#formula 1 driver imagine
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The Girls Part 14: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Photo credit to Team Scuderia Ferrari
Word count: 4,410
Written by raelee / Posted Oct 10
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“I heard you were in Monaco and didn’t come see me,” Lando accuses as soon as I answer his FaceTime call.
“You were already in Mexico,” I answer defensively.
“Yeah, but asking me would’ve still been nice.”
“Why would I ask if I already knew that you weren’t there?” I question.
He opens his mouth to respond but stops, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I watch his eyes flicker on the screen, and as I’m about to ask him about the sudden movement, he answers my unasked question.
“Where are you right now?”
“Oh, uh,” I laugh nervously, causing Lando to squint at me. “I’m actually in my new flat.”
“Your new flat?” Lando raises his eyebrows at me.
“Yeah, Charles and I actually moved in together.” I wince, waiting for the earful that I’m about to receive.
If Lando doesn’t like Charles even staying at my flat, he’s going to hate that we live together now. Even if I told him that Charles is gone half of the year and we stay in different bedrooms he still wouldn’t be happy about it.
Lando opens his mouth, about to speak again, when his doorbell suddenly rings. I thank whatever God is listening in on our conversation for that.
“Hold on,” he tells me like I have another option, heading towards his door so that I’m left staring at his ceiling. I hear muffled voices before he returns.
“Who was that?” I ask, hoping that the question will distract him from our previous topic.
“The delivery man,” he answers.
“Oh, what’d you get?”
“It’s not for me.”
I give him a questioning look at the response.
“They’re birthday presents for Ada and Lucy.”
Ada and Lucy's second birthday is coming up. They’re so excited to have a day that’s just dedicated to celebrating them. They’re especially looking forward to being able to eat cake and junk food all day, and open presents.
Unfortunately, it also falls on the day of the grand prix in Brazil. So Lando and Charles, two of their favorite people, won’t be able to celebrate their birthday with them on their actual birthday.
It’s going to be extremely difficult to explain to the girls why we’re celebrating, but why we’re not celebrating with the ones that they love.
“You didn’t have to buy them anything, Lando,” I insist.
“They’re my nieces, they’re going to get spoiled.”
“Well, thank you. We appreciate it. Were you going to come to London soon to celebrate with us?” I question.
It’s at a weird point in the season right now. There’s only a few races left until the season ends and winter break starts, so the atmosphere is weird. There’s a lot of testing and media duties for the drivers to do, so they’re at one of their busiest points, but everyone is ready for the season to just be done so they can get a little break.
“Well I was actually thinking that I could give them the presents in Brazil.”
I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “Like… you give them to Charles and Charles gives them to Ada and Lucy?”
“No, like you, Ada, and Lucy come to Brazil to watch the grand prix and McClaren will throw a birthday party for them, and I can give them their gifts then,” he suggests.
“Oh,” I’m taken by surprise. It’s honestly something that I hadn’t considered. “Lando, the grand prix is in like two weeks, that’s very short notice.”
“Yeah, but you already said that you don’t have classes on Fridays. And I think you said you work every other Friday and if I did my math correctly, you would have off that Friday,” he explains.
“I have a class on Monday in the afternoon, so if we flew back Sunday night or Monday morning I would still be able to make it…” I shake my head.
I can’t believe I’m considering this.
Going to a grand prix would bring the opposite of what I want for the girls. It would draw attention to them, especially if McClaren hosts a birthday party for them. After all of the drama on social media and people spotting us as a family of four out in public and posting about it, it makes me worried to go to Lando and Charles’ home away from home.
But… the girls have been showing more and more interest while watching the races lately. And I would love for them to be at a race to see their father and their uncle in their element. Plus meeting the people that Charles and Lando surround themselves with the majority of the weekend would be nice.
“I’ll have to think about it, Lando,” I sigh. “It just might be too hard and too soon after going to Monaco.”
“I get it, you don’t want to see your brother,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes. “Oh no, you caught me.”
“Let me know what you decide, alright? I can fly back and help you fly out with the girls, and I can pay for your flights and hotels and everything,” he offers.
I take a deep breath, gearing up to tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about that and I could figure it out myself. Then, I stop. “Okay, Lando.”
~
“You know what would be great?” Charles asks.
“What?” My eyes shift from the textbook in front of me to my laptop screen that has the problem pulled up, working through it in my head while also trying to carry a conversation with Charles.
“If you came to the Brazil grand prix with Ada and Lucy so that we could celebrate their birthday as a family.”
My head snaps towards where he’s set up on a FaceTime call on my phone leaned up against my water bottle.
“What?” I repeat my earlier question, although this time with surprise. My heart flutters when I catch that he referred to the four of us as a family. I know that I do it, but it’s nice to know that he does it too.
“Yeah, you know. We could celebrate their second birthday on their actual birthday, they could have a little party at Ferrari,” he suggests. “It’d be fun.”
“Have-”I pause at the question that I’m about to ask, already not believing the words that are about to leave my mouth, but Charles urges me on. “Have you been talking to my brother at all?”
“What? Why would you ask that?”
He’s a terrible actor.
“Because he said the exact same thing,” I deadpan.
“Great minds think alike.”
I sigh. “I’ll tell you the same thing that I told him. I’ll think about it.”
“If you’re worried about traveling with Ada and Lucy, I can fly back and fly out to Brazil with you three,” he offers.
“God, you really did talk to Lando,” I murmur. “You know what? Fine. If you and Lando can come out and help me fly out to Brazil with two toddlers and all of our luggage, we can spend their birthday at the grand prix in Brazil. I’m sure they would love that.”
“You’re not going to regret it, mon amour,” he grins enthusiastically. “I’m going to call Lando now to figure out all of the details.”
“Okay, have-”The phone call ends before I can finish my sentence. “Fun.”
I roll my eyes at the clear excitement on Charles’ face, but can’t hide the smile that’s growing on my lips.
~
“Lando, can you grab a bag, please?”
It’s like deja vu, except this time Lando is the one holding Ada and Lucy’s hands while I walk alongside Charles who struggles with the bags once again.
“No, I’m escorting Ada and Lucy right now,” Lando denies. Charles gives him a look of disbelief. “Uncle privileges.”
“Charles, just let me grab-””Not you, mon amour,” he declines, heaving a bag higher onto his shoulder.
I roll my eyes at his stubbornness but don’t persist any further.
I’m just surprised that I’m in the airport for the second time this month, jetting off on yet another international trip. I’m shocked that I’m doing this at this point in my life, nonetheless with two toddlers by my side.
Of course I have help from Lando and Charles (although, is Lando really help?) but after trying so hard to keep my daughters out of the public eye, taking them to a place where people from all walks of life attend is crazy to me. I can’t help but feel weirdly proud of myself for how far I’ve come.
“Are you okay?” Lando’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I return his gaze. “You just kind of zoned out there.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I smile at him and he smiles back.
And they’re genuine smiles. I really am fine.
~
Charles gets us in on Friday without having to deal with any of the media. I’m secretly relieved- as much as I’ve tried to reassure him that I don’t mind the media and fans, we’ll just have to hide the girls’ faces as best as we can, he’s taking all precautions to protect their privacy as best as we can.
“What are my nieces wearing?” A voice snaps me out of my quiet bickering with a whining Ada.
“Shirts and jeans,” I answer, picking her up and into my arms.
“Ferrari shirts,” Charles smirks at Lando.
“Ugh,” Lando wrinkles his nose in disgust. “That won’t do.” He glares at Ada’s gray Ferrari T-shirt and Lucy’s red one. “I’ll find something else for you.”
He disappears before Charles and I can say anything else.
I roll my eyes, a point for Charles not to comment on it, before we make our way into the Ferrari garage.
“Y/N!” I’m pulled into a pair of arms as soon as I enter. I don’t recognize the arms- he’s gotten much more muscular over time- but I do recognize the cologne.
He still needs to use less of it.
“Oh, Carlos,” I wrap my free arm around him.
When I was Lando’s assistant and Carlos still drove at McClaren, we became close because of their close friendship. I didn’t tag along on all of their outings, I hate golf, but we would go out to dinner and for walks together.
We became close fast.
And it was difficult when I had to end that friendship.
I pull back, wiping at the light tears in my eyes at the sudden rush of emotions hitting me. Luckily, Carlos doesn’t comment on it, leaning in closer to brush his thumb against the little girl in my arm’s cheek.
“And this must be Ada, I see you in all of your mother’s stories.”
“Is everyone on your private story’s list but me?” Charles whines.
“Step it up, Charles,” Carlos grins at his teammate, brushing a strand of Lucy’s hair behind her ear. Her cheeks blush as she stares at him.
“Oh no, no boys,” Charles scolds gently, turning away so that Lucy could no longer face Carlos.
To my surprise, Ada’s staring back at Carlos. Not in a bashful way like her sister, but in a curious way.
“I heard it’s your birthday,” Carlos says to Ada and Lucy.
“On Sunday they turn two,” I explain.
“Well I got you birthday presents that you need to open today.” He grabs two nearby bags.
“Carlos, they don't need anything. Especially not today, it’s not their birthday yet,” Charles tells his teammate.
“They’re opening them anyway.”
Carlos’ tone leaves no room for argument and the girls have already focused on the bags, so Carlos hands them over to open.
They’re toddler sized Ferrari hats, but on the brim there’s a 55 and they’re both signed by Carlos.
“Really? You signed it too?” Charles looks unimpressed. I can’t help but laugh, which earns a grin for Carlos and a glare from Charles.
“They could make a nice buck off of it one day.”
~
I try to subtly walk through the paddock back to the Ferrari garage to meet Charles after showing the girls the cars on the track for qualifying, but it’s not easy with a tired toddler on each hip while trying to look out for any phones recording or taking pictures of us.
An arm suddenly pushes on my back, guiding me towards a different garage.
“These are my nieces,” Lando’s familiar voice announces proudly to the group of mechanics and engineers.
“Ew, Lando, get your arm off of me, you’re all sweaty,” I whine.
He rolls his eyes but removes his arm, reaching out to forcibly take the exhausted girls from my arms into his.
“No, you must be tired from the race, I can hold them,” I reassure them.
“Let me spend time with my girls,” he disagrees.
“And who might you be?” One of the mechanics raises an eyebrow at me flirtatiously.
Before I can handle it (in other words, embarrass myself) Lando speaks up, glaring at the mechanic. “She’s my sister.”
One of the other mechanics nudges the guy and mumbles something. All I can manage to hear is ‘Leclerc.’
Speak of the devil and he may appear.
“What are you doing here?” Charles asks in confusion, resting a hand on my waist gently and stepping around me to wave at his daughters.
“Lando pulled me in here,” I explain.
“Did you come to spy on the enemy, Leclerc?” A man I’ve only seen in photos approaches. Well, he’s really just a boy.
“Oscar Piastri,” my face lights up at the sight of him and I step forward to shake his hand. “It’s so great to finally meet you. You know, I loved your overtake in F2 in Bahrain-””Now hold on,” Lando interrupts me. “Are you telling me that my sister is actually an Oscar Piastri fan?”
“Yes, I really am,” I admit, watching as Charles wrestles Ada out of Lando’s arms.
“I can’t believe this, my own sister likes my teammate more than she likes me,” my brother says in mock disbelief.
“Why wouldn’t she? I’m the one decorating the cake for her daughters’ birthday party on Sunday,” Oscar grins smugly.
“Birthday party? On Sunday? Here?” Charles repeats parts of the sentence, raising his eyebrows.
“Yes, that’s what he just said. Do you need your ears checked or something?” Lando questions jokingly.
“You can’t have a birthday party for the girls here on Sunday. We’re having a birthday party for them in the Ferrari motorhome,” Charles says.
“Well I’m their uncle that they rarely see, so they really should be spending more time here with me, and that includes having their birthday party here,” Lando responds.
“And I’m their dad, so they should have their birthday party in a familiar environment. And that’s surrounded by red,” Charles narrows his eyes at his competitor.
As if they both suddenly remember that I’m there, they turn to look at me with expectant gazes. As soon as I recognize the expressions, I laugh.
“Oh hell no, you’re not dragging me into this. Figure it out yourselves.”
They turn back to each other in defeat, narrowing their eyes at each other once again. This is going to be a long weekend.
~
“Oh my god,” I gape at the screen, hugging the girls tight to me as Charles crosses the line for a second place finish. “Dad came in second place, girls.”
The girls, despite not knowing what I’m saying, clap their hands in excitement, causing the engineers and mechanics around me to laugh.
“Are you going to the podium?” One of them asks.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I frown, fighting myself internally.
On one hand, it would be a great opportunity to remind Charles that I care about his career and success. Having his daughters at a race with him to watch him for the first time and then to get a podium, I know he’d be a little disappointed if we weren’t to go to the podium celebrations.
But on the other hand, I’m still worried about Ada and Lucy’s privacy. I know that pictures of their faces are already out there, but I want to do all that I can to prevent more of them from getting out. I want them to be able to have that privacy to decide what they want to do in the future instead of always being known as Charles Leclerc’s daughters. And a grand prix with cameras and strangers everywhere… they’re bound to constantly be on camera, especially with the controversy surrounding their existence and sudden appearance.
“Are you worried about their faces being seen?” Another mechanic asks. “Because I have a solution.”
I give him a curious look and he grabs two nearby helmets used for decoration, putting them over the girls heads. They squeal in excitement and I laugh.
“That’s genius.”
Together we make our way to the podium, crowding together behind the fence for Charles, Max, and Sergio to drive up. Everyone around me is polite, making sure to leave me plenty of room with a toddler on each hip.
When Charles pulls up and sees us, an expression that I’ve never seen before appears on his face. It lights up and it’s full of adoration, and he practically runs over to us.
He rips his helmet off, throwing it haphazardly on the ground behind him before leaning forward, lifting the visor of Ada’s helmet and placing a kiss on her nose. He does the same to Lucy and I smile at the gesture, expecting him to move on to the guys beside me to celebrate with them.
To my surprise, he pulls me into a hug, Ada and Lucy squished between us.
“Happy for you,” I confess to him, choking back the sobs that want to escape. He gives me a soft smile, able to tell that I’m seconds away from crying.
Thankfully he moves on to the guys before I start bawling my eyes out. I don’t know why I feel like crying. Maybe because this feels so… natural. Being at grand prixs again, surrounded by all of the drivers and mechanics and engineers. Taking my daughters to grand prixs, showing them the world that their uncle and dad were raised in and now are dominating.
Maybe it’s the pride that I feel for Charles, who’s having such a great season.
When Charles is up on the podium, I do let a tear slip.
~
“Good, I was just looking for you. They’re setting up the birthday party at the McClaren motorhome right now,” Lando catches up to the four of us as we walk back to the Ferrari motorhome.
“Lando, the Ferrari motorhome is already getting their birthday party ready,” Charles informs him slowly.
“Well, I already told you that McClaren’s going to host their birthday party.”
“And I already told you that Ferrari’s going to host their birthday party.”
Once again, the two stare each other down.
God I’m really getting sick of this.
“Guys, I have something to show you,” Alex suddenly appears, breaking the tension.
“Oh thank god,” I mumble, following behind him as he begins to make his way down the paddock.
“Is it in the Williams motorhome? That’s such a far walk,” Lando whines. I hear a thump, then another thump as Lando hits Charles back.
Alex holds the door open for us and Ada and Lucy enter ahead of everyone else. All of the sudden, a bunch of people jump out from behind the furniture in the room, shouting “Surprise!” and blowing party blowers.
Ada looks around shyly, clinging to my leg, while Lucy takes a step forward with a wide grin, loving the attention. There’s people from all the teams here, from employees in the communication departments to mechanics, engineers, and drivers.
I recognize a lot of the faces even years later, but there’s some new ones as well.
“Thank you for this,” I murmur to Alex as Lance Stroll and Esteban Ocon manage to pry Ada off my leg to dance and Lucy watches in a trance as Fernando Alonso and Sergio Perez engage in a conversion in Spanish.
“Of course,” he grins at me, knowing how much easier it is to have this party at a neutral location. Not only to stop the fighting, but also to hopefully mend the relationship between Lando and Charles.
It’s only when Ada and Lucy blow out the candles on their cake that it hits me. I have two two year olds.
Of course I know that they’re not the small babies that I once cradled in my arms or fed bottles to, but it’s so much harder actually realizing it. They’ll never be as little as they are now.
And right now… they’re not even that little. Right now they’re holding their own forks, feeding themselves cake while trying to keep it off of themselves as best as they can. They’re real people with thoughts and emotions, and they no longer need me as much as they once did.
It makes my heart hurt.
I glance over at Charles, thinking of his reaction when we found out that I wasn’t pregnant. If anyone’s the father of my girls, I’m glad that it’s him. It makes me curious about my future children… what their dad will be like. If it’ll be Charles.
“Why is she staring at him like that?” Alex’s question snaps me out of my thoughts.
My cheeks blush, thinking that I’ve been caught, but once I follow his sightline I see Lucy staring at Carlos, batting her eyelashes at him.
“She’s trying to flirt with him,” I inform him.
“That’s flirting with him?” Esteban raises his eyebrows in disbelief. It’s literally just staring creepily at Carlos and blinking quickly. She needs to work on it.
“I wonder where she learned that from,” Lily giggles, nudging me.
“That’s a classic Y/N move,” Charles chimes in.
“What? No it’s not,” I deny, reaching over to push his shoulder teasingly.
“Please, do you not remember?”
“Remember what?”
