, wiping fruitlessly at your face. âCarlos, justâŠâ Your voice sounds thin, heartbroken, worn with pain and real tiredness.Â
âCut me some slack.â Carlos argues softly.
âNo, I just⊠I donât even know how things got to this point, Carlos. We used to be so much happier. But now, itâs like I have to demand for your time like everyone else does. Now, IâI cook, I plan dinner, I put my own career on the back burner so I can spend more time with you even if Iâve gotten calls, promotions that you donât even ever⊠ever ask about, just everything. I donât think⊠I donât feel you love me that way. Care for me, that way. Youâve never shown it, not lately especially.â
âYou shouldâve told me,â he says, hurt.
âThis kind of thing, itâŠâ you shake your head, wiping your clammy hands on the black silk. âIt doesnât need to be said.â
âLet me make it up to you.â He steps closer but youâre quicker, almost stumbling in your rush to avoid him.
âNo,â you protest, âjust go, Carlos, just go. Get out and close the door.â
âCariñoââ
âGo,â you say, voice hard with contempt. You refuse to meet his pleading eyes. âGo, Carlos.â
So he does.
He passes by, again, your handbag, with the sleek travel-sized bottle of Santal 33 you keep with you always peeking out, and the Cheval Blanc heâd bought you a few months prior, and the jacket youâd bought with his approval almost a year ago. He lingers in his car for a minute, the rain pelting the Golf noisily.Â
He drives off, wiping tears from his own face.
And maybe, had he stayed a little longer, he wouldâve seen you tearfully emerge from the elevator, into the lobby, then out into the rain, still in your black dress, and let yourself get soaked waiting for him to come back, refusing to believe heâd even let himself leave you so broken.
â
You play Uno to pass the time, your last night in Cannes.
Heâs won two games in a row at this point, and youâre almost 100% sure he has a plus four card in his hand, so you play a bit more deliberately, eyeing him with a challenging glint in your eyes. Youâre a bit watered down by your earlier conversation, but you feign nonchalance anyway.
Blue 2. Blue 5. Green 5. Then finally, he slaps it onto the deckâa plus four card. âOh, come on, Carlos,â you say, almost actually irritated.
âIâll kiss it better,â he says. Suddenly overwhelmed, you push yourself off the counter and storm out.
He follows you, stumbling into the empty balcony and softly shutting the door, voice still colored with laughter. âIâm sorry! I didnât know youâd be so upset about theââ
You barely hear the rest of his clearly half-hearted, humorous apology. It doesnât matter to you.
What does matter is everything from the years past crashing on your shoulders like debris, like rain, finally giving under the weight of being so close to him again. Everything. The tangled fog of your relationship, the start, the middle, the terrible end neither of you wanted. You pulsed with want, with yearning, with sadness.
So you ask yourself why? Why? Why? Why couldnât he have come back? More importantlyâwhy did he let you go so easily?
The truth is, youâve drowned yourself in work so long youâve forgotten what itâs like to feel, to be felt. And if Carlos is doing this, all this, all the touching and the tension and the debris and the rain that crash on you like a bruising, torrential storm, for his own pleasure, like this is all a game, then youâve yearned for nothing.
âThis isnât about the game, Carlos!â It heaves itself out of you in a half-sob, carried by the wind.
He stopsâstops walking, stops smiling. Just stops and stares, brows knitted with concern. You refuse to look at him, staring instead at the skyline, arms crossed. The view blurs with tears, lights meshing together prettily.
He stutters your name out in a feeble response. Itâs mortifying, the way you start to cry when it leaves his mouth.
You turn then, willing your lips to stop quivering. âGood for you,â you say shakily, âyou canâyou can fool around, kiss me like itâs nothing, pretend like we never even mattered so you can make jokes about how weâve ended up here again, back, together.â You inhale, but itâs no use; youâre crying even as you speak. âAnd Iâll laugh, because it can be funny, you know, fuck it. But⊠Iâm soââ
The wanting shows, in moments like this. Wanting love, wanting comfort, wanting warmth, an escape from work and stress and life. You know how it feels, to be loved. Youâd been familiar with it, at some point. You want it again, the ache, the kiss, the pain of it all. More than that, you want him. For just a moment. But all this wanting is so exhausting.
You want this profile to be over. You want to pull him close and tell him how proud you are, but also how hurt you are. You want Spain. You miss Paris. Everything, everything, every memory, every single painful loving thing bursts inside you.
ââtired.â You nod your head, licking tears that have perched on your lip, smiling humorlessly, shrugging. âIâmâIâm tired, and lonely, and being around you makes it worse. Being around you hurts me. It hurts you. This profile was a bad idea, and I shouldâve trashed this the moment I learned Iâd be covering you. Because I knew then it wouldâve turned to shit, and I was right.â
He stares, unmoving. He remembers, too. Heâd tell you everything if the words clicked just right. But they never do; they tangle like cotton balls in his throat before he can kneel and name everything he remembers, everything he loved about the two of you. Cariño. Just be mine, tell me everything, tell me you love me.
You wipe a hand over your face. âLetâs just let this go already. You know, we really were good for a while. This⊠this is maybe just one of those things where we made it in another life, but not this one.â
At his returned silence, you nod, then walk quietly past him and back into the room.
Itâs just as empty as youâd left it, dim and lit only by the warm light above the kitchen counter. Your forgotten Uno game lies on the same spot, beside the two empty wine glasses. You stare for a second. Life had been different when heâd lay down his cards just minutes ago.
A coat is tugged from in between couch cushions, your heels from by the door hastily pulled on. Every movement feels heavy, like sandbags are tied to your limbs, your tongue, your eyelids. You turn, one last time, to see the moment suspended in timeâand you meet his eyes. Even across the room you feel like youâre drowning in them, dark and solemn.Â
âWait,â he says, and even with just one syllable heâs managed to stop your world from turning again. âYouâre right. Everything you said. When Iâm around you, I hurt. Iâm reminded of how awful I was then. Itâs painful to be together.â
Eyes meet, eyes blink, eyes close.
âBut you didnât trash the feature. And I still enjoy your company. You could be covering Rafael Nadal or whoever right now. I could be in a jet to Japan. But you and I are here, are we not?â
Only you. Itâs only you.
âIâve missed you.â It rips through him. âI want to be here with you. I want to make the pain go away, so let me.â
âItâs useless,â you protest, tearily. âThis wonât work. Iâll get mad, youâll get fed up, Iâll get bored, youâll put work before us.â
âOkay.â He paces toward you, nearer and nearer, closing the distance between you both. âIâll make it work.â
âCarlos,â you weep, âI donât know why you donât get it. Life sucks. And all we get are little moments where things are⊠are good. So donât waste the moments like this. Letâs not waste the moments on this.â
âYouâre not a waste,â he saysâand you crumple into his arms, worn, exhausted.
A knot in your heart is slowly unraveling itself. Youâve waited, yearned for so long, and finally youâre in his arms again, with the kind of quiet resolution only he would understand. You left the lights on for him. Youâd do it again, but you donât have to.
You bury your head in his chest, a chorus of apologies leaving him. Iâm sorry, he says. Iâm sorry, I love you. Iâm sorry. Iâm sorry. Everything.
I love you, you say weakly. I love you, thatâs enough. I waited for this to leave, but all it did was hide. The love has yet to pass. It never will.
â
âYours really is the best selling one!â Nick pulls you in for a hug. âWe have Nadal and CR7 on the roster, but Sainzâs is selling like crazy. Your writing is justââ He kisses his fingers. âYou are amazing.â
âYou flatter me,â you reply gracefully, letting him pull you into another embrace but prying him off a bit faster. You donât need another Jonathan-esque freakout in the middle of the room.
The GQ party, six months later, almost a mirror of the fundraiser just a few months ago. Only this time, youâre not tacked onto Lewis, and youâre not buzzing with nerves (as much). You had run into Lewis when you entered, and Charles too, and Lando when he spotted you, but none of them are your plus ones to this event.
Your profile is the talk of the journalism scene. Nobody can shut up about it, and it thrills you, excites you, to be witnessing your work be recognized beside Carlos himself. He brings you a glass of champagne and presses a kiss to your cheekbone, smiling against it.
Neither of you notice Lando and Charles behind you, watching like hawks. The elder cackles, presents his hand like a sacrifice and turns to the Brit. âAha.What did I tell you, chat?â
âFive hundred euros,â moans Lando, slapping a bunch of bills onto it. âYouâre an intuitive prick.â
âThose two are soulmates.â They stare at your foolish figures, smiling like idiots, high-fiving even. âThe kind thatâll always, always find their way back to each other. Always.â
Lando shrugs. âHey, honestly, for once, Iâm glad I lost a bet.â
âI look great on the cover,â Carlos says, both of you staring at the screenâs display of it.Â
âShut up,â you smile, interlocking your fingers. âWell, my writing looks great inside.â
âReally does,â he says. âIâm so, so proud of you, cariño.â
âProud of me?â You tease, staring up at him. âYou made the last minute title change that caused fans to go crazy.â You both turn to stare at it displayed on the screen, smiling fondly.
Carlos Sainzâon racing, gracious defeat, and refinding love.