He grins at me and it’s like we’re the only two people in the room. “Remember when we would lay in bed at night on a race weekend and you would bat those pretty little eyelashes at me, ‘Oh Charles, can you please go get me a chocolate bar from the vending machine?’”
“I never did that,” I exclaim.
“Yes you did, on multiple occasions. I’m surprised we were never caught with how often I would have to buy you damn chocolate bars,” he teases.
I laugh and he joins in softly.
Someone clearing their throat snaps us out of the moment and I suddenly remember there’s people around us.
“Um, let’s move on to presents,” I announce awkwardly.
Ada and Lucy get so much stuff. Esteban gets them a book on how to learn French- I guess he doesn't know much about two year olds, Pierre gets them mini purses from Louis Vuitton, Lando had two toddler sized play cars sent to our new apartment but gives the girls practically the whole Barbie aisle for the party, and Max gets them a baby shark toy (something about how good the song is).
Slowly, everyone begins to leave, and Lando and George keep the girls entertained while Charles and I begin to clean up.
“Well I’d say the party was a success,” I say to Charles, bending down to pick wrapping paper off of the ground.
“Yeah, Albon did a great job hosting. Ada and Lucy had a lot of fun,” he glances over to where they’re playing with their new toys.
“So did the drivers,” I chuckle.
I begin to rise at an angle, hands full of wrapping paper as Charles bends down at an angle to grab some more wrapping paper. I turn my head at the same time he ducks his down, his lips landing on my own.
We kiss for a split second, lips moving against each other in sync before I remember where we are and pull away with a quiet gasp.
My eyes look over at the group of four, seeing them still playing. They didn’t notice the accidental kiss at all.
The damage is done as I look over at Charles, who’s staring back at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. I stare back with blushing cheeks.
“Are you guys almost done?” Lando calls out, breaking our staring competition.
“Yeah, just a little bit longer,” I agree, not breaking the gaze with Charles.
~
We don't have the chance to talk about it.
As soon as we get back to the hotel, both girls are sent into meltdowns from the sugar high and a long, exhausting day. Then, since they’re both throwing a fit, once one begins to calm down the other one begins to overreact which sends the other one into a fit again.
Finally Charles and I manage to bathe them, change them into their pajamas, and get them to bed.
If I’m exhausted, I don’t know how Charles feels.
I can feel his eyes on me as I anxiously fold one of Lucy’s dirty shirts.
I look up, meeting those hazel eyes that I’ve become so accustomed to seeing. Now I don’t know what I would do without them.
“So…” I start awkwardly.
He just looks so good like this. Hair messy from a long day, in just a casual T-shirt and gym shorts. It’s his dad look. The dim light from the hotel lamp casts a warm glow on him, making me want to just reach over and pull him into my arms.
Before I can even react, he takes two steps forward, hands gently placed on my biceps as he turns me towards him. He leans down and my hands reach up to grab the back of his biceps as our lips meet.
It’s an anticipated kiss, and god, was it worth the wait.
His lips are warm and comforting, like pulling on a sweatshirt straight out of the dryer. Like it’s meant to be, and although you know it can’t last forever, you’ll savor it while it’s happening.
His hands slide down to my waist and my arms wind around his neck, pulling him as close to me as I can.
It’s Ada and Lucy’s second birthday. And it’s also the day that Charles and I kissed twice- once on accident and once on purpose.
This may be one of the happiest days of my life.
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#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#formula 1 driver imagine
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Lewis Hamiltion
summary: lewis surprises his girlfriend at her fashion show
warnings: this is a reader insert! the reader does work as a model, but pretty sure there are no mentions of body type, or other defining characteristics :)
You woke up slowly, soft light filtering into the hotel room you were residing in while in Paris. This week was the infamous Paris fashion week. As you laid there, you reminisced on your past years here for the same shows.
You had been fortunate enough to walk for Saint Laurent, Louis Vuitton, Stella McCartney and other designers for the past 5 seasons. This year, you had been invited back for those designers, as well as some new ones.
The biggest surprise had been when you had gone in for your final fitting for all of your pieces for Stella McCartney, the woman herself has been there. That meeting had ended with you being asked to open and close the Paris show this year. You had of course shed a few tears, most of them coming when you had called your boyfriend and parents.
“Babe!” Lewis had yelled over face time from the Mercedes factory. “That is amazing! I am so proud of you!”
You and Lewis had actually met at a fashion week, but New York two years prior. You had both been at an after party, and Lewis had accidentally spilled his drink on you. After he had grabbed you towels, the two of you had sat and talked for hours, ending up going on your first date that week.
“Thank you Lew,” you smiled through your tears. “It’s all just surreal.”
As soon as you had put down the phone, Lewis had gone to check his schedule, frowning when he saw fashion week fell very close to that season’s testing. He had unfortunately had to let you know he wouldn’t be able to make it there to watch you walk.
Now, you felt a little down realizing your bed was empty on the day of one of your biggest achievements to date. Your parents had made their way to France, and you knew you would have some friends in the crowd, but Lewis and even Angela and Roscoe’s presence was missing.
A knock on the door got you out of bed. You were filming with Vogue today, documenting a day in your life but also your first opening. They would definitely be getting the authentic experience you thought as you went to the door in your fluffy dressing gown and your eye mask on your head.
Putting on a soft smile you opened the door to the cameras. “Hi Vogue, come on in.” The cameraman and one producer followed you into the room. “Welcome to a day in my life, Paris Fashion week edition!” You sat down on the arm chair by the window.
“So first thing, I’ve woken up, going to order some breakfast and coffee before I go to do my skin care. This week is a lot on our skin, so it’s important to really take care of it.”
The camera’s followed you to eat, get ready, and then out to your car to head to the venue for the afternoon. You had kept your outfit pretty casual, a silk slip dress and strappy sandals. You spent the time in the car answering some questions for the video before you arrived and headed straight into hair and makeup.
They videoed you getting ready to a certain extent, before you unfortunately had to send them away as things got busier. Before the show you chatted with the other models, and Stella and the rest of the design team. As the front of the house started getting busier with people arriving, you began to get dressed.
It would’ve been around half an hour but seemed like a minute until you were lined up behind the wall to start the show. The stage manager held out a hand as the music started, counting you down before you began your walk. The lights were blinding as always, but quickly enough your vision was back.
You saw a lot of familiar faces as you scanned the crowd, eventually looking to where your parents were seated. You smiled with your eyes as you saw your mom with her phone up taking photos, and your dad clapping. You had to really work on your face when you glimpsed the blonde sitting next to your mother.
Carmen smiled at you brightly as she clapped. You knew Lewis had a hand in this. If he couldn’t be here, he would’ve wanted to be there some how. And his mother sitting with your family did just that.
You were able to have your game face back on for the rest of the show, absolutely beaming as you joined Stella for the final walk. As you headed backstage with the other girls, you were prepared to see your parents and Carmen. What you weren’t prepared to see was Lewis with a humungous bouquet of Lillies, Roscoe at his feet (he would never tell you how he got Roscoe in) and your parents by his side.
“Shut up,” you scoffed, tears popping up as you grinned and walked towards him in a sleek black outfit. “I can’t believe you.”
“You know I wouldn’t want to be any where else,” he met you in the middle, wrapping his arms around you in a light hug. He buried his head in your hair for a moment before pulling back to press a light kiss to your forehead and then your lips.
“Let me get changed, so I don’t need to worry about this,” you gestured down to your outfit, smiling to your parents before running to the changing area to get into your sweat suit. You hurried back, immediately wrapping your parents and Carmen in tight hugs.
“Hi darling,” you cooed, leaning over to Roscoe who had been panting for attention. “Who is my good boy?” you rubbed his belly, the group laughing at you. They knew you treated Roscoe like he was your child so this was no surprise.
The group of you quickly decided to head back to the hotel you were staying in, of course Lewis having arranged for everyone else to stay in the same one. After a brief time to chat and hang out, Lewis revealed he had booked dinner at a nice restaurant near the Eiffel tower. None of you were surprised, and got ready quickly before hopping in a car to head there.
You were sat by a gorgeous balcony with views of the tower as you ate an amazing meal of all of your favorite French foods. After you had eaten, you sipped on your wine, looking around at the most important people in your life all glowing with the aura of good food and good company.
“Look honey, there’s fireworks!” Lewis stood and grabbed your hand, leading you to the balcony where there were in fact fireworks shooting off over the Eiffel tower.
“God this is beautiful,” you sighed as you leaned against the balcony railing, watching the lights from the fireworks reflect off of the tower.
“Not as beautiful as you,” you could hear Lewis’ smile in his voice as you rolled your eyes, turning around only to see your boyfriend down on one knee.
“Shut up,” you gasped, hands coming up to cover your mouth as you caught a glimpse of your parents and a photographer standing in the balcony door way.
“My love,” Lewis’ eyes sparkled as he looked up at you. “You have given my life meaning outside of racing, something I never thought I could have. I know you are more than I deserve, but I would really love to spend the rest of our lives making our life beautiful together. Will you please marry me?”
You didn’t even have to give him a response, falling to your knees and wrapping your arms around him to give him a kiss, nodding through your tears.
#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton imagines#lewis hamilton x reader#f1#f1 driver#f1 driver imagine#formula on#formula one driver#formula one driver imagine#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#formula 1#formula 1 driver#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 driver imagine#lewis x reader#mercedes#mercedes f1
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4k celebration
i want to see feral lando. dom lando. choking and degrading and rough lando. maybe a bad race, maybe flirting with another driver. weeknd vibes lando. rough rough rough lando.
heat.
ln x fem!reader - 4k celebration
in which lando fucks you until the sun comes up :)
i am. feral. there are no words to describe how unhinged i am over this, this is super self indulgent and i cannot thank you enough anon hehe - lemme know what y’all think ily! <3
songs to set the mood: earned it by the weeknd, novacane by frank ocean, heaven angel by the driver era
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp with a bit of plot, choking, crying, swearing, overstimulation, neck? riding? (hehe), degradation, a slap or two, soft dom!lando, also not so soft dom!lando (he switches up a bit), just feral unhinged vibes
2k words
foreglow:
the glow of light appearing in the sky preceding sunrise
-
the sunrise casts a tangerine foreglow over your bodies, the bed, everything the light can touch.
lando’s slumped against the headboard and you’re sprawled over his lap, legs hooked over his, with his hand working between your thighs.
it’s been hours. he’s had you spread out for him, countless positions and locations utilised. you were paying for your behaviour over the race weekend, but really, it was all his fault.
he’d been too cocky, looked too good, the australian air getting to his head. you’d been glowering at him since you’d arrived in the land down under, watching in erotically charged horror as he paraded around looking, to put it simply, slutty. tight shorts, arms out, neck on display for all to see. his fucking neck. god, it looked so thick, flexing every time he turned to smirk at you. the heat rendered you delirious, and so did he.
and you couldn’t even think about that fucking daddy bracelet he’d been sporting.
you decided you needed payback, in the form of some carefully constructed, harmless flirting with everyone from the mechanics to the guys on the pit wall old enough to be your father. but lo and behold, it worked, and that’s how you found yourself in this position.
the position in question?
being fucked every which way lando deemed fit until the sun came up.
“you learnt your lesson yet, baby?” lando grunts into your ear, pinching your clit between his fingers.
your thighs are soaked, shaking uncontrollably, and your head has lulled back against his shoulder. you’re breathing heavily, your back flush against his front and he’s restless. you’ve lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve been pushed to.
“lan.” you breathe, eyes fixated on the bracelet adorning his wrist. the kitschy trinket sends liquid fire down your spine and you spasm as he continues to swirl his calloused thumb over your clit.
“that’s not an answer.” he tuts, slipping his fingers through your slit until he’s circling your weeping entrance. you’re coated with slick, some of it his from where he’d fucked you up against the wall a good few hours ago. “have you,” he kisses your shoulder, trailing his fingers that were digging into your hip up your belly. “learnt your lesson?” his teeth sink into your flesh at the same time he pinches your nipple.
you gasp out a cry of his name, slurring incomprehensibly, “yes, yes, ‘m sorry, i’m so sorry.” you sob. his chest rumbles cruelly with laughter and you’re hurtling towards another release, the overstimulation making it easy for him to get you off.
“that’s all you needed to say, honey.” lando coos condescendingly.
as if he’s rewarding you for owning up, two of his fingers sink into your entrance, sliding deep. the sound of your wetness sends your eyes rolling back as he scissors his digits in and out of you, speeding them up into a delicious grind. you’re a mess in seconds, slumped into him as close as can be. kisses over your neck soothe you and you feel the wet rush of your release approaching quicker than you can comprehend it. you gush all over his fingers, dripping down his wrist, coating that annoying fucking bracelet.
“there you go, baby. so good for me.” he whispers, slowing his thrusts. “can you turn over for me? want you to look at me.”
you pant as you wriggle around in his arms until you’re straddling his lap. you can feel yourself dripping on him, his thick length sliding between your folds. the exhaustion renders you languid, ready to let him do just about whatever he wants to you next.
lando cups your breast, stroking gently over your nipple while he runs his tongue all over his long fingers. he loves to make you watch, torturing you until you’re needy for another release.
“you think you can do a few more for me?” lando smirks, bringing the fingers that he’d just licked clean to your other breast, fiddling with your other nipple. he has you rolling your hips against him, inadvertently chasing another high already. he loves it, revels in how he can reduce you to this, so desperate that you’re grinding down on his cock, a wet mess in his lap, all for him.
“yeah, lan.” you nod profusely, your tired eyes locked with his. the early morning sun hits them enticingly, making them sparkle green in the warm light. he looks disgustingly gorgeous like this, soft and yours, resting against the headboard, curls spilling over his forehead and into his eyes. if you didn’t know that he was mulling over a million twisted ideas in his brain that involved resorting you to tears of pleasure, you’d think he looked adorable.
“good.” he grins. “not even nearly done with you.” he looks evil; your thighs clench around his hips.
without moving you off of his lap, he uses his strength to slide down the bed until he lays flat. he beckons you to crawl up his body, and you find the strength to wriggle over him, thighs resting on either side of his neck when he stops you.
“you gonna slide your pretty little cunt over my neck?” lando asks, wrapping his huge hands around your thighs. you gulp, staring down at him dumbfounded. “don’t look at me like i’m crazy, baby. you think i don’t see you staring at it with that special little look in your eyes?” he teases. “get to fucking work, i’m not gonna ask again.”
hesitantly, you lower yourself against his his skin, flaming red with embarrassment and lust. you can’t lie and pretend that you aren’t utterly enticed by this, that you aren’t leaking down your thighs at the prospect of sliding your pussy along his tanned, flexed flesh. the adventurousness of the escapade makes your legs tremble, nerves eating you alive, but it’s all worth it when you feel that first glide.
you curse out, loud and breathy, the new sensation creating lewd sounds between you. he’s obsessed, staring up at you in mischievous awe as you rock your hips backwards and forwards. you tangle one hand in his hair, tugging hard in sheer desperation, while the other hand balances you against the headboard so you don’t crush him. he guides your hips like he wants to die like this, suffocated by you and everything you have to offer him.
“oh my fucking god.” you choke out a moan, jaw hanging agape as you continue to slide against him. every time you move forwards, you feel the delectable prickle of his trimmed facial hair scratching against your inner thighs and your eyes squeeze shut each time, pure pleasure bubbling in the pit of your belly.
“you have no idea how fucking good you look.” lando rasps, digging his fingertips into the meat of your thighs. you’re so tense, teetering on the very edge. the strength he possesses, his composure while you’re sitting on his fucking neck makes you throb.
you gaze down at him, feral, and it does something to him, because he’s yanking you up onto his parted lips, burying his face as far as it will go. you yelp, collapsing into the headboard as he holds you down on his tongue, lapping up your mess.
“can taste us.” he mumbles into the flesh of your cunt, barely audible, but you hear it and it makes you shiver. you black out as your orgasm hits, your ears ringing as bliss courses through your limp body like a delicious electric shock. your nerves are shot when he rolls you onto your back.
“fucking heaven.” lando groans, crawling over you as he licks his lips.
he’s invigorated by the taste of you, how spent you are, and how it’s all his fault. you can’t string a sentence together, but you’re grabbing at his toned body like you’re begging silently for more, anything. he needs to drive into you, fill up up, make you remember that your little games will always lead back to this, the reminder that you’re his.
“you sensitive, honey?” he growls, hand sliding between your legs while his necklace rests in the valley between your breasts. you whimper at the sensation, overloaded, nodding. you both know you need more; he needs more. “tough.”
lando practically folds you in half when he fucks into you, giving you no solace in adjusting to him. he ruts into you hard, fast, unrelenting as he sinks deeper and deeper with every thrust.
“you’re gonna behave from now on. you don’t need to make me jealous for me to fuck you.” he grunts. his slaps your hip, the harsh snap leaving a sting that has you convulsing. “this is what you deserve isn’t it? whoring yourself out because you were a wet mess for me all weekend.”
you whine his name, sobs wracking your body. he feels utterly divine hammering into you like life itself depends on it. you’ve lost track of where he stops and you begin, stars behind your eyes that turn into butterflies festering in your belly. you’re so full, flushed beneath him, gushing every time he opens his dirty fucking mouth.
“crying for me, love?” he mocks, lowering himself to get even closer to you, his tongue finding your tears tracks and licking the salty residue away until you’re shuddering.
“please, lando, please, told you i’m sorry.” you plead, begging for something undisclosed, but it’s okay, because he knows exactly what to do with you.