#f1#carlos sainz#carlos sainz drabble#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz imagines#carlos sainz fanfic#f1 x reader#carlos sainz x reader
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Full fic??
Iâve read that Logan S. felt really lonely being the only American in F1. Like, he wasnât completely accepted in the grid. Maybe he has an overprotective older sister who is a professional soccer player (like World Cup level good) who finally has time to attend his races. She dislikes most of the grid, except Alex and Oscar, for how they treated her brother. quick to defend Logan and even as far as annihilate them during the annual driver soccer match to prove a point. Im thinking G. Russel pairing due to Logan living in England. he wins her over by treating logan right, acknowledging he could have been welcoming, etc. Just a thought!
OKAY I HONESTLY LOVED THIS! IT WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE (let me know if you want a part 2, because it is a bit of an interesting ending haha)
Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.
also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better
edit: i wrote part 2 - it is here
part 3 is here
George Russell x reader, logan sargeant x sister!reader
---
Y/N loves her brother, she really does. Yeah, sheâs tried to get to a few of his F2 rounds, but with her soccer taking her around the world, she has had very little time. She has the entire month off though, so what better to do than visit her brother at his home grand prix. Miami is always a party, so maybe she could let loose for a bit, try and relax, and find a guy.
This is quickly vetoed when she finds Logan cooped up in his drivers room. While most people would think that he was excited for the race, most people werenât Loganâs sister. She could tell he was thinking too hard about something, and it wasnât good.
âHey Logie Bear! Whatcha thinking about?â She tried to appear happy, but she could see that Loganâs smile did not reach his eyes
âNothing, just excited for the race, the car is quick, just aiming for some points, hoping for a safety car. The garage is over there, sorry I have to warm up.â Y/N looked up as Benny entered the room and Logan stood up. She could tell how closed up he was, how he didnât want to talk at all
âOkay, weâll talk after the race Logan! Good luck, you'll smash it!â Y/N walked out of the drivers room towards the garage seeing the chaos of it.
Y/N watched as Logan apologised over again and again to his engineer for not making up any more places. She stood there listening to his engineer reassure her younger brother. She eventually decided that she couldnât listen to it anymore and decided to wait in his garage room.
When he walked in, Y/N could tell he wasnât sure whether to throw stuff or cry.Â
âHey, hey, come here! Itâs okay, itâs okay!â She opened her arms and sat down as Logan fell down into them and hugged her baby brother, as he started talking the words just rushed out
âI just wanted to prove that I deserve to be here, feel like Iâm a part of the paddock.â Logan hugged his sister back tightly, hesitating slightly.
âWhat do you mean? Of course youâre a part of the paddock, youâve got your seat, yâknow?â Y/N was confused as to what her brother meant, from what she had seen, he was welcomed warmly by everyone.
âYeah but, Iâm never invited to the grid parties, no one really ever talks to me, except Alex and Oscar, and Oscar is getting into the rest of the grid through Lando, and Alex is only really talking to me because I mean, heâs my teammate we have to be friends, and I just want everyone to like me⊠so I thought maybe if I got some points and good overtakes, then people would like me..â
âOh, Logie⊠Itâll be okay. If they donât like you then I think theyâre just idiots, but they wonât. Theyâll warm up to you, I promise.â
---
George watched as Y/N sprinted up and down. Okay the F1 team was never going to win, particularly when multiple women who were playing in the world cup were playing on the opposition team, but âSargeantâ (who also had the same name as the rookie driver this year, who was sitting in the stands) was dominating, she had more goals then all of the f1 team, so of course the celebrity team won 4-1. Sheâd almost immediately jumped into the stands once the referee blew the whistle and started talking to Logan, maybe the kid got married young and just didnât want anyone to realise.Â
Although she looked quite similar to Logan, so maybe his sister instead. Either way, she did not seem to like them, she called them all dickheads and shoved them over a few times. Georgeâs knees were sore. But she was still pretty. So he approached Logan and the girl.
âHello! Iâm George andâŠâ
âIâm pretty sure my brother knows your name, Georgie! Why donât you say hello to him?â
âY/N-â
âNo. Say hi to Logan, George.â She smiled, but it didnât reach her eyes, almost forced.
âHey Logan! Looking forward to the grand prix this weekend?â
âUhhhh⊠yeah. â He turned back to Y/N âIâve got some stuff to do, so you can make your way back. See ya!â
As soon as Logan was out of listening range, Y/N pulled George in and started whispering, âListen, I donât know what problem you have my brother, but you need to get over it ASAP, understood?â
âI.. donât have a problem with your brother.â
âWell, then why is he telling me that there have been 2 people, Oscar and Alex, who have actually welcomed him to F1. Everyone else has snubbed him and he doesnât understand why you donât like him. Heâs lonely. So fucking sort your shit out.â
George stood there, mouth gaping as she stormed off to grab her bag and then sprinted after Logan. He could almost hear the f1 team laughing at his failed attempt at flirting, but all he could think about âwas what she said true?ââ
---
Y/N was going to cry.
She could see Logan in the family and friends box, hands over his mouth, eyes glassy.
That corner kick shouldâve gone in, she thought, we had so many chances and we still fucked it all. Couldnât even give Megs a proper farewell.
She walks slowly over to her younger brother and let his arms wrap around her
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry. Dragged you halfway âround the world when you shouldâve been training only to lose the first game.â
âHey, hey, itâs okay, donât worry about it. Go pack up, we can head home and spend some time in London relaxing. Iâve got next week off before I need to be back in the factory.â
â
Y/N was awoken by a knock on the front door. Hearing Logan snoring from his bedroom, she got up off the couch, rubbing her eyes and opened the door.
Of all the people she was expecting to see, George Russell wouldâve been just about the last on her list âUhh, hey?â
âOh, morning! Is your brother up?â
Y/n paused for a moment to let George hear the snores coming from Loganâs bedroom. âYeah, no, sorry. I can pass on a message?â
âOh, No I was just going to offer if he was still up to go on a morning jog with him, but as he isnâtâŠâ
âYou been doing this often?â
âAlmost every week weâve been in town. I donât think he understands what or why Iâm doing this. But, heâs a good kid, opens up a bit when you talk to him. He likes you, respects you a lot for 2 siblings pursuing their sport across the globe.â
âIâll make some breakfast and you can stay til Logan wakes up, okay? As a thanks for looking out for him. Hard for me to do from across the globe.â Y/N looked tense, with an almost forced smile. She looked awkward, before stepping back, holding the door open so George could come in.
---
âLOGAN SARGEANT!â
âHello, dear sister, what do you want?â
âYOU GOT POINTS!â
âI think you must have watched a different grand prix, I got P12.â
âHamilton and Leclerc got disqualified, something about wood, but you got points!â
âOH MY! AHHH! I had no idea, oh god!â
âYEAH! MY LITTLE BRO FINALLY GETTING F1 POINTS! WOOHOO! We must celebrate when weâre both in town!â
âAHH! Shit, wait I think people are coming in, give me a sec.
Youâre on speaker dear sis, Alex, Oscar and George are here.â
âHELLO OSCAR! HI ALEX! HI GEORGE! DID SOMEONE BRING CHAMPAGNE???â
---
Y/N looks at the buzzing phone on her bedside table. Well clearly she had grabbed Loganâs phone before bed last night. She looked at the contact name
âGeorge - probably calling about something from the GDPA.â
She picked up.
âBefore you start talking, Iâm not Logan and I have not signed any NDAs related to his contract so, donât talk to me.â
âHi Y/N, do you know where Logan is?â Georgeâs voice was way too cheery for however fucking early it is right now.
âYeah heâs in his bedroom, he grabbed my phone and I grabbed his, why?â Y/N swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, still rubbing her eyes.
âOh, can you come answer the door?â
âThe door, why?â Y/N got up, and walked to her front door and opened the door to âŠnothing.
âGeorge, are you pulling a prank on me? Thereâs nothing at the door.â
âYou havenât opened the door!â
âGeorge⊠Logan and I are in Florida for Christmas. Iâm guessing youâre in London.â
âOhâŠyes. Bugger. I came to congratulate him on his contract renewal and so now Iâve got food and flowers and stuff and heâs not here!â
âIf you go round the block to 20 XXX Close, thereâs a single mom there, who will appreciate some Christmas cheer Georgie.â
âOh, thank you. Iâll send it over.â
âWhy were you congratulating Logan, George? I didnât think you cared. Only Alex and Oscar have reached out so far.â
âI..I remember what you said at the soccer match, about Logan feeling ostracised by all of us. So Iâve been trying to make him feel welcomed⊠not just because you said that, and I like you, but also because I kinda realised weâd all be failing him as a grid, so i thought if I started it, maybe others would catch on. It didnât work, but I think he feels more included.â
âThatâs very nice of you Georgie. Iâll pass on your congrats. Now itâs like 7am here, and I didnât need to be awake today, so i will be heading back to bed. Night Georgie boy.â
#f1 fic#miloformula123fan#f1 x reader#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant#f1 fanfic#logan sargeant x you#george russell x reader#george russell#george russell x you
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Secret Lovers Pt. 2
Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley X Wife!Reader
Now Simon was no stranger to flirting, having used every pickup line he could on you, however he sometimes wasnât prepared when you would do the same to him. With that knowledge you would only do it to him when no one else was around, no one deserved to see him the way you did.