“be fucking quiet.” lando coos once more, sickeningly unsympathetic.
but you can’t help it, whimpering out his name, begging for some form of relief, or mercy, or for him to just fuck you impossibly harder. how can you be quiet when he’s tearing you so perfectly apart?
lando doesn’t like being disobeyed, so when you continue to sob, loud and lewdly, his hand finds it’s way to the base of your throat. your jaw goes slack, wheezing at the intense rush you get when he squeezes slowly, and you can’t help but let go.
“fucking- lando!” you writhe.
“i know, baby, i know.” he shushes you, hooking your leg even higher so that he can bury himself as deep as possible.
you spasm hard, impossibly tight around him and he stutters, collapsing you both hard into the mattress. you hold him so, so tight as he cums, shooting into you. you can feel him leaking out of you already, white hot, and laying there in a heap of sweat and adoration. he breathes a laugh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.
“are you okay, honey?” he whispers, kissing your collarbone.
“just peachy. a bit knackered.” you giggle, tangling your fingers into his damp curls.
“so, you liked the bracelet then?” he teases, nose bumping against your cheek as he raises his wrist to your eye line.
“i think it needs a clean.” you wrinkle your nose, thinking about what the beads had been exposed to over the last few hours.
“let’s shower, hm? then we can watch the sunrise.” lando suggests, sitting you up slowly.
“you’re gonna need to carry me.” your legs are still quivering.
“anything for you.” he says, hand over his heart.
-
45 minutes later, the sun is sitting pretty, high in the sky.
7:26am, the clock reads. the melbourne skyline glimmers hot with the rise of a new day.
you’re snuggled into his side, wet hair cooling the heat of damp skin. your eyes flutter, barely fighting the urgent need to sleep.
“you have no idea how much i love you.” lando caresses your stringy locks, pushing the hair from your eyes.
your bare bodies mould together, basking in the orange of the dawn.
“love you.” you mutter, brushing your lips against his chest in an open mouthed kiss. “promise i’ll start behaving.” you snicker.
“but baby, you know i love it when you’re bad.”
“okay, i’ll remember that… daddy.” you retort, a teasing lilt to your tone.
he ignores the way his blood rushes south, too conscious of your exhausted body - and his own - to climb on top of you and fuck you until the sun sets once more.
“get some sleep.” he whispers through gritted teeth.
you sink into sleep while he watches over you. the view from the hotel room is gorgeous, breathtaking, but why would he give it even a millisecond of his attention when he has you?
-
head? empty.
-
taglist
@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen @cmleitora @pianor481 @costkappen @roostersluvvr
#lando norris#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris fics#lando norris fluff#lando norris oneshot#lando norris imagine#f1 fic#f1 fics#f1 smut#f1 fluff#f1 driver x you#f1 driver x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fics#formula 1 smut#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fluff#f1 oneshot#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic
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the orange peel theory * fem!driver
how many men in her life would stop to peel an orange for her if she asks randomly?
pairings: f1 grid x fem!driver
warnings: -
notes: juSt a random idea i got when i dreadfully peeled oranges for myself ugh i hate being single sometimes
guys this is the last vr update today i swear i’ve got too much times on my hands actually
(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)
-> max verstappen, #1
would be in the middle of an interview after quali when she comes up to him with a mandarin orange in hand
max stops mid sentence to look down at her in confusion but will take the orange into his hands as she asks him to peel it for her politely
he would cover the mic and whisper “can this wait? i’m in the middle of something” and she shows him her hands, perfectly manicured white nails with a frown and says “i’ll stain my nails”
and he just does it, peeling the orange as he carries on with the interview after she walks away without him knowing
when he finishes, he turns to give it to her but she’s no longer there and ends up eating the orange during his interview lol
-> logan sargeant, #2
he’d be sitting in his garage minding his own business when she comes and sits next to him with a bag of mandarin oranges in hand
he doesn’t even need to be told
he immediately reaches out and starts peeling the oranges for her, even tearing away the white strands because he knows she hates those
totally nothing to do with the fact that he’s had a crush on her forever
everything to do with the fact that they grew up together and he’s too lazy to fight
-> daniel ricciardo, #3
he’s literally just walked into the paddocks for race day
he feels all cool with all the cameras
suddenly she runs over to him with an orange in her hands and a hopeful smile
“peel this for me please?”
he does it without question
he walks the paddocks with her while peeling her orange and even sparks up conversation with her
-> lando norris, #4
literally walks away when he sees her approaching him with an orange
she’s been doing it all weekend and he refuses to be a victim
also because he’s not that fond of peeling oranges
or oranges, for that matter
she tries chasing after him but when she finally catches up, he simply ignores the request to peel the orange for her
-> pierre gasly, #10
he’ll be literally walking over to the grid for the driver’s parade
looking pretty cool in his cool fits
an orange is presented to him without question
he grins at her and thanks her for the orange
walks away and eats the orange himself
-> sergio perez, #11
would also be in the middle of an interview when she comes up with an orange
would peel it because he’s a mega dad and he’s really taken a liking to her
excuses himself from the interview to do it for her real quick
would take one piece of the orange for himself
claims it’s the taxes for making him do it instead of doing it herself
-> fernando alonso, #14
takes the orange without her saying anything
he’s always seen with seb on race weekends and is very used to her antics
literally gives her the orange peel and one piece of orange
eats the orange without her saying anything
she’s in damn near tears because she really expected fernando to peel it for her without question
-> charles lerclerc, #16
is sad that she didn’t bring him an orange too
still peels it for her though
even though he was in the middle of some paddock game with carlos
asks for a piece and because she loves him and her crush is still very much present, she simply gives him the whole orange
-> lance stroll, #18
he’d have been coming out of his racing home minding his own business
they don’t interact often because she scares him
is almost scared to say no to the orange peeling and actually says no
mutters “i always knew you hated me” as she walks away
which then makes him chase her to peel the orange for her and apologise profusely
because lance and her literally never talk and it took up all her courage to approach him with this orange, she gives him half of the orange
-> kevin magnussen, #20
asks her if she's got an extra orange for his baby girl
she literally came prepared and gives one to cute baby laura
so now kevin has to peel two oranges for two babies
outrageous, if u ask him
-> nyck de vries, #21
has unfortunately departed by the time she decided to be a menace about the orange peel theory
she thinks about him often though
they're texting buddies actually
-> yuki tsunoda, #22
literally came prepared
he's got a packet of candy he bought when he flew back to japan for a visit
she gives him the whole orange
she literally peels the orange for him in exchange for the candy
-> alex albon, #23
was literally walking to the grid for the opening ceremony of the race weekend
says no immediately
but he does change his mind and asks if he can have half if he peels it for her
peels it and takes more than half of the share
-> zhou guanyu, #24
is delighted to even see her because they don't come across one another often
is kinda touched that she asked him to peel an orange but then is disappointed to find out that he's not the first victim and that this is all a tiktok trend for her
peels it anyway
asks her to bring an extra orange if there's a next time as payment
-> niko hulkenberg, #27
she literally cannot find him
doesn't get to participate in the trend
she only saw him once that weekend and it was at the opening ceremony and she only had 1 orange for alex to peel
and on the grid in his race car
-> esteban ocon, #31
absolutely ADORES her
peels it without question
peeks around her shoulder to ask if she's brought another one for him
she says yes and that he's the only one who gets one for himself because she loves him back
-> lewis hamilton, #44
this psycho literally approaches lewis when he's on an interview panel
but that's because he asked her to do it at that time so he has a excuse to escape the panel
he's just so tired of the panel interviews
giggling with her like demons as he peels the orange
-> carlos sainz, #55
peels it for her without question
the only one to ask her why she's got so many oranges to eat and hand out
also the only one to ask her if oranges have been the only thing she's eaten all weekend
inhumanly impossible to eat this many oranges in one weekend perhaps
-> george russell, #63
is literally tearing up because she came to him to ask to peel the orange
he heard from alex what she's been doing
he's been waiting all weekend for her and was sad that it seemed like she had no intentions on letting him participate in her tiktok
she feels so bad for him that she joins him in peeling an orange as well
-> valtteri bottas, #77
is confused because he's just minding his own business using his phone during the driver's briefing
peels the orange for her anyway
asks if oranges are her favourite fruit
suggests eating something less acidic to avoid a tummyache
-> oscar piastri, #81
if anyone's tired of her being a menace with all these oranges, it's going to be him
but because he knows she'll pick a fight if he says no
he will peel the orange reluctantly
takes a picture with the orange because it's the same shade as the mclaren shirt he is wearing
— bonus
-> liam lawson, #30
asks her to fuck off
only ask him to peel an orange when she's lost all the ability to peel one for herself
asks her if he can have one from her orange stash
she says no in tears because he cussed at her
shrugs and walks away
-> sebastian vettel, #5
this clinically insane woman has got this 4 time world champion peeling oranges on the pit wall during qualifying
has him throw her a peeled orange in between laps during qualifying
eats it in the car for a racing 'buff' before she drives out for a lap
she's got too many oranges so he helps her eat some of them
eating oranges = beating mclaren = beating oscar because they're all the same colour and have a correlation obviously
taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife @vellicora @leilanixx @meadhgbcavanagh @2bormaybenot @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @love4lando @sadg3 @bborra @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @sadg3
#f1 grid x reader#fem!driver#female driver#f1 fem!driver#f1 female driver#vettel reincarnate#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#disneyprincemuke vr#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#max verstappen x reader#logan sargeant x reader#alex albon x reader#sebastian vettel x reader
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HE’S SO PRETTY WHEN HE GOES DOWN ON ME ( charles leclerc. )
charles leclerc x reader
charles goes down on her and she can't help but admire his pretty eyes staring back at her.
warnings: smut, mostly google translate french (highschool does NOT teach us how to talk dirty okay, bare with me)
author note: as much as I would've wanted to write this for lando, it HAS to be charles, and I feel like this is so different from my usual thought and emotion heavy writing! incoming charles obsession??? like if people requested imagines for him, I'D WRITE IT...
HIS GREEN EYES MIMICKED THE SHIMMER OF PALE EMERALD. sunlight peeked through the curtains, though in a few hours time, it would fall from its peak in the sky and the room would eventually begin to darken.
his biceps filled out the sleeves of his freshly-washed blue shirt, straight from the load of laundry she had done hours ago. veins like lightning under his tanned flesh to suggest his touch was rough, yet his callused hands were so gentle against her skin.
goosebumps crept across her body with every graze of his body on hers, every small breath against her ear as he mumbled something dirty to her in french. though she didn't know exactly what, she could pick up on the cognates between languages.
he tasted faintly of chapstick, her chapstick, that transferred from her lips to his as he couldn't keep off of her. with lips as swollen and pink as hers, he graced nearly every part of her body with his kiss. she was his oxygen and he was deprived.
but it was hard for him to ever be deprived, considering how even when they weren't in such a position, he was glued to her, hands grasping or resting at her sides and his breath down her neck.
when he'd reluctantly part from her sweet-tasting lips, his veined hand would snake down from the long strands of her hair in his palm, coming to rest on her jaw. prominent veins in his arms would indicate force was used to push her head up to expose the smooth skin of her neck and collarbone, yet his touch was tender.
still, he felt her gulp under his palm.
light trails of saliva from his kisses down her jaw to her collarbone and neck, leaving red marks of irritated skin that would later bruise.
he knew she wouldn't be able to cover it up. he nipped at her skin with the purpose of showing it off, and she could get him to stop if she really wanted. but she didn't want that.
the hand on her neck reminding her of the easy power he had over her, and how she loved the gentle dominance he displayed.
because it hadn't taken much convincing earlier to get her into their bedroom. despite it being midday, he wanted to take care of her, in more ways than one.
she didn't object, she wouldn't when he looked at her with those damn eyes. his strength and her weakness.
now laid on her back with his body looming over her, his knee between her legs to put pressure just enough, but still not satisfying the desperate need to have him. and yet they had both managed to stay clothed all up untill this moment.
kissing up the staircase, his hands grasped at her waist, hoisting her into his arms, and gotten them to where they were now.
the tension had been building with every step he took, his pretty eyes watching her squirm, though he was the one to be so eager to please her. he couldn't give a shit about himself.
disheveled hair and tired, green eyes while his greedy hands roamed down her clothes, grasping at the skin of her thighs. still, he took his time as he usually did with his hands over her body, memorizing every dip in her skin.
fingers teasing under the edge of her white laced tank, bumps rising on her stomach as the material rode up her torso. he watched her nipples harden through her top, feeling his sweatpants getting tighter as he watched her subtle reactions. subtle reactions that gave him more than a little confidence in his attempts to please her.
because if he didn't then what was his purpose of living if not to please her?
his eyes remained on her the entire time, even if hers didn't meet his. she felt the burning sensation of his gaze over her heated skin. desperation for him between her thighs became increasingly unbearable, she wanted him. she needed him.
but he always took his time. it was agonizing, but she always came hard because of it.
from teasing her barely exposed skin to massaging into her ribs, he watched her expression every step of the way. it was slow, as per usual, agonizing.
his hands finally found her breasts, gently squeezing the flesh in his palms while he circled her sensitive nipples with his thumbs, exerting small noises from her.
removing one hand momentarily, he pulled down the lace of her tank, leaving messy kisses down from her collarbone to her other breast. but he didn't give her that little satisfaction, not yet.
“shhhh, patience, mon amour,” he spoke with a rasp in his voice, muffled slightly as she felt the vibrations of his voice against the flesh of her breast.
fixing her top with his other hand still teasing her chest, his hand caressed her waist under her small shorts.
trailing down the joint of her hip, his fingers traveled slowly down to and along her inner thigh before dipping under the fabric of her shorts. he played with her panties, pulling the hem away from her slick cunt. she whined at the contact of air to her core.
he bit his lip at the sight of her, fuck she was gorgeous lying before him and so desperate for a simple touch of his hand.
his knuckles brushed over the wet patch - that he caused- on her underwear and she inhaled a sharp gasp. he tsk’d at her reaction, shaking his head with a smirk on his face.
“tu es une petite chose désespérée,” (you are a desperate little thing). he chuckled breathlessly, eyeing her body squirm at such simple actions from him, “très sensible…” (very sensitive).
he teased her with words she could only guess the meaning of, pulling the hem of her panties back only to release it from between his fingers to slap back onto her skin. the sound filled the silence of the room and she flinched slightly at the feeling.
though she didn't have much time to react in any other way when his two fingers ran up her wet cunt, her folds rubbing against the soft cotton of her soaked panties. he teased her clit, rubbing circles with his thumb in an agonizing pace.
biting her lip and grasping at the pillows above her head, she clenched her thighs around his hand, trapping his fingers out of desperacy to feel more.
he only chuckled at her need, her attempt for a sliver of control. because he knew she had none.
he still managed to slip his hands away from her core despite her desperacy to keep him close and use him, which he didn't mind, but he preferred to have control. the warm hand from her chest emerging from the bottom of her lace tank to pry her legs apart, which didn't take much force from him. though she whined at the lack of contact.
hands placed on her knees, sliding his callused hands down the front of her thighs to rest at the point on her waist the top of her shorts rested. firmly grasping handfuls of the flesh of her hips, he tugged her body sharply against his.
unfortunately for her, his hands left her side - which she objected to - for merely five seconds to slip his blue shirt from his torso.
“calme,” (quiet) his tone was firm, yet a smirk etched its way onto his face as he saw the way her face changed as his toned torso was now in full view for her to marble at.
he let her as her fingertips barely reached his skin. she returned the smirk as she saw the rising goosebumps from the sensation of her nails down his abs before reaching where his v-line was interrupted by the tops of his sweatpants.
he shook his head at her actions, catching her wrists with both his hands and pushing them into the pillows above her head. “it's your turn now, belle,” his voice was raspy as he whispered in her ear. fingers fidgeting with the hem of her tank as he waited for her permission.
instead of giving it to him, she’d rather try to turn the teasing back on him, but unlike her, he loved the show she gave as she peeled her top from her body slowly.
on contact with the cold air, her nipples hardened again and charles could swear he salivated at the sight of her bare chest, as if he hadn't seen it plenty of times in the past.
“tu es trop jolie pour moi, ma chérie,” (you are too pretty for me, my dear) he muttered under his breath, hands full of her breasts as he couldn't resist himself.
okay, maybe her slow strip-tease did work on him a little bit. a little too well because now he wanted to see all of her.
shuffling his way till he stood at the foot of the bed, hastily slipping off his sweatpants without breaking his gaze on her body. the rise and fall of her bare chest, her hands returned to their spot on the pillows, her legs now crossed and hips moving to find friction against the cotton of her clothes to give her something to go off of. biting her lip as she tried, all while he watched.
the sound of his sweatpants hitting the floor as he disregarded them across the room, his attention on her never faltering as she watched him crawl across the bed back to her.
his toned shoulders and biceps, veiny forearms and hands, eyes locked on hers, disheveled hair and half-lidded eyes. the heat of his gaze made her squirm as he crawled back up to her, bodies pressed together as his head once again dipped into the crevice of her neck.
kissing down her body, he went further, and further, and further till he stopped at her stomach, hands on her hips to her thighs to unknot them just enough. hands back to her hips to lift her just slightly and with his fingers around the hem of her shorts and panties, slowly slid them down.
he's so pretty when he goes down on her, green eyes watching as he dipped lower, and lower, and lower. gold-skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry now across the room.
his warm breath against her stomach as he watched her carefully, analyzing every little movement and subtle reaction. every brow crease, mouth twitched, nose flare, every swallow and gulp that traveled down her throat, small fly-aways from her hair starting to matte down to her skin.
biting her lip as he lowered down her body, dangerously close to the spot between her thighs. close enough to feel his breath against her thighs, and he could feel the warmth radiating from her.
anticipation building in her stomach, hips rolling to close the gap from his face to her cunt, but his hands holding her down firmly stopped her. a whine in desperation slipping past her lips, pushing her head further back into the pillow in anguish.
“regarde-moi, chérie.” (look at me, darling) he spoke so sweetly, yet so tauntingly, like he'd never give in to what she wanted if she didn't do what he needed her to.
“charles, please…” she begged because she wasn't entirely paying attention to what he was asking of her, especially when he spoke another language. she didn't have time for translation.
he shook his head, pressing his face into her inner thigh as he chuckled at her tone, so needy and only for him.
“look at me, amour,” he repeated in english after kissing her thigh.
now propped up on her forearms, watching her beloved monégasque boyfriend looking back at her with a smug smirk on his face.
she scowled back at his expression, opening to make a snarky comment about it. her jaw hung open after he finally closed the gap after waiting too long, his tongue licking a single stripe up her cunt.
she rolled her eyes in annoyance, falling back down into her pillows as she groaned in annoyance, “fuck you, charles.”
“i’m sure you'd love to, darling,” he teased before tasting her again, humming into her cunt which incited a hand through his hair, pushing him closer and a whine to slip past her lips.
when he'd done enough teasing for his own enjoyment, he indulged further into her core. his hands snaking around to the crevice where her thigh met her hip to pull her further into him.
squeaked moans barely making it out of her mouth as he worked away at her clit, her hand in his dark hair to push him closer in fear he would stop.
nips at her folds and whines whenever he would do so, tugging a little harder on his hair causing groans from him. vibrations of his groans through her clit, stimulating her more and more.
legs trembling as her thighs clamped tightly around him, and he didn't dare stop her. he was in heaven. she was sweet, perfect in contrast to her bitter attitude only seconds ago. he nearly broke eye contact when he was first reminded of how she tasted.
caressing her hips, he refused to part with her cunt, his lips coated with her slick as he heard the pattern of her moans falter.
she was so easy to tie in knots, and so easy to untangle too, shuddering harshly as she barely let out a moan. tugging tighter at his hair, pulling him closer as if he would leave her unsatisfied as she came undone on his tongue.
he didn't stop after the first, or the second. it wasn't until she was close to her third that he even considered a break. after the second, his pace slowed to small movements from his tongue, lightly teasing her now sensitive clit.
soft tears ran down her cheeks at the overstimulation between her legs, but she didn't stop him. it felt too damn good.
the third came the slowest, but hardest as he managed to coax it out of her patiently.
by the time he had pulled away, his hair was even more messy than before, her slick covered his lips and chin, his tongue licking away the remnants of her on his face. his shoulder slightly red at her barely clawing away at his skin.
by the time he had pulled away, tears streamed down her cheeks, hair matted to her forehead, her arched back dropping down the sheets, and her hands that were previously in his hair now gripped tightly at the pillows by her head. her eyes, hazy and tired, her chest rising and falling with hastened breaths as he crawled up to her, running a hand through her equally-matched messy hair and wiping stray tears that he caused, even though he knew it wasn't a bad thing.
without a word, he got up, leaving to slip into their bathroom. she heard the faucet run from her position on the bed and she rolled to the edge, peeking at his actions.
she knew he would take tender care of her, no different to how he did so every time.
—
proofread by @foreveralbon <333
#formula 1#formula 1 drivers#formula one#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#cl16 one shot#cl16 x y/n#cl16 x you#cl16 fluff#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#cl16 fic#cl16 smut#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#charles x reader#charles smut#f1#f1 x you#charles x you
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🛏 Too Many Beds
*part of the reverse tropes series*
Pairing: Lando Norris x Engineer!Reader
Genre: Fluff/Humor
Summary: Lando had a master plan to get you in his bed. Too bad everyone seems to mess it up. And who knew you were terrified of bed bugs?
this was so much fun to write and I'm so excited for this mini series! New upload schedule will probably be Reputations on Friday and Reverse Tropes on Saturday!
TAG LIST CLOSED
Your hand gripped your suitcase as you stood in the lobby of the hotel. Of course, McLaren thought that it would be a good idea for some more team bonding before the season started and book an entire hotel. However, they forgot to mention that some of the people had to share rooms.
How you got placed with Lando, you didn’t know. You had seen Oscar snickering earlier when Zac had read the list of who shared what room. Your face was beat red as you tried to hide in your team zip up. Your eyes flickered to Lando, only to find him fast asleep against the window of the bus. There was some drool on his lip, and anyone else would have found that semi-disgusting.
But not you.
It was kind of…endearing.
But now that you were getting your key card and were in the elevator with a very sleepy Lando, your heartrate increased. You had tried to get your own room when you had gotten there, but Zac was intent with you sharing.
Something about driver and engineer comradery.
The floor before when Oscar got off, he had leaned over and whispered, “Have fun with the one bed.”
That statement made your face even redder. Of course that would happen to you. It was straight out of Tumblr or Wattpad. The one trope that you seemed to hate over everything. One bed normally meant that it was a single or a queen. And you were known for flopping everywhere.
Poor Lando probably wouldn’t get to sleep before the first rounds of development.
Although he was sleepy, Lando, on the other hand, was vibrating with excitement.
He had the whole thing planned out. He had requested to be put in a room with you. And then he swapped rooms with Oscar, because the Aussie had a girlfriend, ergo he had a single bed room. It was going to be perfect. Oscar would get the room with two beds, and Lando would just have to share a bed with you.
The Briton had had heart eyes for you ever since you joined his rookie season in 2019. And when you had been promoted to his race engineer, the crush he had grew tenfold. He could see your face getting more red the longer it took to get to the room.
“You ready?” he asked you before he used his card to unlock the door.
“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, just wanting to sleep. At this point, you were planning to go to bed right away so that you didn’t have to deal with Lando crawling into bed behind you. You’d be asleep at that point, giving yourself no time to ogle at his chest (if he slept with a shirt off as most guys did.)
The click of the lock indicated that the door could be opened and Lando took the initiative. This was it.
Lando was going to live his dream.
Except, his heart dropped when he noticed that there wasn’t one bed.
There wasn’t even two beds.
The room had three beds.
What. the. actual. fu....
Lando was going to kill whoever messed this up. His heart dropped farther when he saw your eyes kind of light up at the sight of beds to choose from. The McLaren driver bit his lip as he assessed the problem.
You missed Lando’s agitation and put your things on the bed by the window. You turned to Lando, now confused at his pinched eyebrows.
“Did you want the one by the window?” you asked, suddenly mad at yourself for just going ahead without asking the driver his preference.
Lando immediately shook his head. “I like sleeping by the bathroom.”
You gave him a smile. “Ok. Can I shower real fast? I go to sleep a little early.”
That was a lie. You just didn’t want to be awake when Lando went to bed. Who knows what you’d be staring at. Your mind immediately went to the abs and v-line. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the unholy thoughts.
You quickly opened your suitcase, grabbed your pajamas, and disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Once Lando was sure that you wouldn’t come out, he quickly pulled out his phone and texted Oscar. It was to his horror that Oscar had sent a picture of the singular king that was supposed to hold you and Lando in tonight.
Except that now it would be for Oscar and Oscar only.
The Briton wanted to rip his hair out. He started pacing before he knew it.
How could he fix this?
He could lie and say he had separation anxiety and needed to sleep with someone. But you’d see right through and ask who else he’d shared a bed with.
He could spill a drink on your bed? That also wouldn’t work because then you’d question why he had a drink around your things while you were in the shower. Lando didn’t want to come off as a giant creep.
He was still pacing when he heard the door open up.
His body turned to face you, but he immediately averted his eyes. Not because you were undressed, but because your pajamas were the cutest thing on you. You were wearing one of those silk tank tops with the smallest shorts possible.
Lando watched as your feet got closer to your bed. His thoughts were flying around at 100 miles an hour. He had to do something quickly. Your hand pulled back the bedding when Lando yelled.
“Hold on. I think I saw some bugs on my bed and yours.”
The screech that you let out made Lando wince. You reeled back as though the duvet had burnt you. You quickly made your way closer to Lando.
“Where are the bed bugs?”
Lando couldn’t really tell, but he thinks he can hear your teeth chattering. You were getting antsy.
“Are you that scared of some small bugs?”
You crept closer to Lando.
“My childhood house got infected and we had to move. I also got such a bad infection from bites.”
Lando immediately felt terrible. He didn’t know. If he had, he wouldn’t have said anything and just sucked it up and slept in his own bed. He looked at you. He could see that you were close to tears. His arm immediately went around your shoulders and brought you closer.
You huffed. “Can we go down to see if they have any other rooms on our floor?”
The brunet nodded. He looked you up and down before he turned around and dug through his suitcase. You wondered what he was doing before a hoodie hit your chest. It was the dark green one that you absolutely loved on him. You gave him a confused look.
“Ah, your pajamas.”
Oh.
You looked down and realized that you were just in a very thin tank.
Without a bra.
And the room was cold.
Your face flushed as you quickly pulled the hoodie over your head. The ends of the hoodie landed mid-thigh. You knew Lando was taller than you, but you didn’t expect his hoodie to fall that far down.
Lando couldn’t take his eyes off you and you giggled and did a little spin, showing off how the green material looked on you.
You were so worried that you’d have a staring problem, that you completely missed Lando’s staring problems.
Once you were done, you headed to the doorway, Lando hot on your feet. He should have felt guilty about lying, but you were in his clothes and that made every feeling go away. The elevator ride was quiet, but comforting instead of awkward. The ding of the machine signaled that you two made it to the ground floor.
Lando stepped out first, followed by you. Before you got to the front desk, Lando pulled the back of the hoodie, making you halt. You gave him a confused look. He dug his wallet out of his back pocket and handed you his card.
“I know you’re a bit scared of the bugs, so I’ll handle it. You want to get us some snacks?”
Lando melted at your eyes lighting up as you nodded. You wordlessly took his card and spun around, now walking in the direction of the little shop. He knew that you were always picky with snacks, so he’d have a bit of time.
He exhaled heavily as he walked up to the front desk. The receptionist cocked an eyebrow, probably not expecting anyone at this late hour.
His hands rested on the counter.
“So, me and a friend are staying in room 444, and I might have seen a few bed bugs on one of the beds.”
Lando winced as he lied. The lady’s eyes widened and she started typing.
“Ok, we’ll have someone come up and inspect it with one of our bug-dogs.”
Another wince. “Is that really necessary? Can we just move rooms?”
Some more typing. “I don’t think that’s possible sir. We have to inspect the room just in case. If it’s all clear, then the room will still be able to be slept in.”
Lando looked around before leaning in slightly.
“Ok, here’s the deal. I’m in love with the friend that I’m staying with. We were supposed to have a room with a single bed so I could make a move. But something happened and we got placed in a room with three beds instead of one. I panicked and lied about the bugs. Is there any way I can just switch rooms? I'll pay extra.”
Lando had hope in his eyes as he heard more typing.
“I’m sorry sir, but there aren’t any more rooms available for tonight. You’ll have to stay in the room you have.”
He hung his head as he nodded.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he muttered. When he turned around, he was met with you holding multiple snacks and some drinks. He hoped that you hadn’t heard anything. Thankfully, you didn’t mention his conversation.
As you walked into the elevator you asked, “So do we get to move rooms?”
Lando sighed. “There aren’t any available.”
You chewed on your lip. “Maybe, we can look at the middle bed and see if there are any there?”
He could kiss you right then and there. Lando went quiet for a minute.
“Only if that’s ok with you?”
You immediately nodded.
“I just don’t want any bugs on me. I think you’ll be able to keep me safe.”
The attempt at the wink that followed made Lando laugh as he got off the elevator. You couldn’t help but giggle as you followed him. Lando thought it was the cutest thing he ever heard. When you stepped into the room, you first headed to your luggage to pull it off the “bug infested” bed.
You placed it high on one of the dressers. Lando followed in suit.
Before you knew it, you and Lando were both under the covers of the middle bed after a full inspection that it was safe.
Lando was a bit skeptical that you hadn’t pushed to inspect the bed you were supposed to sleep in. Part of him wanted to believe that you also wanted to share a bed. But he wouldn’t dwell on the thought.
The snacks that you bought were quickly consumed, laughter shared between the two of you as you watched videos on Lando’s phone. You didn’t know exactly when it happened, but your head had started to rest on his shoulder. Lando took this opportunity to put his arm around the back of your neck.
Lando remained oblivious and was sure that this plan was working. You were scared and found sanctuary in his arms.
Except for the fact that you had overheard everything. Your phone was currently buzzing with messages from Oscar but you’d never let Lando know that.
Well.
You sighed as you unattached yourself from Lando’s side. You turned your face so that you could look into his eyes.
Half the time, you didn’t even know what color they were. Some days they were the brightest blue, others they looked more green, and the in the shade they were brown.
You smirked as you got closer.
“So, what did you tell the lady about getting me into your bed hm?”
You watched as a blush invaded Lando’s face before he put his hands over his face. Tik Tok was abandoned on the bedsheets below.
“I’m so sorry,” he muttered. You brought your hands up and peeled his own away from his face. Lando’s eyes flickered as he looked for some type of malice on your face. However, he only saw a smirk and a fiery look. He inhaled sharply.
“I have had a major crush on you since 2019. And when Zac said he’d be pairing people up, I begged him to get a room with one bed for us. We were supposed to switch with Oscar and this room was supposed to only have one bed. But, I guess Zac took it upon himself to already do it so I wouldn’t have to switch, but we did anyway.”
“Lando, I know. You think Oscar could keep a secret for that long?”
The brunet paused, blinked, stared at you, and blinked again.
“I’m going to kill Oscar.”
You giggled, making Lando melt once again.
“You’re not going to kill Oscar.”
A grumble escaped his lips as they turned into a pout. You took this moment to lean down and lightly peck them.
Once again, Lando froze.
“So, should we actually get some sleep?”
He could only nod his head, still not comprehending that you had actually kissed him and his plan worked semi-well.
You turned around and rested your head on the pillow. Just a few moments later, Lando’s arm found a home in the crook of your waist. He gently pulled, bringing your back closer to his chest.
So maybe he didn’t actually sleep shirtless, but that was fine because his head dug into your neck, just at your hairline. Lando breathed in deeply, getting situated.
Maybe the one bed trope did work.
You felt him smirk against your neck, but you thought he was close to sleep.
Until he spoke up.
“Sleep tight Y/n. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
“I’m going to murder you instead.”
y/n_l/n has posted
y/n_l/n I let the love bug bite 🐞 🌲
liked by mclaren, lando_norizz, papayaduo, oscarpiastri, and 104,948 others
y/nxlando UHHH HARD LAUNCH??
papaya.nation I knew that sweatshirt looked familiar when they walked in the paddock today!
landonorris4 the fact that he had a back up hoodie as well
formulala_delulu the couple who matches together - stays together 💚
oscarpiastri good to see that it all worked out in the end 😌
y/n_l/n let's not do that again, ok?
landonorris I thought you liked it tho 😙
y/n_l/n let it be know, you don't possess any rizz
oscarpiastri 🫵😂
loscar I need to know the lore behind this
norris4ever maybe he'll get a win now that he doesn't have to pine after y/n
mclaren814 my parents!
TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis @e-nonsense
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playing cupid.
Carlos Sainz x Reader
[Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan]
Word Count: 9.7K
You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.
this was a request!
always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼
“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.
Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.
“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.
“What?”
"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”
“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”
“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”
You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”
Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.
"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God��"
"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,
"Spit in your face."
His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”
"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."
And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.
"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.
Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”
You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.
The warmth of his body against you is comforting.
"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.
"You better.”
Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.
Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.
You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."
Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”
“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.
After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.
“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”
“What?”
Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."
It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.
He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.
And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.
You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.
Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.
But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?
You were not expecting that at all.
The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.
Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.
That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.
Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.
"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."
"In that, he's absolutely right."
"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."
You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.
But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.
“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.
"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."
"Doesn't he race this weekend?"
"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"
"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."
"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”
“Noted. So, this weekend?”
“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”
You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”
Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.
Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.
hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal
hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back
But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?
you: hm? no?
hot wheels guy: why not?
you: you went golfing with my dad!!!
hot wheels guy: and?
hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad?
you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan?
you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here
hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend?
you: 🙄
hot wheels guy: stop being a brat
you: 🙄
hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad
hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird?
you: YES !!!!
hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic
hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me
hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t
you: they will
hot wheels guy: so you know what to do
Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.
And you were grateful for that.
The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.
Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.
However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.
You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.
There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.
Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.
“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."
You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."
"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."
And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.
you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us
you: what do i do?
He takes a couple of hours to text back.
hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already?
you: i tried to!
The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.
It’s a terrible schedule.
You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.
The perfect recipe for a restless night.
Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.
On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.
And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.
You’re not feeling it.
Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.
So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.
The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.
As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.
Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.
As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.
Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.
In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.
From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”
You take a deep breath.
Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.
"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”
“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.
Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”
“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”
In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.
“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”
"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”
A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.
“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."
Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.
“Should we?”
As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.
“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”
With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.
So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”
“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”
Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.
“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.
"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”
“No, and I don’t intend to.”
"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”
Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.