a/n:this was for everyone who voted in favor of an epilogue/part two to this fic i just want to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who read and gave feedback! warnings:drinking, some slight swearing, mainly Simon being a huge simp for his wife
After everyone had found out about your marriage with Simon all hell had broken loose, from Johnny begging for more information, to John practically running out of the room when all eyes were on him. Heâd been the first person youâd told about the engagement, asking if he would stand by Simonâs side when you became one. John was honored, knowing that youâd want him to be there for your special day. Youâd expected to feel nervous when you walked down the aisle, Simonâs eyes shining with tears as he tried, and failed, to suppress his smile. Knowing that the love of your life was waiting for you, well it meant more than anything else in the world.
It had been Kyleâs idea to head out to the pub for some dinner and drinks, and who were you to tell any of them no? Itâd been quite a while since youâd all been able to go out and let loose, and with everyone knowing about you and Simon it made things easier. So, after grabbing your purse and changing into more comfortable clothes you headed out with the boys. John downright refused to let Simon drive, saying he valued his life more than anything. You offered to drive everyone back home, saying you didnât want to drink too much anyhow. John agreed, only after heâd gotten into the driver's seat with Kyle calling shotgun. Johnny whined as he crawled into the back, scooting towards the door to give you more space in the middle. Simon wouldnât admit that he was a major manspreader, thighs wide open in the back seat. You offered to put your legs over one of his thighs if it meant giving Johnny more space to relax.
He simply waved you off, promising that he was doing perfectly fine in his own seat, even if he was definitely trying to seem smaller. You chuckled at his insistence, throwing your legs over Simonâs right thigh and cuddling into his side. It gave Johnny plenty of space to untense his body and relax. Once you reached the pub everyone would have ample space to spread out and relax, you just hoped Simon wouldnât get too rowdy by the end of the night. He never tended to, too worried about making sure you were alright, but he deserved to enjoy a night out.
âAlright, weâre here, now remember that Iâm not driving us back, Y/N will be, so when she says itâs time to go, itâs time to go.â John handed you the keys before getting out of the truck.
The rest of the men followed suit, Simon all but dragging you out and into his arms to keep any prying eyes away from you. Even though the mission youâd gone on was a success, Simon was still nervous that someone had seen you two leave together and word got to his enemies. Youâd assured him more than a million times that if anyone had seen you, you had a great team to back you up.
âThank you John! Weâll meet you inside.â You tucked the keys into your pocket, looking up at your husband.
âMmm, you look gorgeous darling.â Simon cupped your cheek gently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
âAs do you, dear husband.â You smiled into the kiss, pulling him closer to your body.
âWhat did I ever do to deserve you?â His hands wrapped around your waist, bodies pressed flush together.
âI do believe we ran into one another while getting coffee, and since youâd spilt your tea all over my blouse you wanted to apologize.â It was a day you would never truly forget.
The sky was cloudy, giving off the aura that it could possibly rain, something youâd grown accustomed to after living in Cardiff for so long. Youâd been transferred by your superiors, having taken a new job and been given your orders. You were working as a medic for the army, a necessary surgeon for anyone that got injured on base. So far they were few and far between, something youâd become almost thankful for.Â
When youâd turned to go into the coffee shop you ran straight into someone else, their tea spilling all over your brand new blouse. The hot liquid stung for a brief moment, cooling nearly instantly in the otherwise balmy air.
âShit, ouch.â You tried to pull the fabric away from your skin as best you could, not wanting to cause any further damage.
âOh my goodness, I am so sorry.â A hand cupped your shoulder, a guilty expression slowly spreading across his face.
âItâs okay, I donât think it was able to do any damage.â You glanced at the, now empty, cup in his hands.
âI had been on a call, and wasn't paying attention to where I was going.â He frowned, tossing the cup into a nearby trash bin.
You shook your head, it had been an accident and there wasnât much you could do, but unfortunately now you were soaked and smelled like earl gray tea. Granted it definitely couldâve been much, much worse, but you were more annoyed at being cold and wet.
âIf itâs not too much, can I offer to pay for your things as an apology?â It seemed harmless, but who were you to deny such a handsome stranger?
âYeah, that would be lovely.â You smiled as you followed him inside.
Youâd spent the entire time talking while waiting in line, and then sitting down to eat your scone and drink your coffee. You learned his name was Simon, and that he was part of the SAS. However you didnât have the heart to admit to him that you were actually going to be part of his team, it wasnât until John had introduced you to everyone. Simon was floored, heâd made the worst first impression a person could, and yet, you still agreed to the first date.