“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”
Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”
And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”
Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”
Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.
With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”
Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.
You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”
“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”
“And?”
“Play along. Let him have it.”
There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.
“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”
“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”
“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”
He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”
You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”
“Of course, I do,” he assures.
That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”
As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.
“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.
Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”
You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”
Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”
You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”
He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.
“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”
You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.
You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.
“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”
“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”
“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”
“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”
Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”
Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.
When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.
papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game?
papà: no use in saying no
papà: you already missed two weeks
you: 🙄🙄🙄
you: i’ll meet you there!
You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.
“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.
It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.
“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”
Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”
“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”
Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”
Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”
"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."
“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”
Of. Course.
As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.
"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.
You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"
You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.
"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.
It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.
Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?
You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.
"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."
“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”
He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.
"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.
"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."
He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"
"The dating thing. We're not dating."
"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.
You shake your head. "Nope."
"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.
The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.
Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.
After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.
You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"
The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.
Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.
"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.
"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.
He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"
"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"
"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."
You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”
Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."
"Oh, God, you're such a prick."
He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"
You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.
"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"
You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.
"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”
"Good luck at those, then.”
“Really appreciate it.”
Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.
And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.
It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.
Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.
Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.
Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.
As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.
And life happens for those two weeks.
It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.
And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.
“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.
“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.
Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.
And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.
After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.
For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.
Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.
Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.
Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?
But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.
You frown.
She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.
You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.
you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him?
hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you
hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me
you: well it actually does sound interesting
hot wheels guy: so you’re coming?
you: perhaps
hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters
you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too?
hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil
hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you
you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course
hot wheels guy: and about me?
you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution
One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.
“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.
“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”
A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.
“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”
“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.
He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.
When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.
Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.
You can get used to this.
You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.
According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.
You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.
It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.
But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.
So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.
Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.
This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.
There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.
The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.
"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.
Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.
“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”
Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.
The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.
And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.
Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.
“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.
And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.
This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.
The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.
Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.
“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”
You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.
“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”
Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."
Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.
"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.
And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.
“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"
You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."
A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.
“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."
Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.
It’s time.
"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."
Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."
“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.
He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”
Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.
“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”
“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”
“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”
I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated.
Thank you for the request! 🫶
#Carlos Sainz#Carlos Sainz Jr#Carlos Sainz x Reader#Carlos Sainz x You#Carlos Sainz Smut#Carlos Sainz Fanfic#Carlos Sainz Imagine#Formula 1 x Reader#Formula 1 x You#F1 x Reader#F1 x You#F1 Imagine#F1 One Shot#Driver x Reader#F1 Driver x Reader#Driver x You#F1 Driver x You#F1 Fanfic#FanF1ction
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Human Shield - F1 Grid
Request from @kissjde - omg that one vid of the girl using carlos as a shield kinda for when they were spraying champagne🫠 can u like somehow make a fic of that??
I think you wanted a Carlos fic, but I kind of have an idea for an F1 grid fic that I think would be perfect for this. So...sorry if you hate it 🥴
Red Bull driver!reader
Y/n swallows as she gets into the Red Bull cockpit.
She's been in the car for testing but in Bahrain but they'd altered things for the first race weekend based on data and feedback thanks to testing.
Taking it out on the track for a proper race weekend is scary.
Helmut took a risk with y/n. He insisted she could handle the mature team after test driving some FP1 sessions last season. But now it's the real thing.
Now she's in the Red Bull and going out on track to really prove herself.
"You got this, love." Her mechanic, Eric smiles patting the top of her helmet before helping strap her in. "Remember, just have fun. You're here living the dream."
"You think?" She jokes but the nerves spiking in her voice just earns her a sympathetic look.
Suddenly when she is face with another helmet leaning into her cockpit.
Max has been weirdly protective over y/n, she's faced a lot of backlash almost similar to his. But hers is very much gender targeted just as much as a question of her experience. But he's been incredibly protective and he always tries to make sure that she's not letting her nerves get the better of her.
"I wanted to come say. I want to see you smiling out there and I'll be able to tell." Max states patting her bicep which makes her smile and nod at him.
Max pats her helmet before heading over this own car.
"Radio check, bubs." Her race engineer, Rocky (yes, THE Rocky) states into her radio. Using a nickname he'd given her since she'd came into the Red Bull juniors programme.
He was in charge of mentoring and guiding a lot of juniors and with the promotion of her into F1 and directly into the Red Bull team. They wanted her to have someone she was familiar with on her radio just to at least give her that comfort and Rocky knows how she works better than anyone else.
"Radio check, loud and clear." Y/n replies swallowing to herself.
When she gets out on track she's acutely aware that cameras are very much keeping an eye on her.
"We're just getting a feel of the track, trying out engine set ups remember. No pressure you just trust your feel." Rocky states into her ears as she gets out the pit line.
"And there is y/n y/l/n." Crofty states as the cameras very much do immediately change to watch her. "The world watched her closely in testing. She didn't make any mistakes that we didn't at least see from Max. Now she's out on track."
"She is. I'm quite looking forward to seeing y/n show us what she's capable of. Of course, Red Bull has been quite...kind to her with bringing her in. They've brought in Rocky who worked with Seb but had moved to work more with the junior Red Bull drivers. He's on her radio, they've been very defensive of anyone who has tried to declare her unfit for the seat." Martin explains then sighing. "Now we just need to see what y/n's got and she's got to just put it out on the track."
FP1 ends with her in getting the 4th fastest time. But FP1 doesn't equate to a whole weekend of top 5 performances.
"Hey, bubs." Rocky smiles as she climbs out the car and walks up to him. "Ready for data?"
"Ready." Y/n nods with a small smile.
-
Y/n actually feels comfortable getting into the car for FP2.
Which is where she makes her first error. Because she should've known being confident in the car would lead to disaster.
There's almost some racing going on and that's when she becomes a victim as she tries to keep out the way of approaching cars. George and Lewis are apparently racing? (idc if people hate me I love making George and Lewis enemies, they basically are irl 🤣)
George gives Lewis a puncture and he smashes into the side of y/n. Actually it hurts more than she was expected when people had warned her of the pain of a crash. His car t-boning her ends up pushing her into the wall too. It's only good she wasn't going fast and he'd somewhat slowed down.
"Y/n? Are you ok?" Rocky's voices asks on the radio.
"Yeah, fuck! What the fuck were they doing?" Y/n questions then sighing.
"Car is safe. P0 then you can get out when you're ready." Rocky sighs making her huff before she quickly detached and unplugs everything, climbing out the car and putting the steering wheel back before walking around to look at the damage.
Her whole engine is exposed and the sided is destroyed.
Fantastic.
George and Lewis seem to be bickering and in her own rage she jumps the wall to safety only briefly exchanging words with the marshalls before climbing on the closest moped and getting back to the paddock.
"That is not a happy woman. George and Lewis don't seem very happy but I can imagine Red Bull are speaking to race control about their actions. Very very silly to be racing each other like that and causing a crash with another team as a victim to it." Martin comments shaking his head.
"Do you think a penalty will be coming their way."
"Red Bull will certainly fight for it. That's their rookie and she sounded very upset. I'm sure Lewis and George will be called to the stewards."
"I think apologies will be owed."
Y/n gets herself weighed but her anger has the better of her and her trainer, Wyatt decides to get her to her drivers room to cool off before there's a debrief.
"It's not your fault." Wyatt states while she tries not to cry.
She hates when she cries because she's angry. But it happens.
"Hey. Come on. It is not your fault, you got out the way and got t-boned by two teammates being idiots." Wyatt sighs moving to hug her.
"It's a joke." Y/n sniffles then sighing. "I should go speak to the rest of the team."
"Ok. Let's go."
Y/n gets to the garage, half an hour still left as she walks across to the pit wall.
"Hey, you ok?" Rocky asks making her tick her jaw to restrain ranting about it. "It's fine. We'll get the car fix and we'll make sure you're nowhere near them tomorrow at any point."
"It's still not great is it?" Y/n huffs shaking her head.
"They're being spoken to by the stewards and it looks like Toto will be having words." Rocky reassures her while she sighs and nods a little.
-
FP3 is clean and qualifying sees y/n take P5.
"You did it." Max smiles picking her up in a hug as they all walk towards media.
"Yeah, rookie of the year in the bag already." Lando comments making her smile at him. "No Mercedes smashing into you. Did it not hurt? Lewis really t-boned you."
"Yeah, but I think I was too annoyed to actually car...they were acting like dicks. I'm glad they got penalised for it." Y/n sighs still not exactly having forgiven the Brits in their interterm idiocy towards each other.
The three divide, each with a comms team member who leads them to their given interviews.
"Y/n, a much cleaner Saturday than Friday." The interviewer states as y/n stands in the media pit. "How are you feeling? Especially after quite a nasty hit."
"Significantly better day. I feel fine, maybe some very little aches but nothing major." Y/n smiles with a nod. "P5 not bad for a first qualifying. And I only plan to move up from there for the rest of the races."
"I love the optimism and confidence. I know I speak for so many people that we are rooting for you."
"Thank you." Y/n laughs then moving forward and hugging the interviewer. "Really, thank you."
-
The driver's parade saw all oft he drivers surrounding y/n like she's just the most popular person. Pulling her away for an interview with Laura actually saw Max have to be forced to stop hugging her with Lando and Carlos pulling her teammates arms from around her.
That quickly created rumours online of them dating.
But Max is definitely more like a friend who almost acts like a brother.
"You got this. We believe in you." Carlos states as she grins at him, blowing him and Lando a kiss as they walk to their cars after the anthem.
Y/n gets her helmet and hans device on while Wyatt smiles at her looking like he's beaming with pride, just seeing her go into her first race.
"Alright, feel good?" Wyatt asks making her nod. "Go on then, time to go show the world they're fucking morons."
"I will." Y/n grins fist bumping him before she moves climbing into the cockpit.
They get her strapped in and suddenly she's on her own.
"Radio check bubs." Rocky calls into her ears.
"Radio check." Y/n calls back before he tells her all the tyre choices of the other drivers.
"Formation lap. Then let's go racing."
"Thank you, Rocky."
The formation lap feels as if it goes in the blink of an eye and she's back on the grid, waiting for everyone to finish getting into their grid slots.
"Everyone on grid." Rocky states making her get the ready, watching the lights.
Lights out and while she tries not to dwell on it, her start was as good as she felt it could've been. Now she just needs to stay out of trouble.
Primarily away from anyone who wants to use their teammate as a means of smashing into her.
Driving around Bahrain and pushing, listening to every single thing Rocky says and making sure she speaks back. She doesn't want to know who is in front or who is behind unless they're a threat or an opportunity.
"Y/n is...storming. You'd really think she may be using some of that residue upset from Friday in today. She definitely wasn't afraid to tell people that she was unhappy with both Mercedes drivers and felt their penalties were deserved. Lewis even said she'd unapologetically told him and George both that she wasn't impressed and they had grovelling to do." Martin states making Crofty chuckle.
"I think they might be wise to grovel. She seems like someone you'd want to stay on the good side of." Crofty admits while Martin hums in agreement.
The race continues, and she keeps going not even thinking as she does everything she can to just...make progress. Clean pitstops help and she's just relieved that they have done what they needed to do.
"Last lap, bubs. You got this. Push and go for fast lap if you want, no risk." Rocky states and actually she's surprised to hear they're in the last lap. Has it really been that long?
She's sort of had tunnel vision, her mind had number out the idea of anything else but the track in front or behind her.
Y/n gets herself around the track pushing as hard as possible.
"P3! P3! Fastest lap. Driver of the day and a podium!" Rocky exclaims as she hears cheers in the background with her name being chanted.
"Holy shit. Holy shit. Fucking hell." Y/n exclaims laughing as she waves out the cockpit. "This is insane. Holy fuck. Max P1?"
"Max P1. Carlos P2. Behind you, Charles and Lando then Oscar."
"Oh my fuck-fuck! Rocky!"
"You just get back here bubs. I'll be waiting for you."
Y/n actually maybes goes a bit fast for her in lap. But when she pulls up knocking the P3 sigh. Max and Carlos are always there. She doesn't even properly get out before Max has rushes to her tosses her around in a hug before she is placed down, running to the team who are admittedly more excited for her than they were to see Max take the win.
"Now that is a beautiful sight. The celebrations of a drivers first podium, her first ever race a rookie. I think we've got a lot more to see from y/n and actually I'd say Max may need to worry that y/n's about to threat to him. It might be early to say this, but y/n might be his first teammate since Daniel who may pose a real challenge." Crofty states over the broadcast while they watch y/n get weighed, finally released from the clutches of her team.
Though almost every other driver appears moving to want to congratulate her.
"Good for both of them and he seems to love y/n already. They have really got a bond that we see between the best of teammates." Martin states since Max has had some great teammates but y/n could be the best of them.
Y/n and the boys get up tot he cool down room where Carlos also picks her up hugging her tightly and spinning her around.
"You are amazing, y/n." Carlos grins then placing her down. "We will give you the best podium."
Y/n laughs as Max begins yapping about some of the footage which is being shown.
Eventually they're out on the podium, y/n first, then Carlos and then Max.
Trophies are present and Max gets his medal and that's when it dawns on y/n that Max seems to be about to dump his whole bottle on her.
"No!" Y/n laughs only just managing to not drop her bottle as she tries to run around Max and use Carlos as a human shield which almost works.
If Carlos didn't tip his entire bottle over his head behind him to perfectly pour onto her.
"Ahhh, no! Carlos, you traitor." Y/n squeals jumping back leaving her in the line of fire from Max who showers her in champagne.
"Enjoy it!" Max exclaims making her grin but she returns the gesture as Carlos sprays the champagne onto Max then turns finishing spraying what little is left onto y/n as she showers him too.
"Alright. Alright. We need to get off." Y/n laughs moving to the podium and picking up her trophy as she poses with the boys. "God, I think you've blinded me. My eyes sting."
-
"We watched y/n take a rookie, maiden podium and Red Bull have not stopped their cheering. After the podium and debrief, they did their team photo. Of course and she tried to use Max as a human shield to not be soaked to the skin in Red Bull. That failed in the same way that her podium shielding using Carlos failed. I think last time I saw her, she was trudging very carefully through the paddock looking quite sticky." Ted chuckles as he does his notebook post-race.
"You talking about me?" Y/n exclaims with a smile, appearing cleaned thanks to a quick shower in her drivers room.
Max is walking alongside her with Wyatt and Rupert walking with both the drivers.
"I am. Any very quick comments?" Ted smiles as she nears him.
"Uhh...Red Bull is very hard to wash out your hair. I don't recommend having it poured over your head in gallons." Y/n laughs then fist-bumping Ted. "You have a good night, Ted."
"You have a very good night. I know there's whispers of celebrations for both of you. Enjoy that guys."
"We will!"
Max laughs shaking his head at his teammate who grins walking alongside him.
"Next podium, I am terrorising you with champagne by the way and since you didn't protect me. I'm tackling you when the Red Bull comes out to be sprayed everywhere."
"You shouldn't have told me. I'll just use you as the human shield." Max grins while she nudges him and shakes her head.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess @racingheartsposts @c-losur3
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#f1 grid#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#max verstappen#carlos sainz#lando norris#oracle red bull racing#red bull f1#red bull racing#red bull formula 1#red bull team#rbr#f1 grid imagine#f1 grid x reader#f1 grid x y/n#f1 grid fanfic#f1 grid fic#f1 grid x you#f1 x you#f1 grid one shot#f1 one shot#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#red bull driver!reader#f1 2024
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Lando is secretly dating a girl he knew from high school, and she meets Daniel Ricciardo at one point, Lando brings y/n to a race very discreetly and there is some jealousy with Daniel and it ends up with a quickie in his motor room, and lastly their relationship is exposed in some way
Please☺️
You're mine and it's time to let them know II Lando Norris x Reader ⓈⒽⓌ
SUMMARY: Lando has loved nothing more than to have you all to himself for so long but it only takes Daniel Ricciardo to make sure the world hears you scream you're his.
WARNINGS: **18+**
A/N: I switched the request a little I hope you don't mind It just sort of worked better in my mind like this ;)
"You ready darling?" Lando walked into your shared bedroom after the last-minute business call he had to take. "Woah." He bit his lip eying you up and down.
"No baby...I know that look we're already running late." You couldn't hold back the smirk at the way you saw your boyfriend looking at you knowing that look would only lead to another and you'd both end up wrapped up in the sheets soon after.
"What? I don't know what you're talking about." Lando feigned innocence although he walked towards you wrapping his hands around your waist loving the way you felt in his arms especially when you looked like this.
"Lando." You said his name in a warning tone as you finished putting your earrings in.
"It's times like this I hate that we're a secret...how am I supposed to keep my hands off you tonight?" Lando pouted, his usual child-like behavior showing.
"Well you've done for 6 years I'm sure you'll manage another night." You smiled grabbing your boyfriend's hand before guiding him out.
"At least let me kiss you." Lando stopped and pulled you back you as you were about to open the front door.
"I just put lip gloss on." You pouted this time.
Lando obviously didn't find a problem with this as he happily took your pout as an invitation to close the space between you both and kiss you a little more intensely than you'd thought he meant.
By the time he pulled away, Lando knew he had left you in a daze. "Lan-" your breath skipped as you saw the lip gloss around your boyfriend's lips.
"That should do for a few hours," Lando smirked as he took his fingers wiping the gloss that had spread around your lips and proceeded to use the back of his sleeve to wipe the excess around his own lips before exciting through the front door.
________
You arrived on separate cars not being new to the hundreds of cameras that would be waiting at the entrance to the gala. After so many years of hiding their relationship, everything was rehearsed when they were in public.
It was fun, you thought almost like your own Hannah Montana movie. People knew who you were, completely aware to your ties with Lando from being classmates in high school to working together in the same industry now.
That's at least as much as the public knew. They weren't familiar with the longer version of the story where Lando and you had actually been more than classmates in high school and were in fact in a long relationship and had mutually decided to work in the same industry to stay together.
Lando of course had always dreamt of being a driver and wanting to stay close to him but also sharing a passion for communication you'd been offered a job as communication manager for McLaren allowing you to stay close, but not close enough for people to suspect there was more.
So thankfully it also wasn't odd for you to appear at the F1 gala as you had been invited ever since you'd started working with McLaren.
What was unexpected though was the fact that a certain someone would take the opportunity to make a move now that he wasn't going to be in the team anymore.
"You look beautiful." Daniel walked to you a drink in hand before he took another one from a passing waiter handing out glasses of champagne.
"Thank you, Dani, you clean up well too." Daniel handed you the new drink as you chose to reply kindly not a stranger to men trying to hit on you but another driver was certainly new territory.
"You know when we were working I was certain you had to be seeing someone but coming to the gala with a dress as gorgeous as this without someone by your side...that is a surprise." Daniel was a lot more intense than you'd expected making you choke on your drink.
"Uhmm...actually-" You were interrupted before you could come up with something.
"y/n come dance with me." Lando walked up to you placing his hand low on your back which took you completely by surprise.
"I was actually hoping to dance with her myself-" Daniel laughed with Lando except Lando didn't seem to find the humor.
"Hmm was always faster wasn't I?" You gasped at the insinuation and watched Dani's smile drop but before you could say anything else Lando had taken your hand and was taking you somewhere.
"Lando!" You shouted after your boyfriend who didn't seem like would stop until he got to his destination.
Lando didn't stop until you were both in a secluded hallway.
"Lando what the fuck wa-" But before you could say anything else Lando had pulled you in holding your waist tightly into him and kissing you passionately.
"You're mine okay? I'm tired of hiding it." He whispered and you could feel his breath tickle your lips as you tried to process what was happening.
"Lan where did this come from?" You weren't exactly opposed to the idea of finally going public but you certainly didn't think today would be the day.
"I just...I'm having a hard time keeping my hands off you in this dress." Lando smirked repeating his words from a few hours earlier before he took your hand once more pulling you into the men's bathroom and locking the door after him.
"Lando what has gotten into you!" Your smile deceived you as Lando picked you up and sat you on the bathroom counter.
"Can't a man just show his girlfriend how much he fucking loves her?" Lando smirked as he kneeled in front of you and wasted no time in attacking the space between your legs.
"Ahh-" You were breathless in seconds as Lando licked at your clothed clit for a few seconds before shoving your panties aside and sucking you directly.
"Let me see you baby-" Lando seperated his lips from you for a few seconds and you knew exactly what he meant.
You shimmied the straps of your dress off your shoulders letting Lando see your bare chest as his hand came up to cup your left boob.
"Lando please fuck me-" you begged your boyfriend as you felt yourself getting close.
"Only because we need to be quick pretty girl." Lando obliged coming up to kiss you and letting you taste yourself on his lips as he aligned himself with you.
"Mhm-" you moaned into your boyfriends lips as he pushed into you starting to set a pace immediately.
"How does that feel baby?" Lando asked.
"Mm so- so ahh-so good Lando-" You were struggling to formulate words with how good he could make you feel.
"That's it darling, let everyone hear who you're screaming for." Lando grunted.
"AHH LAN!" You weren't able to contain your volume as Lando quickened his pace without previous warning but something told you he intended for this to happen.
"Who's making you cum baby?" Lando asked as he could feel you start to clench around him.
"Ah-Ah- you- you Lan-only you-" You moaned not even sure how loud you were being but quite frankly you didn't care.
"Fuck...that's it." Lando was satisfied enough as he slowed his pace after fucking you through your orgasm and finishing himself. "That's it, darling." He kissed you softly, a clear contrast to the way he'd just fucked you seconds before.
"Everyone's gonna know now Lan-" you commented as you pulled the straps back over your shoulder and Lan cleaned you up gently.
"That was the idea yes-" Lando smirked proudly planting a kiss to the inside of your thigh before pulling your dress down and patting it down for you.
"Was the idea everyone or Dani?" You asked laughing to yourself knowing how childish your boyfriend could be.
"Hmm let's say one of those was an added bonus" He winked as he watched you fix your hair and tried to clean yourself up a bit.
"You're insane." You turned to face your boyfriend.
"And you still said yes." He smiled before kissing you once more, proudly wrapping his arm around your waist and enjoying the rest of the night unashamedly with you by his side.
A/N: This is the first time I do a twitter au on Tumblr but don't expect them frequently cause I hate doing them I just thought it went well with this story ;)
#f1 x reader#f1#f1 imagine#changetyre#f1 one shot#f1fic#smut#f1 smut#f1smut#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris fic#fi driver x reader
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bitch, i’m a mother! | f1
female driver x f1 drivers (platonic) the reader is around the same age as daniel. i like that almost every story i read about a female driver her team ends up being porsche and I’m not mad about it :) so for this fic, the reader is driving for porsche lol also I’m just making up names for the engineers and team principal. also because I’m 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
“Y/n is so great, you’re going to love her. She’s the best.” 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.
“Hey, Lando!”
“Lando! How’s it going?”
“Norris, hey!”
Lando greeted most of the Porsche team with a smile while Oscar nodded at them. “I hang out here sometime if you couldn’t tell.” Lando joked.
“So if I can’t find you in Mclaren . . ”
“There’s a big chance I might be here.”
Oscar nodded once again. “Noted. Where’s Y/n?”
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 hadn’t seen each in a while, of course he was going to give her a hug.
“I’ll see you around, Y/n. Nice to see you, Lando, and you must be mclaren’s rookie. Welcome to F1, I’m Adam.” The Porsche team principal greeted Oscar.
“Thank you—” before Oscar could continue, Y/n cut him off.
“I’ve heard so many great things about you! And you’re an Aussie too! What is it with Mclaren and Aussies? Whatever, I’m glad you’re 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.” Oscar instantly felt at home with the female driver. She had a comforting presence that Oscar immediately took notice of.
“Told you she’s the best. Just wait until it’s your birthday. She bakes you a cake.” 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.
“Does anyone have any questions?”
Y/n raised her hand. “I wanna know who banned the pit wall celebration.”
“Anyone else?”
“Yeah, I’d like to know as well.” Lewis added.
“We can discuss pit wall celebrations at a later time. Excuse me, I am needed somewhere else.” The race director excused himself.
“Don’t worry, I don’t care about being banned. I’ll be there like a proud mom taking millions of pictures of you when you win.” Y/n whispered to Lewis as she layed her head on his shoulder.
“And I’ll be doing the same when you win.” Lewis replied.
“What 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.” Lando smiled innocently.
“Fine, win first then I’ll bake. Shouldn’t be that hard unless you got a tractor for a car.” Y/n teased. “I love you, Lando. Of course I’ll take millions of pictures of you when you win.”
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.
“Hey, that’s my grid mum!” He told his engineer as if his engineer didn’t already know. His smile quickly faded when a blonde man appeared behind Y/n in sunglasses. Lando then watched as the man’s name appeared on the tv.
Charlie Hunnam, actor.
Who was he and why was he with his grid mom?
“Hey, that’s the dude from Sons of Anarchy! My wife watches that series.” Lando heared someone say. He continued to watch the screen as Lissie asked Charlie a question about Y/n.
“She’s incredible, absolutely amazing. I’m happy I finally get to see her talent in person.” Charlie replied, smiling at Y/n which made her blush.
“He’s British . . ” he mumbled.
After Lissie thanked Y/n and Charlie for the interview, the camera kept rolling on them as they walked away. That’s when Lando saw Charlie hold Y/n’s hand then pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“She’s dating a British man and she didn’t tell me?!”
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.
“Oh, hey Lando! I was about to look for you. I want you to meet Charlie.” Y/n excused herself from Adam and introduced Charlie to her grid son.
“It’s very nice to meet you, mate. Y/n had told me a lot about you.” Charlie smiled.
“Yeah, I’ve heard nothing about you. Nada, zero, not a single thing, zilch.” Lando then turned his attention to Y/n. “I think we need to talk.”
“Okay . . ” 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. “Lando! What’s wrong? Are you nervous about today?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”
Oh.
“You always tell me everything and now I kinda feel betrayed. Especially when i also found out he’s British!” Lando said dramatically.
“Lando, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it just sorta happened. We met a few months ago and he’s made me the happiest ever since. I wanted to introduce you properly today.” Y/n explained.
“He makes you happy? Like genuinely happy? Because if he doesn’t I will run him over repeatedly.” Lando warned.
Y/n laughed and brought Lando in for a hug. “I know you would, but there’s no need for that. I think he’s the one.”
“Before you leave, there’s actually one more gift for you and you don’t have to guess who it’s from.”
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 ‘From Y/n’ in neat handwriting.
“Thank you, Y/n! I don’t even want to open it, it’s wrapped so good.” 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.
“Okay, I’ll open it, I’m too curious.” 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.
“Holy shit! Wait sorry, I can’t curse, but holy shit!” He took the jersey out of the box and admired it. “This is incredible.”
“You love it?” He heard the familiar comforting voice of Y/n from behind him. “I hope it’s the right size.” She joined Logan in front of the camera.
“It is, don’t worry,” he chuckled as he gave her a hug. “Thank you so much, I love it.”
“I think you just adopted another son.” The camera man told her.
“I love all my grid sons equally.”
#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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DEBUTANTE! ── ˙ ̟ the echo !!
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k
NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.
Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?
She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).
In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.
She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.
The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.
"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.
"It's alright, Lewis-"
"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."
"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"
"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.
"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."
Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.
"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.
"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.
"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"
The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."
She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."
Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."
The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.
The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.
“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.
"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"
The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.
"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."
Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.
"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"
"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."
The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.
The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.
"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.
The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"
"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.
Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.
"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.
"I already have one."
"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.
"Yes. WWJD."
"What does that stand for?"
"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."
The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.
Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.
"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.
She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."
Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.
Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."
The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.
"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.
"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."
A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."
A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."
With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.
Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.
She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.
"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.
"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.
The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.
The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.
As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.
Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.
"Copy." She smirked.
The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.
As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.
She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.
The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.
"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."
"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.
"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."
The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.
Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.
This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.
Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.
Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.
"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.
"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"
The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."
As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.
Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.
"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.
But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.
Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.
"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.
"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."
He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.
Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.
"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.
"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."
A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.
"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.
"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."
"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.
She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."
"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.
Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"
"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."
He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”
Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”
The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.
She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.
"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.
The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.
"Stay safe, Nando"
"You too. Give us hell"
"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.
"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."
"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.
As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.
"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.
The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.
The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.
Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.
She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.
"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."
She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.
"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.
Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?
After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.
In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.
Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."
The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.
"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"
The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.
She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”
She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.
A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.
He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.
"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."
A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.
"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."
"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.
"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.
The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.
She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.
Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.
To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.
Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.
She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"
He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.
Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.
Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.
Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."
She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.
As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.
But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)
Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.
He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"
A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.
"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."
She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."
taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley, @stinkyjax, @namgification, @judespoision, @cha-hot, @disneyprincemuke, @itsjustkhaos, @trouble-sistar, @ihateyougunthersteiner, @treehouse-mouse, @cherry-piee, @fangirl125reader, @cassie0sstuff
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drought - c.leclerc
masterlist
requested: n
pairings: husband!charles leclerc x wife!fem!reader
warnings: not intended for minors + fingering (f receiving) + minor grammatical errors!
a/n: everyone say thank you to Charles leclerc’s recent photo dump
《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》
the simulator, the meetings, the practices, the races. it’s never ending exhaustion for Charles as he struggles grappling the seasons horrid start.
he’s thankful to have someone to turn to when times get rough. his lovely wife, you. through thick and thin is what you promised each other, and right now? this was the thin. this was what was starting to tear you both further apart.
Charles spent all his time home at the simulator, or any chance he could, at the factory. you’ve spent dozens of lonely, boring, nights in your shade king size bed.
the picture frame above the headboard is no longer crooked. you’d have time to fix it into place because the reason it fell was the endless nights of sex. the headboard would bang into the wall and eventually the picture, from your wedding night, would either come falling down, or end up sideways on the hook.
it was a reminder of your once thrilling sex life has come to an end. sex was no longer something you both were actively participating in. it was rather you and a vibrator on those lonely occasions.
“headed out?” you ask, picking your head up from your book in your lap. you’d heard his heavy footsteps. his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth searching the right sneakers to wear.
“just to maman’s salon. been awhile.” he says coming into the living room to sit beside you on the couch.
you nod in agreement having not remembered the last time his beautiful brown hair was trimmed. although, you don’t mind the length, and neither did his fans. you’d encouraged him to listen to them, and at the time he laughed. then you showed him why you liked it so much. the ends being tugged between your fingers, ruffled and yanked during sex, he enjoyed the arousal. now, there was no need for it.
“tell her I say hi.” you say, soft smile forming to your lips.
he catches your eyes for a brief second when he looks up from tying his shoes. he takes the quick second to press a kiss to your cheek, “you should come by. maman would love to see you.”
you’d missed pascale. in fact, you missed his whole family. it’d been months since you’d shared a laugh with Arthur, or even held conversation with Lorenzo and his new girlfriend. while you knew the chances were slim to seeing his siblings, you still joined him in the car. it’d been the first time in weeks being in his pista.
his hand dangerously slips across the center console. his thumb strokes the skin your inner thigh that’s exposed from your biker shorts. he’s happy you’ve tagged along, he can’t remember the last time you’ve spent more than two hours together that wasn’t spent sleeping.
“I noticed you fixed the picture above our bed.” he says turning to look at you for a brief second at the stop light. you figured he hadn’t noticed, it was slight change and he rarely slept at home when he had days off. you’re sure he’s seen the toy under your side of the bed if he truly went looking.
“gives you a new challenge again.” you reply back watching the wheel spin under his hands as he pulls into the parking lot. you were finally free from his grip.
he scoffs, putting the car in park, “it was always too easy. it was never a challenge.”
a smirk forms to your lips. your words catching him before he slips out the car, “well you have a new challenge and it’s much better than you’ve been in the past month.”
—
you’re sitting in the chair beside him watching pascale trim the wet ends of his hair. a few fall in his face or around the top of the cape.
she’s happy to see you. in fact, she’s only talking to you the whole time.
she doesn’t notice how you’ve been squeezing your legs together every so often. your one leg is crossed over the other, he sees you shifting in the chair as you answer his mothers questions. he sees how turned on you’ve become watching him.
it’s funny to him. how it’s the most mundane thing ever and it’s got your pussy throbbing for him. all he’s doing is sitting in the chair allowing his mother to cut the dead ends of his hair.
he can tell whatever you were using to get off was not enough. and it was his own damn fault for choosing the simulator or the factory over pleasuring his wife’s needs.
pascale walks away to answer the phone leaving you two alone, and he swivels the chair in your direction, “I did not know this would get you so horny.”
you feel heat spread across your cheeks. you try to pull the neck of the sweatshirt over your face to hide the embarrassment of being caught.
“when we get home—“
“you think I’ll last getting home?” you cut him off before he can propose his plan. his eyes widen, a smirk toys his lips as he shakes his head seeing his mother come back into the room.
“take the keys to the pista, you’re making this hard for me.” he tosses the keys into your lap, “it’s a private parking lot. you can finish what I started.”
“I’m almost done with him. you‘ll be able to go home in no time.” pascale promises and continues to trim his hair. you watch for another couple of minutes and now she’s finally getting ready to blow dry his wet hair.
you can’t watch any longer. you’ve made up an excuse to head to his car and wait out the final minutes. you’ve turned on the air in the car and sat in the passenger seat awaiting his arrival to take you home.
your leg anxiously bounces as you hear him whistling. he opens the passenger door, takes the knob that adjusts the seat, and pushes it as far back as it goes allowing him to kneel in front of your seat.
“Charles what are you doing?” you ask watching him close the passenger door once he’s in. it’s cramped. his head is just inches close to the top of the car, your legs are nearly into your lap and suddenly it’s warm in the car. the air must’ve kicked off after a period of time running.
“taking care of something.” he leans over your lap, letting the back of the seat go as far down as it can. he moves you closer to the edge of the seat, “lift your hips.” he demands and you do as he asks, allowing him to remove your shorts.
“Charles, we can’t do this in your car—“
“nobody is here.” he points out the very obvious. not another car is in this parking lot, and there’s not a single car that has drove down this street since arriving. you were as safe as you could be under the street lights.
“come on, let me treat you right.” he coos, fingers running up and down your thighs, “I did this to you.” he reaches into your lap, fingers toying with the wet material clung to your pussy, a whine threatening at your tongue.
“can I do that? can I touch my wife?”
you nod, unable to speak any words. you push you hips up again allowing him to remove your panties. you spread your legs as far wide as you can. his index finger stretches out across your folds. it’s like a ghost against your skin, you can feel him but barely. a soft whine escapes your lips, you lean back against the seat.