âThat may be true, Iâm still upset that I ruined such a pretty blouse on you though.â Simon had offered to pay for a new one, claiming it was too pretty for you to simply throw away.
You didnât tell him that youâd gotten it back home at a thrift store, a lucky find that you only ever wore to help cheer yourself up. In some part you were thankful heâd accidentally ruined your favorite blouse, had it not been for that fateful mistake, you wouldnât be standing there with him. Sure you were on the same team when needed, but Simon wasnât one to truly open up to someone right away, youâd been an exception, one in a million.
âIâm not, if losing that blouse meant I got to meet you? Well, letâs just say Iâd ruin that blouse a thousand times.â You giggled as his cheeks flushed a light pink.
Now Simon was no stranger to flirting, having used every pickup line he could on you, however he sometimes wasnât prepared when you would do the same to him. With that knowledge you would only do it to him when no one else was around, no one deserved to see him the way you did. Maybe his teammates, but that was more of a platonic type of love that they all had.
âSuch a charmer you are, why donât we head inside, Iâm sure Price is gossiping with Kyle anyway.â You were not proud to admit that you snorted at Simonâs admission.
Kyle and John gossiped like two old women with nothing better to do, they knew everyone that were in relationships on base, whoâd cheated on who, who was stealing MREâs. You name it, they knew it. You wrapped your arm around his waist, heading into the pub to find where the boys had all perched themselves. It shouldâve been obvious they would choose the largest booth considering how many people were in your group. You scooted into your seat, leaving enough space for Johnny to your left as Simon plopped down beside you.
âTwo werenât shagging outside were ya?â Johnny already had a pint in front of him, Simon narrowed his eyes at the dark lager.
âReally? Guinness?â Simon had never been a fan of the lager, saying it left an odd taste in his mouth.
âIâve seen the shit you eat, just because Guinness has more flavor than youâve ever had in your bland diet doesnât mean you can shit on it.â Everyoneâs jaw dropped, Kyle choking on the sip of his own lager heâd been trying to take.
John hid his wide grin behind his hand, struggling to contain the laughter that was trying so hard to slip through. Unfortunately you couldnât stop yourself from laughing, it was absolutely true that Simon had quite a bland diet before youâd met. It had taken some time but he was actually eating food that didnât look like it came out of the great depression.
âYouâre really sitting there laughing at me?â Simon pinched your side, your squeal echoing across the table.
âHeâs not wrong though! So, yes Iâm going to laugh.â You grabbed Simonâs hand before he could pinch you again, pressing a kiss to his lips to help distract him.
âLucky I love you little lady.â Simon pressed one more kiss to your lips and tip of your nose before relaxing in your hold.
John and Kyle had offered to get another round of drinks and food, pointedly ignoring the way Simon glared at Johnnyâs now empty pint glass. It was simply a rivalry between friends, Johnny would order something knowing that Simon hated it and vice versa. Theyâd been doing it for years, both refusing to back down and admit it was silly. And now here you sat between the two, Simon wouldnât do anything if he knew youâd get caught in the crossfire, he cared too much for your safety. A tray was laid out onto the table before Johnny, or Simon, could make any kind of retort, rendering them both speechless.
âBartender gave us shots to go along with the drinks, so enjoy boys.â Kyle wouldnât admit heâd totally flirted with her to get them for free, it was something about the Garrick charm.
Simon rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the glasses and tossing back the shot as if it was nothing more than water. God, something about that shouldnât be so attractive but for some reason you wanted to climb him like a tree.Â
Okay, you needed to cool down and enjoy the night before you could take him to bed and enjoy yourselves. Then again if he got too intoxicated he wouldnât be able to do anything, you could always wait until tomorrow when he was sober. Yeah, youâd wait until he was sober and then youâd have your way with him.
âDidnât forget about my favorite girl either.â John smiled as he placed a shirley temple in front of you.
âYouâre the best!â You happily took the drink, taking a large sip before placing the glass back onto the table.
Kyle was handing out the food carefully, making sure not to give Simon Johnnyâs buffalo wings lest there be an argument amongst everyone. You snuck the plate of mozz sticks, digging into your snack happily. John shook his head once he realized what youâd done, grabbing one off your plate and replacing it with a few of his fries. Youâd most likely have Simon get you something else later, they tended to drink a lot when they could.
The conversation was lighthearted and comfortable as you leaned into your husbandâs side, relishing in his warmth as he wrapped and arm around you. Kyle was talking about his plans for their next leave, how he was going to visit his parents and catch up with his sister. John didnât want to admit he was most likely going to have to skip his next leave, Laswell had him booked and busy. Youâd noticed that Johnny was a little more quiet than usual, having finished his plate of wings, and cleaning himself up, it was more obvious how he hadnât even spoken in almost ten minutes.
âYou alright?â You rested your hand overtop of his arm, waiting to see if he would acknowledge you.
âMmm? Yeah, Iâm alright lass.â He smiled at you, but something about it seemed off.
âWhatâre your plans for when you guys go on leave?â You wanted to include him in the conversation, seeing him look so glum broke your heart.
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, grabbing his pint and taking a large sip before turning his head to give you his full attention once more.
âI, umm, Iâll be on base the whole time, donât really have a reason to go home right now.â That wasnât what you were expecting, Johnny always left to go visit his family when on leave.
âReally? Well, if youâre not going home maybe you can stay with Simon and I?â It was a long shot, seeing each other on base was much different than staying at someoneâs home.
Simon nearly choked on his own pint, setting down the glass to slap a hand against his chest to help clear his airways. Your head whipped around, hand raised to press against his shoulder before he shook his head.
âIâm alright hun, but what did you just say?â Simon was shocked, you were inviting Johnny into your shared home? The enemy?
âOh, I asked Johnny if he wanted to come stay with us when weâre on leave, heâs not going home and since he wonât be working, unlike some, I figured he could stay with us.â It would be harmless, you had plenty of space to let one person visit.
Simon was hoping heâd heard wrong and that you werenât extending an invite during the only time he actually got away from everyone. He didnât want to tell you no though, youâd put up with so much already. How bad could it be? Maybe things would be fun and youâd spend the entire time showing off like you tended to do.
âIf you really want, I donât see why not.â This could either be the best decision heâs ever made, or blow up in his face entirely.
You clapped your hands excitedly, turning back to face Johnny who was currently grinning like an idiot.
âItâs settled, youâll stay with us for your leave, and you boys are welcome too if youâd like to swing by.â Youâd never refuse John, he was a frequent flier in your home.
It was mainly dinners, though youâd tried to convince him that he could visit on holiday if he was tempted. You hadnât seen your parents since before youâd moved to England, they hadnât known about your marriage either. You wanted to tell them, to tell all about the man that had stolen your heart within a single day. And yet you didnât, choosing to pursue the relationship with Simon. It might have also been due to the fact your parents hadnât wanted you to join the army at all. Your father had joined the army when he was eighteen, marrying your mom when they were barely twenty. Heâd been adamant that you shouldnât marry a military man, that they would only hurt you in the long run. Oh how wrong they were.
The boys had gotten well and truly drunk, laughing at the silliest things and ordering even more drinks and food. You were slightly thankful for the food of course, snacking on anything when the boys werenât looking. Simonâs face was flushed, eyes half lidded as he laughed at another one of Johnâs terrible jokes. Thatâs when you knew that the boys had truly passed their limit, when Simon was laughing at dad jokes? He was definitely drunk.
âAlright everyone, itâs time for us to go so I can get everyone into bed safely.â You turned to look up at Simon, noticing in that moment just how drunk he was.
âAwww do we have to?â Kyle was ready to beg, even if it meant staying out for a little while longer.
âYes you do, I still have to drive home and I canât do that without you guys.â You pushed into Simonâs side, eyes widening at the giggle he let out.
Everyone else was too preoccupied to notice the noise your husband had made and in some way you were almost thankful no one else had heard him. It was adorable, and getting to hear something like that when heâd let loose? It was a win in your book.
âCâmon big boy, we gotta get up too.â You pressed a kiss to his cheek, pushing him towards the edge of the booth once more.
âOkay, okay, âm getting up.â Simon slid out slowly, nearly falling onto his ass as the drinks caught up to him.
You scooted out quickly, grabbing onto his arm to help steady him so that he didnât end up actually hitting the floor. John was more stable than anyone else, even when he was drunk beyond belief he still seemed sober. Kyle and Johnny were both leaning on one another, mumbling something about being too full to keep eating. You began to try and wrangle them all out to the car, listening to Johnnyâs insane babbling.
Had they been a little bit more sober you mightâve found it adorable, but when you were trying to wrangle everyone into the car? It was going to take a while, especially if they continued to misbehave. You opened the back door before opening the passenger door and pushing everyone inside.
âIâd like to sleep tonight boys, so if you would be so kind.â You watched Johnny climb into the seat before nearly falling back out of the truck.
Kyle found it to be the funniest thing heâd ever seen, bent over in laughter as John righted the sergeant to make sure he wouldnât hurt himself. You shook your head, waiting until both Kyle and John were in the backseat before staring at your husband. His brow was furrowed, an expression youâd never seen on his face before. The two of you stared one another down as if waiting for the other to break.