“good girl,” he whispers, “just relax for me.” he says. his index finger wiggles in your entrance. his name rolls off your tongue ever so quickly, and you feel him add a second finger not even giving you a chance to respond.
your fingers go flying into his freshly cut hair, and yank on the short ends. you curse him for what he’s done, and try to grab anything you can while his fingers pump inside of you. he takes his time, discovers every single bit of you like lost treasure. a place he hasn’t tended to in awhile.
sweet whines and moans escape your lips. it’s adorable how quick you were able to fold under his touch. all it ever really took was a swipe of his finger, tongue, or anything else to get your body to fold. you were his in the matter of seconds.
you feel one of his fingers just brush your clit. your back arches, pussy clenching around his fingers. you’re begging him to do it again, and again, until you come.
he doesn’t stop until he notices your legs are visibly shaking, the car is shaking from your bodies response, and until his fingers are met with cum.
“I can’t.” you breathe out, your body itches to exhale the sweet cum he ever so loves. he’s nodding along, encouraging you to come. you throw your body back against the seat, you feel the body of the car move as you do so. sweet delicious cum finally exits your body and so do his fingers.
“that was fun wasn’t it?” he licks his index and middle finger of your cum before pulling your set up close to where it was, and he’s getting out of the car. you quickly pull your shorts back up and double check your hair.
you look him in the eyes when he slides into the drivers seat. you can see the arousal in his pants, a content smile across his face, “don’t worry, you can take care of me when we get home. I’ve got an idea in my mind.”
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc drabble#f1 driver x you#f1 imagines#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 driver x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#scuderia ferrari#f1 x you
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Charles Leclerc- Midnight Call
summary: charles gets a late night call from you
warnings: mentions of a car accident
wc: 639
Charles was home for the week, and resting peacefully in bed. He knew you were on your way, having flown in from a work trip late. But considering you hadn’t seen each other in almost a month, you had agreed easily when Charles had asked you to come to his apartment after your flight rather than his own.
So Charles was resting, but still awake enough to hear his phone buzzing on the table before you got home. “Ciao,” he rumbled sleepily, not even checking the caller ID.
“Charles,” your shaky voice echoed across the line, making his body vault up in bed on instinct.
“Whats wrong amore,” he asked, his body clenching when he heard your breath catch on tears.
“I was driving to your apartment,” you hiccuped, another sign you had been crying. Charles decided to get up and put a shirt on and find shoes. “Some man drove into me from the side. And the car won’t move. And he has been yelling through the window, and I’m scared to get out-”
“He’s yelling at you?” Charles practically shouted as he dashed to his living room to grab his keys and exit his home. “Are you hurt? Did you call the police?”
“I called the police,” you sniffed. “They haven’t arrived. I think I am ok, but this man is scaring me. And-”
“Sh, its ok my love,” he practically cooed as he jumped in his car and started the engine. “Send me your location. I am already in the car.”
“Ok,” your voice got muffled as you moved to do as he said. His phone pinged with a pin that was barely a mile from his apartment. “Will you stay on the phone with me?”
“Of course I will,” he soothed. “Do you have any pain at all? Are you sure you aren’t hurt?”
“My neck hurts a little,” you admitted, causing him to wince. He knew that even a crash at low speeds could have consequences.
“Ok love, I will be there in three minutes,” he reassured you. “Have the police arrived yet?”
“No, but I think I can hear sirens,” you went quiet for a moment. “The man is coming back over, I think he is angry I called the police.”
“Don’t talk to him,” Charles said through gritted teeth as he turned onto the road your location was on. As he drove he could hear muffled yelling on your side of the call. As soon as he saw your headlights with another car angled in front of yours, he sped up before sliding the car into park and bursting out of the door.
“Oi!” He shouted, seeing a man shouting at your window. “Back up, now.”
“Who the fuck are you,” he called back, turning his glare to Charles.
“It doesn’t matter,” Charles glared. “You can speak with the police, you don’t talk to her like that.”
“I won’t be talking to any police,” the man scoffed, even as he heard the sirens turn closer. “Look what this bitch did to my car? Nearly 500 thousand pounds-”
“Are you crazy?” Charles asked, seeing clearly where the man’s car had t boned your own. “Good luck trying to say this was her fault you lunatic. Now, don’t make me say it again. Back up.”
The man finally walked back to his car, leaving Charles to knock gently on your window. “Hi,” he reached out to cup your cheek as you rolled the window down. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that he isn’t screeching at me,” you glared at where the man was pacing on the phone. “thank you for coming. I know you were asleep.”
“Hey,” he leaned in to place a featherlight kiss to your lips. “Don’t ever apologize. You can call me at midnight whenever you want, I’ll be there.”
#charles leclerc#f1#f1 driver#charles leclerc imagine#f1 imagine#f1 driver imagine#f1 imagines#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#formula one#formula one imagine#formula 1 driver#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 driver imagine
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second time around.
ln x fem!reader
in which he’s quite desperate to have a second kid.
staying in my active era! there is honestly no excuse for this one, i just simply couldn’t help myself. it’s porn, yes, there is plot, but it’s just. porn.
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! where do i even begin? smut, more smut, breeding kink (kinda the whole point), choking, overstimulation, general sex acts, public sex, car sex, shower sex, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of the kid they already have, lando being a little shit, sex somewhere unhinged in the mtc, a brief moment of angst, dom!lando, rough sex? yeah.
3.9k words
take: 1
the season is coming to an end.
somewhere between italy and singapore lando decides he wants another kid.
it’s a warm day in the middle of september when he proposes the idea to you. you’re watching your daughter toddle around the garden, soaking up the last remnants of sunlight before the darkness of autumn encapsulates the warm beams until march.
she giggles, pushing her toys around in the grass. you let her play, lost in her own little world of wonder. lando turns to you, scanning your side profile, watching you watch the little girl. he’s awestruck, enamoured totally by the family he’s created, by the woman he loves. he doesn’t think, he just opens his mouth and let’s loose his big idea.
“want another one?” he cooes, sliding closer across the bench, until he’s nosing at your cheek. kisses are pressed to your puffy face. it’s still early.
at first you think he’s offering you another coffee, so you hold out your almost empty mug to him. you’d been nursing the drink, letting it go cold in the naturally cooler air. he laughs at you, and that’s when you clock what he’s actually asking.
you turn to him, facing each other now. lando looks excited. you wonder if you can find a way to mirror his expression.
“lando…” you start. his face drops at your tone, letting him down easy. “it’s not that i don’t want to, it’s just-“
“i’ll be home more. i’ve worked it all out. if we get to work now, baby will be here around the summer break.”
you mull over his words.
your first baby was a shock to you both, and you didn’t fancy doing that again. you loved lando with every fibre of your being, just as you did your daughter, but being away from him so much in the lead up to her arrival shot every one of your nerves to pieces.
but another baby would be on the agenda eventually - you both desperately wanted to add to your beautiful family - and you supposed that if he’d done the math…
“by get to work now, you mean…?” you cock an eyebrow at him. he lights up like the christmas tree you’d be putting up in a few months.
“she’s going down for her nap soon.” lando smirks, voice edged with that excitement once again.
-
his head is between your legs mere moments after he shuts your bedroom door.
you’d been waiting for him, stripped bare in anticipation. your baby girl would be down for a good few hours, more than enough time for him to draw out everything you had to offer and fill you back up.
his tongue runs over your flesh; he’s messy with it. you’re choking out whimpers as he licks and laps and tugs with his teeth. your pussy clenches around nothing and he notices, sliding his fingers all over where you ache. they’re quickly wet enough to slide inside of you, and he grinds them deep, luring traces of an orgasm into the pit of your belly. it’s familiar, the way he winds you up, and you want him like this every minute of the day.
“getting you ready, honey. gonna get you so fucking ready.” lando is slurring words into your cunt, letting them get lost to your sodden folds. you hear every word perfectly. they make you shake and shake until you’re undone.
when he looks up at you, his mouth is glistening. his fingers are, too. he hates wasting a drop of you, so he laps up the mess you’ve made while he shuffles up the bed. when he’s finally hovering over you, he’s desperate, but you’re worse. you could cry from the urge.
something carnal is taking place; he’s staring into your soul, finishing up the remnants of your taste, and you’re begging with your eyes, hands slinking all over your own body. you must be dripping by now. your body is restless and you raise your hips, inviting him close, deep.
when he thrusts into you, he’s pinning you down into your shared mattress. you’re completely at his mercy and he fucking loves it. you love it more. you go slack underneath him, and he starts a slow grind. he’s not thrusting, not yet, he’s just rolling into you, deeper, deeper, deeper. you feel the first tears threatening to fall. he feels so good, it’s unbearable.
he nudges at your most sensitive spot, over and over and over. you whine carnally and he swallows it, licking into your mouth. his curls tickle your forehead, you’re pressed so close together. he sees the pools in your eyes and then he looses it completely.
hand on your neck for leverage, he starts thrusting, harder and harder, faster than you can ever recall. he knows you can take it, knows how bad you want it, and that thought alone spurs him on. you have the same goals, the same shared instincts. you feel nothing but pure fucking bliss everywhere.
“you want me to fill you up? you want my baby, honey? want me buried nice and deep?” you hear him grunt, but he sounds so far away.
you are lost to the void when you come. you can’t even try and resist, not when you can hear how wet you are, not when you can hear the quiet whimpers he tries to fight at the way your pussy convulses around him. you cannot see anything but the stars in his eyes.
you go limp and he spills, fucking it even further into you. his eyes are trained on where you’re still joined, and where he’s still fucking you. you’d be screaming if not for the hand wrapped around your throat. the most delicious piece of jewellery you own.
lando needs to know he’s gone as deep as he can, that you’ve come as hard as he can make you. he feels unhinged when his fingers find your clit, switching between short spasms of his finger on the nub, and grinding down on it with his palm. you’re both overstimulated, soaked with sweat and other things. you’re gripping his cock so fucking tight that he can’t stop the rush of moans, your name mumbled like a prayer between expletives.
but still, he needs to know it’s deep enough.
an hour later, you can finally move, and you sink deep into the bath.
your head is on his chest, he washes you gently. you wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl.
-
date night
almost a month passes. no sign of baby number two.
it’s fine, you tell yourself. you tell lando, too. all the more reason to keep practicing.
every opportunity he gets to bury himself to the hilt inside of you is a win in both of your books. he grabs every single one of those opportunities with both hands.
you’re dressed up nice for dinner, little black dress hugging you well. you watch the scenery flick past you. lando’s in the drivers seat, making small talk, his left hand heavy on your bare thigh. you’ve just dropped your daughter off with her grandparents, your mother hugging lando tight. he’d been gone a while.
fingers skim higher up your thigh. you want to let him carry on but this car is new, untainted by his adventurous personality and your willingness to comply. your legs snap shut and you watch him smirk out the corner of your eye.
“later.” you whisper.
his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
“i know. don’t you worry, honey.” he doesn’t sound convincing, no, he sounds like a man with a plan and you dread to think of what he has in store.
the restaurant is tiny. a hole in the wall. it’s intimate, exclusive, slightly extortionate, but lando likes to treat you. you order, and he behaves. you sip wine, and he behaves. you drag your heel up his leg, and still, he behaves. you know something is brewing behind those stormy eyes.
he launches his attack during dessert.
vanilla ice cream hits your tongue when he strikes, leaning back in his chair. his thick neck captures your attention, the dim light accentuating him just right.
“would your prefer we take this to the car or the bathroom? it’s pretty spacious back there, you know.”
lando speaks so casually, and slightly too loudly. your cheeks are aflame.
“lando!” you hiss in warning. you’re sputtering over his boldness, catching some ice cream with your tongue. he watches the way it moves over your lips intently.
“actually, as tempting as the bathroom is, we still need to break in the new car.” lando sounds like he’s talking about the weather, or a shopping list, not the location of your next sexcapade. you swear you see the old lady at the next table over wink at you. “your choice, honey.”
you’re staring daggers at him. he leans in closer, elbows resting on the table and a shit eating grin contorting his pretty face.
“i’ve been gone too long, i need to remember what that pussy feels like.” his voice has dropped an octave but it’s still too loud. you inadvertently grind against the chair. the candle on the table flickers from the force of the shaky breath your expel.
“if you shut up now, you can have me anywhere you want me.” you mumble, bringing your napkin to your lips. the ice cream is melting and you have more important things on your mind.
“i’ll have you anyway, honey. because no matter what happens, we’re gonna go back to the car and you’re gonna crawl into my lap, aren’t you? you’re not gonna be able to help it.” he keeps going and you want the ground to swallow you up. maybe you want to crawl over the table and jump on his lap right here. you fight every natural instinct.
“lando.” you try to scold him again but it comes out breathier, a feeble attempt at shutting him up. it’s hard to be convincing when you want nothing more than for him to bend you over in the middle of this restaurant.
“and after i’ve had you shaking on my lap, i’m gonna fill you up, yeah? you’ve been waiting for weeks, poor thing.”
you usher over the waiter, and ask for the bill.
-
he’s got you home in one piece and all the way up to the shower.
you’re still delirious from the car. he’s still dripping out of you.
he pushes you against the shower screen, your cheek resting on the fogged up plastic. the combination of yours and his first orgasm is enough to slick him up and he slides right back inside of you, as if he’d never left.
your head is spinning, car lights and nail prints in leather seats flashing through your mind.
he’d been right in the restaurant. you’d crawled straight into his lap and he’d been waiting, seat pushed back, cock slapping up against his tanned belly. he’d swiped his fingers through your folds, determining that you were wet enough already, and then you’d sunk straight down on him.
at first he’d just watched you lose control, bouncing and grinding and whining on his lap. you were growing tired when he stepped in, pushing you back against the steering wheel, the angle change making your eyes roll back. you came twice with his fingers on your clit and his other hand holding you down so he could grind up into you. he’d released deep into you, all you could do was shudder, collapsing into his chest.
now, he’s taking you again, the hot water cascading over you both. you’re almost limp, caught between the cold screen and his hot, restless body. this it was three weeks apart does to him, and the urge to claim every part of you is at the forefront of his mind.
you’re writhing. there’s no room to move; he’s pressed so tight against you, breathy moans sounding straight into your ear and you want him impossibly closer. you always missed him so much it hurt, but that pain had increased tenfold lately.
you try to roll your hips back into him, needing him deeper, somehow. you’re so wet and tight around him, and your attempt at moving on him has you clamping down on him.
lando whimpers when he lets go, marking you as his.
he washes your hair and you fall asleep together naked.
-
the fear
lando is due back from qatar.
any minute now, he’ll be walking through the door.
he’s taken a podium, so you are expecting somewhat high spirits, despite the slight issue that had been the sprint race.
a podium is a podium, you’d tried to tell him on the phone late on saturday night. you knew that a podium was never just a podium.
you’re cleaning the kitchen up, your sweet daughter tucked up tight in her bed upstairs. a random playlist is sounding from the speakers and you flit around in just his hoodie. it hits mid thigh and it’s keeping you shielded from the biting october air.
you hear keys in the lock somewhere in the distance. you grin stupidly. god, you always fucking miss him. you turn to face the doorway, eagerly anticipating his face, longing for one of his speciality hugs.
instead, a storm enters your kitchen in the form of your boyfriend.
you raise and eyebrow.
“lando?” you question.
your hips are in his hands before he can answer. he’s walking you backwards until the granite of the counter is digging into your lower back.
“turn around.” his voice is gravelly, commanding. you do as you’re told.
the hoodie is bunched around your waist, your panties are tugged to the side. you can hear the rustle of fabric, assuming he’s getting himself ready. two fingers gloss through your folds while he pushes you down, bending you over for him. he’s rubbing circles into your clit and you’re keening into his touch.
“you gonna tell me what’s wrong?” you manage to choke out. he grunts in response.
“just need to get inside you.” is all he replies. well, okay then.
lando rearranges you, hiking one of your knees up so that’s it’s resting on the countertop. your other foot barely touches the floor when he fucks into you, ruthless. you cry out, reaching blindly behind you for him. you graze his hip and he shivers, pushing into you even harder.
he’s frantic, messy with it, thumbing at your clit. there’s hardly any room to move his hand, so he’s grinding the pad of his thumb as best he can. the pressure builds in your belly embarrassingly fast. you love when he gets like this, but you will pry what’s wrong out of him later when he curls up into his chest.
“gonna give you another one. s’all i can think about. fucking you full.” he mutters. your back arches into him.
“please.” you whimper, slurred. it’s all you can think about too.
your plea ushers along his orgasm, and he drops his head against your back. you’re shaking when you finish; he stays buried deep for a moment, silence washing over you.
when he helps you stand up, he kisses you deep. he brushes the hair from your face, says hello properly.
“wanna go see her.” he mumbles.
-
when you finally manage to climb the stairs, you see straight into your daughters room.
lando is stood over her crib, watching her sleep in the lamp lit room. he’s cooing something to her that you can’t make out. your knees are weak at the sight. you want to fill this house with children that look like him and laugh the way he does.
he catches you watching, sending you a wink, a promise that he’ll meet you in bed. when he finally does, drawing back the sheets and dropping into bed beside you, he wraps himself around you instantly.
“talk to me.” you command, toying with his hair in a way that you know turns him into mush in your hands.
“can’t win a race, can’t give you another baby. just- fuck.” he sighs, voice so small. you tear up but you push that aside for now.
“stop, lando. don’t do this to yourself.” you try to sound firm, attentive.
“just- am i good to you? am i good to her?” he needs to hear you say it, that’s the only thing that will talk him down from this spiral. he’s exhausted, and this is often a consequence.
“sometimes i think you hung the stars in the sky.” you hum, kissing his forehead.
gentle snores lull you to sleep.