âSimon, please get in the car so we can leave.â He huffed before getting into the seat, shutting the door behind him a little harsher than usual.
Without giving anyone a chance to protest leaving for the night you got into the driver's seat, locking the doors the moment you were settled. Johnny was already snoring softly behind you. He mustâve been more tired than heâd realized, and with the amount that heâd had to drink you were surprised he hadnât passed out sooner.
The drive back was quiet, nothing except for the sounds of the wind rushing by, and Johnnyâs snores, could be heard. Simon had his arms crossed, muscles bulging even under the thick material of his hoodie. You hadnât seen him this drunk before, it was starting to scare you a little at how annoyed he seemed. Bringing it up tonight seemed like a bad idea, he wouldnât be able to have a proper conversation anyway. You were almost thankful when the base came into view, ready to get some sleep.
Youâd parked the truck in Johnâs usual spot, slipping out of the car to help get Johnny and the rest of the boys inside quietly. John, while stumbling for a few steps, managed to make it into his room unharmed. Kyle was leaning against the wall, groaning at how everything was fuzzy and swirling around him at the moment. You were afraid he was going to get sick, but thankfully he made it into his room without any injury. Now all your focus was on Johnny who could barely keep himself upright, ready to pass out again.
âCâmon sweetheart, you need to lay down.â You did your best to keep him awake, nearly falling onto the floor with him.
âDânt wanna.â Johnny collapsed onto the bed once you were in a safe distance, huffing quietly.
âBetter stay, I have to get Simon into bed still.â You ran a hand down your face, if Simon was still acting weird this was surely going to be hectic.
Johnny began to snore almost immediately, snuggling with one of his extra pillows. Good, everyone except your husband was in bed. Time to wrestle a six foot four heaping of a man into bed and hope to god he didnât give you shit. Quickly tucking Johnny in with his blanket to help keep the chill out you headed back out of his room. Simon was standing close enough that he would hear you when you walked out, but his shoulders still seemed to tense.Â
âCâmon, itâs time for bed.â You nodded towards your shared room, no longer having to hide that you stayed together.
Simon grumbled something under his breath, too low for you to be able to hear him properly and give your own retort. You wanted nothing more than to change into some pjâs and crawl into bed, a shower could wait until you had more energy. Stepping into the room you threw off your jacket, making sure it at least landed in a chair before grabbing one of Simonâs shirts. The room was nearly silent as you began to get changed, the shuffling of feet echoing. You tore off your shirt and bra, groaning at how good it felt to take off. Simon huffed slightly, the sound catching your attention.
Your brow furrowed as you turned to face Simon, standing in front of the other man in nothing but your jeans. He had his back turned to you, something that hadnât happened in years.Â
âSi?â You reached over to grab his shoulder, startled when he suddenly pulled away.
âIâm sure youâre very nice miss, but I have an amazing wife and Iâd rather sleep on the floor than beside you.â Your jaw dropped, Simon was so drunk he didnât even recognize that you were his wife.
âIâll give you a pillow and a blanket.â Pulling off your jeans and throwing on Simonâs shirt you giggled, grabbed one one of his pillows and an extra blanket for him to use.
He took them gratefully, laying down onto the hard ground as he did all he could to get comfortable. You knew heâd feel silly in the morning, having slept on the floor when he couldâve wrapped around you like an octopus. It was better than arguing though, Simon could be a mean drunk if it ever came down to it. Yawning slightly you curled up with Simonâs other pillow, breathing in his scent as you slowly drifted off to sleep.
Morning seemed to come too quickly for your liking, the sun seeping into your room from the crack in your curtains. Reaching down you pulled the blanket up and over your head, refusing to admit that it was time to get up.
âLove, why am I on the floor?â Simonâs voice was still thick with sleep, it was definitely doing things for you.
âYou insisted on sleeping down there, said that you had a lovely wife and didnât want to sleep next to me because of it.â You couldnât stop the giggle that slipped through, pushing the blanket back down to roll over and face him.
âJesus, how drunk was I?â Simon rubbed his head, face pale as the hangover took over.
âAll of you guys were pretty drunk, Johnny passed out in the truck on the way back.â Shit, if he didnât remember much of last night, he wasnât going to remember you inviting Johnny to stay with you. You wondered if the Scot remembered your offer.
Simon pushed off the floor, crawling into the bed beside you and snuggling into your chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his head. The rest of the boys could worry about themselves for a few minutes, right now you were going to care for your husband. And ponder how you were going to admit that his friend would be staying with you for nearly a month.
tagging: @gaylemonshark
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