-
quickie
you go with him to austin.
it seemed logical, after the events of qatar. your daughter has been stolen away by lando’s dad, who is showing her the paddock and introducing her to mechanics. you watch on, momentarily, because then lando is stealing you away.
“haven’t you got fp3 in a minute?” you ask, coy smile on your face. he’s pulling your jeans down and kicking them away.
“this won’t take long.” he smirks.
you crave the upper hand for a change. his race suit is already undone, so you make your move. you tug down his fireproofs, taking his cock in your hands. he’s hard already, glistening for you. he groans, but doesn’t make you stop.
you’re watching him through your eyelashes, his head tipping back in pleasure. you work your hand around him, up and down, applying pressure at the base and around the tip. it’s flushed red, wet in your hand and he looks too pretty to stop. he can have you later, in your hotel room, you think. right now, you’re having him.
lando is panting, thrusting into your hand when he comes for you. you’re soaked through, and he can probably see the damp patch on the panties. his release hits your stomach, painting your flushed skin white. your eyes scan the room for something to clean yourself with, but he beats you to it.
thick fingers swipe through the mess he’s made. your panties are tugged to the side and then he’s fucking you with said fingers. you cannot produce a thought, mouth gaping open in the shape of an ‘o’. the sight before you has you gushing, and he uses that leverage to speed up.
“you think i’m gonna let it go go waste, honey? silly girl. pretty, pretty girl.” he mutters.
your hips are bucking into his hand when he pulls out of you, collecting more of him from your belly, and then he’s thrusting them in again. you tear up from the pleasure coursing through you, white hot. he’s crazy, you think, but he’s so fucking beautiful, teasing glint in his eye as he curls his fingers deeper.
“want it so bad, don’t you? gotta keep you full for me, don’t i?”
you’re sure you can be heard from the garage when your orgasm hits.
-
office party
a burnt orange dress clings to your hips and a curly haired man clings to your hand.
the mtc is lit up for another gala that you and lando have to attend. the season is over and they’ve had a great run, so a toast must be made to celebrate that.
you watch him get passed around the room between sponsors and other important people, proud of what he’s achieved. you hate sharing him, but it’s a necessary evil, so you drink champagne with oscar’s girlfriend, lily, and natalie pinkham.
when lando comes back to you, his PR smile is dropped and that genuine, boyish grin returns that you have so missed in his momentary absence. he introduces you to some people, proudly showing you off, sinking drinks as he does.
it’s nearing 10pm when his actions become questionable. his hand stays on your ass, his words whispered in your ear are filthy and his sly kisses on your neck stop being quite so sly.
you remove him from the main event, just for a moment, just to try and get him to compose himself before you jump him against one of the vintage racing cars. he sees this as an invitation, however, and then everything goes awry.
he’s dragging you into the lift, kissing you against the closed doors. when you stumble out a floor up, you can still hear the function in full swing. he’s pulling you down a hallway and into what you assume is an office. when he has you sat on a desk, you realise where you are.
“is this zak’s office?” your eyes pop out of your head, bewildered.
“maybe.” he shrugs. he’s smirking like a bastard.
“you’re insane.” you shake your head, standing from the desk, but his lips ghost your ear and you’re putty in his hands.
“you’re driving me insane. coming here in this tight fucking dress. can’t stop looking at you, thinking about this.” his hand rubs over your lower belly as he speaks, and then you’re back on the desk.
lando’s on his knees, peeling the silky material over your thighs until your barely there panties are in his face. he mouths over them briefly, and then they’re gone and his tongue is buried to the hilt in your cunt.
it doesn’t take him long to get you off, the alcohol and the thrill of being in the one place you should never have sex pushing you quickly towards your orgasm.
the glass wall of windows is too inviting for lando to pass up, so on shaky legs, you’re pressed up against them, looking out over the pond and the fairy lights when he pushes into you.
he’s kissing over your shoulder, your neck, holding your down on him while he thrusts up into you. you turn your head to kiss him, to let him swallow up your noises that could give you away.
“you’re so fucking good for me, honey. letting me have you here like this just so i can give you a baby.” he slurs against your lips, pussy drunk and ravenous.
he finds your clit, fast fingers making small swipes against it and you want to cry.
“gonna make this time count, yeah, honey? gonna keep it all inside of you until we get home?”
you try to nod, try to say something but you’re choking on air and dripping all over him. a couple more thrusts and you’re the perfect vessel for him to release into, throbbing and hot around his cock.
“beg for it, honey, come on. tell me how much you want it.” lando mumbles right in your ear.
“lando, please. please, please, please.” you whimper. “come for me, baby, need it inside of me.”
you leave the office a lot more composed than when you entered it. well, aside from the remnants of him that are running down your inner thighs.
-
a month later, lando’s laughing. he’s actually laughing, while you cringe, burying your blushing face in his chest.
you’re holding a pregnancy test in your hands, finally a positive one.
when you do the maths, you realise where baby norris was conceived, and you try and make him promise never to tell anyone that it was in his boss’s office.
“it’s a funny story.” he tells you. there are tears in his eyes.
“you’re so lucky i love you.” you roll your eyes. you are also dangerously close to crying.
but truthfully, you’re the lucky one. he carries you to bed that night, claiming that now you had a baby on board, you had to be careful!
you dream of him, that night. the man that hung the stars in the sky.
-
once again, idk what came over me i’m sorry lmfao
-
taglist
@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239
removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3
#lando norris#lando norris fic#lando norris smut#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#dad!lando norris#f1 fic#f1 smut#formula 1 fic#formula 1 smut#f1 fics#writing things#lando norris imagine#lando norris blurb#f1 driver x you#f1 driver x reader#dad!f1 driver#lando norris angst#f1 angst#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 angst
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ღ this barbie is a race car driver
"did you hear who honda signed?"
"yeah, the daughter of the guy who owns the team."
"what's that about? can she even race?"
"that's what she claims, according to honda's team principal."
"i reckon they just said that cause she's the boss's daughter."
a pair of heels clicking against the polished ground makes the men huddled in a circle collectively turn their heads. the overwhelming clad of pink makes some of them raise their eyebrows: a baby pink dress peeking through her dark pink jacket.
"fans aren't allowed back here," max says hesitantly with a small smile.
"we can take a picture, if you'd like," lando grins, stepping forward. "have you got a phone on you?"
the woman tilts her head. her eyes are big as she stares at the crowd of men in front of her with her shiny lips puckered unknowingly. she furrows her eyebrows slightly, making alex suck in a deep breath.
great, another fan who will villainise them for pushing them out of a restricted area, is all alex could think.
they watch as she takes a deep breath. she perks up with a wide smile, throwing her head back dramatically. she waves her hand in the air with a laugh. "no, silly! i drive for honda," she says with a grin. "you must be lando! and, max, right?"
lando's eyebrows shoot up in shock. a small smile stretches his lips. "oh, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to–"
"it's no problem!" she giggles, scrunching her nose at lando. "we never met so that's okay!"
she introduces herself and extends her arm out to them with a grin. "congrats on all the titles!" she says to max with a smile. she turns to george with a grin. "i love the hilfiger sweater. i can't seem to find one in my size when i went shopping yesterday."
"uh," george trails off, glancing at alex briefly before looking at her again. "i can try and get you one. no promises, though."
"right," max grins. he points further into the hallway. "the driver's briefing is the last door on the right."
"of course!" she claps excitedly. "it was nice meeting you! i'll see you guys later!"
she waves at them excitedly, earning herself a chorus of dull and monotonous goodbyes and unenthusiastic waves.
alex points at her figure walking down the hall. "very barbie."
"ah, that's who she reminded me of!"
taglist: @angsthology @cashtons-wife @darleneslane (comment to be added)
#max verstappen x reader#lando norris x reader#george russell x reader#alex albon x reader#disneyprincemuke sd#fem!driver#f1 fem!driver#female driver#formula 1 fanfic#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1
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THE MIGHTY HAS FALLEN (BUT YOU'LL RISE AGAIN, LOVE) ( max verstappen. )
max verstappen x reader
after a tough race cut short, max pushes away any person around him, but not her. never her. she always picks up the pieces to put him back together.
authors note: I love max. I know he's not the self-deprecating typa guy, but in this, he is, OKAY. charles is after this <333
HE WAS A BOMB. the fuse getting shorter and shorter every minute that his patience was tested. everything around him seemed to irritate him more and more as he tried to keep himself from exploding, for pr's sake.
he just wanted to avoid the media all together, for obvious reasons, but he was contractually obligated to give his words to the journalists under the media tent. putting him under a microscope and asking questions that had an undertone of scrutiny in hopes of catching him break. he was close, but he wouldn’t.
it hadn’t even been a fault of his own, he rarely made those anymore. the car had caught fire, but not due to a mistake he had made, and even if it had been, he wouldn't have admitted it anyways. still he felt the guilt of his lack of performance, beating himself up after every question asked about his car and what had happened.
it was just stupid. the questions were stupid. the car was stupid. this whole race was stupid.
the pressure to perform, even in the best car on the grid, was high. despite his seat being secured for plenty of years to come, he still had expectations to meet and records to break.
it was obvious to everyone that max was hard on himself every time he didn't perform his best, his girlfriend especially noticing when she’d find him in his very luxurious driver's room sulking at even the slightest of a mistake made by him.
it didn't happen often, but when it did, she'd been there for him. he knew that.
he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and never be seen again because world champions don't make stupid mistakes.
even if this hadn't been a mistake he made, he should've known. even if there was no possible way he could’ve, he should've.
he was raised to believe that he was only deserving if he had been first, that he was destined to fail after every second place or worse finish.
so it wasn't surprising when he thought he didn't deserve her. in comparison, or more like his eyes, she was simply perfect.
and she understood him, which not many people could because he wouldn't let anyone pick apart his brain like she did.
he locked his thoughts and feelings in the dark that shrouded his mind from early childhood trauma. he promised he would never let anyone see.
but he was never great at keeping such promises because it hadn't taken much for her to pick the lock to his brain. even though he wasn't ready to spill every detail of his upbringing to her, he trusted her.
and he didn't get to do that all too often.
the media had been brutal—he knew they would be—and yet it still crushed his mentality and faith in himself.
with his race suit around his waist despite having time to change beforehand, he walked through the paddock in shame at the early retirement.
it wasn't like this determined the outcome of his career because the next race, he'd be back on top. he didn't feel so sure of it though because all his thoughts were on this failure. what if he failed the next race?
what if he failed the whole season? what if he fails her?
unlikely, the people know, but he had so much confidence which had so easily crumbled when it got a little too hot. he wasn't sure of himself anymore.
anyone could see the turmoil bubbling underneath his skin, harsh waves crashing in the ocean of his blue eyes as he pushed past anyone and everyone.
the walk through the paddock was short, considering the red bull motorhome was the first of ten. max hastily entered through the automatic doors, skipping steps as he was eager to hide out in his driver's room.
he felt the eyes of the staff follow him down the hall until he disappeared quickly around the corner. he didn't want to be seen by anyone.
the door to his driver's room closed as fast as it was opened, but much louder. she heard the slam of the door echo down the hallway.
she didn't flinch, she just calmly greeted staff with smiles and left a bag of sweets on the table for them. she always brought something for the team, to celebrate every victory and despite this not being one, they still deserved it for working hard.
since she had gotten there not too long after him, she lingered around the lobby. she didn't want to be waiting around for him to show up and have him brush her off because he wasn't in the right headspace.
he would never mean to dismiss her, and she knew to give him at least a little time to himself to think and process things. she couldn't give him too much time though because she didn't want his self-deprecating thoughts to eat away at his confidence.
from what she analyzed from the staff and their demeanor, he'd probably caught them off guard when he slammed his door.
she wouldn't apologize for his behavior because she would make him do it when he cooled down.
so she hung around and made small talk with the sparse staff around to allow max a few minutes to himself before excusing herself down the hall.
she had a bomb to defuse after all.
the clack of her heels on the hard floors bounced off the walls, but she walked quietly enough so max didn't hear her coming. he knew she would though. he knew she would find him with his head in his hands, barely covered in sweat because he didn't race for more than three laps.
his face was still flush with disappointment though. he didn't want her to see him like this even though she was with him during his last disappointing race, but even though his singaporean grand prix finish wasn't great, at least he hadn't been out of the race.
max hadn't DNF’d in two years because he was simply just that good, and he still is. he just didn't feel like it.
his hands pressed so hard against his eyes, the blood vessels in them would have popped if he pushed any harder. he had taken off his red bull hat, he felt he didn't deserve the number one right now. it was thrown lazily onto the makeshift bed in his driver's room.
the room was practically silent, every so often interrupted by a deep sigh of disappointment that escaped his lips. he had sat there for a good couple or minutes, sulking.
when she reached his door, she held the bouquet of flowers she always got for him close to her body with one arm while she raised the other to knock. her hand only slightly hesitated before her fist made contact with the door and a few seconds later, she tried entering. it was locked, which was usual whenever he was brooding.
at first, when max heard the knock, he thought of all the people last on his list that he would want to see right now, but on the bottom of the list was the person he wanted to avoid the most right now.
his dad.
their relationship was rocky. he never supported max at any place unless it was on the very top of the podium, and even then max thought he looked unpleasant.
“go away,” was all max could mutter through his hands as his heart started to pick up the pace.
she sighed, shaking her head with a smile pulling at her lips, “max.” it was all she needed to say.
part of him didn't want to let her in, he didn't want her to see him like this, but he knew she was just as stubborn as him, if not more. he knew she would stand there all day if he didn't open the door to let her in.
and he would always let her in.
she heard the low creak of the sofa she could imagine him sitting on, but not his footsteps while he made his way to the door. she only knew he heard her when the lock clicked and the door slowly opened inwards to reveal the red-faced max verstappen.
she stood staring at him, her head tilted as she studied his face. he didn't move, he just watched her eyes dart around his appearance, and he felt himself getting hot under his fireproofs.
“are you going to let me in, verstappen?” she teased, a sly smile on her lips as she watched her boyfriend roll his eyes.
he scoffed, stepping aside, “don't call me that.”
“what?” she acted innocent, stepping into his driver's room with the fresh flowers, seeing the already prepped vase, “don't call you by your name?”
“you know what I mean.” though he tried to keep a straight face and act like he was still mad, he couldn't keep a smile from creeping onto his lips. she just had that effect.
she heard the door close and lock again as she took the wrapping off and placed the flowers in the vase. she shrugged at his words, her back still towards him, but she knew he had sat back down.
“you didn't have to get those,” he mumbled, “didn't win.”
she sighed, crumbling the wrapping in her hand and throwing it away before walking to where he sat. she stood in front of him as he looked up at her.
even with heels, he was still much taller than her and even though he was sitting, he reached barely below her chin.
she spread her arms to offer a hug to him, which he gratefully took, his arms snaking around the low of her hips. pressed against her chest, her arms wrapped around his head, running her fingers through his hair.
she felt him sigh against her skin, his eyes closing as they stayed like that for minutes without speaking. she felt him caress the bare skin of her thigh with his thumb.
when they finally pulled apart, his hands still laid firmly on her hips, his hair disheveled from the hug. she ran her hands through it to fix it and he only watched as she did so.
when she finally finished after only ten seconds because guy hair is a lot less complicated than women’s hair, he finally spoke up, “why are you dressed so uncomfortably?”
she was slightly taken aback, seeing as he was just moping about his race not even ten minutes ago and now commenting on her appearance. he only assumed she was uncomfortable, but unfortunately his assumption was correct.
“what do you mean?” she looked down at her attire, which isn't so different from the other wags that she hung out with.
his hand snuck around the back of her thigh and pulled up her leg, “I thought I told you to stop wearing heels, you always complain about them.”
“i’m fine,” she said, about to cross her arms, but her balance said otherwise so she settled them on his shoulders for support.
he gave her an incredulous look because every time she wore heels, without fail, she would complain less than an hour into wherever they were that she wanted to sit.
“okay, i admit i can't wait to get these things off,” she let out a deep breath, putting a hand on her hip, “but I'm supposed to be taking care of you.”
she said in his response to take the heels off her feet for her, a simple gesture really, but this was about him.
“do you want to talk about it?” she massaged his shoulders as he threw her heels to the other side of the small sofa.
“nothing to talk about,” he shrugged, “maybe I don't deserve being first.”
she pushed his head to look up at her, shaking her head, “you just don't realize how much you deserve, max. you're a world champion, a three-time one,” she reassured him, “you've won countless races, and you still have the entire season ahead of you. I know you want to, but you can't let one bad race define your season.”
“I know, you're right.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought deeply, “but I have to prove myself.”
“you've already done that plenty of times,” she shook his shoulders in emphasis, “besides you'll still lead the championship, unless charles gets p1, but you'll get it right back if that's the case.”
she was right. she always was, he never doubted her. he would never doubt her because she would never lie to him. she always backed up her answers by building up his ego and confidence back up so he was ready to fight it out on the track next race.
whether it took a couple of minutes or hours to bring his mood back up, she'd take her time in making him feel like the champion he was again.
she would take his phone from him, he didn't need to see the articles being written or the missing phone calls from his dad.
all he needed was her and she would always be there.
—
taglist (found here): @slut4lrh @taylorslovesswifties13 @sbella13 @kaa212 @nhlfs
proofread by @foreveralbon <333
#formula 1#formula 1 drivers#formula one#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#mv1#mv33#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#mv1 x y/n#mv1 angst#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fluff
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