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fastandcarlos · 2 days

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Almost Lost You : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: things have been frosty between the two of you for some time, but when everything turns upside down, is charles really willing to lose you as a result of it all?

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“Where are you going?” You shouted across at Charles, finding yourself looking in disbelief as he began to pick up the red bag that was on the arm of the sofa, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Are you seriously leaving right now?”

As you spoke again, Charles’ head snapped around to look at you, his shoulders dropping as he let go of a sigh. “I think it’s for the best if we just have a bit of space, I’ll see you down at the track.”

Truthfully neither of you could even remember what it was that you were fighting about anymore, you’d barely seen each other for weeks and the tension was building. What you had hoped would be a happy reunion had become a weekend of nightmares for you both. You were training in two separate countries, counting down the days until you could see each other again, and now it felt like Charles couldn’t get away from you quick enough.

“Have a good race,” he told you as he picked up his keys from the worktop.

The lack of emotion in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, “that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all weekend,” you soon found yourself muttering under your breath.

“What was that?” Charles questioned as he passed you by.

Your head shook as you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Nothing.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Your hand quickly grabbed at the wheel once again as you felt yourself going slightly wide into the turn, rushing to steady the car. Down the radio you could hear the frustrations of your team as yet again you found yourself on the verge of sending the car into the barriers.

“Y/N, get your head in the game,” you heard Tom, your race engineer tell you.

You didn’t give him a reply as you concentrated on what was ahead, knowing that you’d need another flying lap to be in with a chance of qualifying for Q3. You took things a little slower as you approached the start line, giving yourself a couple of laps to find yourself again.

“The tyres are pretty worn now, this is going to take a mammoth effort from you to qualify with how you’ve been driving so far this weekend,” Tom warned you as you left him know that you were ready to go.

“I can do it,” you assured him.

If you listened closely enough, you were sure you could hear a faint chuckle in the background of your radio. “Good luck.”

You found yourself with your foot down hard as you went over the start line, teeth gritted and hands firmly on the wheel, determined to silence anyone who doubted you back in the garage. Your lap started well, the corners that had proven tricky throughout the weekend were finally working with you instead of against you, with no other cars in the way to stop you reaching your target.

Back in the garage the excitement was starting to build, your team had begun to worry that something wasn’t quite right throughout your weekend, but now the pieces started to seem like they were fitting together. You didn’t dare tell anyone about your troubles with Charles, half of your team weren’t exactly approving of your decision to date a driver that drove for one of your closest rivals. Did you let that affect you? Of course not. You loved Charles. And he loved you. You thought.

“Damn.”

Silence descended amongst the garage in a split second, all hope was lost as several pairs of hands smacked onto people’s faces.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Tom yelled down the radio, “Y/N are you alright?”

The cameras tried their hardest to show something, but you found yourself in a car that was surrounded by smoke. In the blink of an eye you found yourself staring at the blue of the barrier at the side of the track, heart racing as pain scorched through your body.

Everything had been going so well until you found yourself going over a loose bit of debris over the track, cursing the stewards who must have missed it, your back wheel jammed over it leaving you with no control. The last thing you remembered was skidding over the gravel, scrunching your eyes shut as you found yourself going round and round before bracing for the impact of the almighty bang.

“Y/N, you good?” Tom repeated, still awaiting a response from you.

“I-I think so,” you stuttered, finding yourself unable to move, greeted by pain that you had never experienced before.

“Medical is on the way.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Back in the garage of Ferrari, a chorus of groans had captured Charles’ attention as he sat in his car letting his team know exactly what he needed from them in order to support him into Q3.

“What happened?” He asked around, unable to quite see through his visor towards the small television screen that was up in the corner of the garage.

Around him everyone met each others glances, no one wanted to be the one to break the news to Charles. They knew how much he adored you, how protective he was of you, and this would have tipped him over the edge. Luckily for them all though, Fred took a step towards the car and knelt down next to Charles. His presence was enough for Charles to know that something serious had clearly happened, removing his helmet out of respect for his boss.

“There’s been a pretty bad crash,” Fred began to tell him, watching as Charles nodded in reply, managing to figure that out all for himself. “The person involved has told their team they’re alright.”

“Who was involved?” Charles pushed as he watched the smoke on the screen start to disappear, the colours of the bar starting to emerge through the gaps.

“I’m sorry,” Fred whispered.

Charles didn’t need Fred to say anymore as the orange colours of your car became clear, your race number printed against the side of your car clear as day.

“Y/N.”

As Charles looked around the room, no one quite knew the right thing to say. He needed a moment to process, his eyes glued to the screen willing for you to get out of the car. There was no sign of movement from your car, filling Charles with dread. Perhaps things hadn’t been the best between you recently, but that never stopped him loving, caring, about you. The longer that time seemed to pass the more that Charles began to worry. Were you really okay? Was someone out there just trying to protect him?

“We’ll keep you updated throughout Q3 if we hear anything,” a voice suddenly told him, snapping Charles out of his daydream.

“You think I’m going out there?” He gasped in disbelief, shaking his head at the engineer beside hi.

“Charles, the car is super fast, pole is yours for the taking. You can’t let us down now, work has to come first,” he pleaded with him.

The engineer’s words struck a cord with Charles, the penny dropped as he realised what was going on around him. All this time work had been his priority, he had barely given you the time of day for so long all that he cared about was getting that car over the line first, no matter who he hurt along the way.

“I can’t do it.”

“You have to do it.”

“No. No I don’t,” Charles adamantly told them all, the sharp raise of his voice taking many by surprise. “Driving this car isn’t most important right now, making sure that Y/N is alright is.”

With that, Charles took the wheel off of his car, beginning to climb out of it. He could feel the disappointment of his team around him engulfing him, but he didn’t care. He could apologise for disappointing them one day, but right now he was holding onto the chance that he would be able to fix things with you.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

“Are you alright?” The paramedic asked you, leaning over to make sure that you were strapped onto the bed securely.

The corners of your smile turned up slightly, “I’m as comfy as I can be having just gone over 200mph into a barrier.”

“I see you’ve still got your sense of humour,” he chuckled in response.

Your hands gripped either side of the bed as you felt the two paramedics begin to push you towards the ambulance that was waiting to take you away. Getting you out of the car was a much tougher job than anyone had imagined, the damage on your car was extensive, but nothing was more hurt than your pride. Every driver had crashed, most multiple times, but that never stopped you feeling as if you weren’t good enough.

Your body jolted as you were wheeled over the gravel, hearing several apologies come from the two men either side of you. You insisted that it was alright, biting down on your bottom lip to mask the throbbing that was taking it out of you all over your body.

“Wait!” A voice screeched across as you began to be raised up into the ambulance. “Don’t shut that door yet!”

You were far too sore to lift your head up to see who was making the noise, but you knew. You could almost feel your heart skip a beat as a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N?”

“Sir, are you alright?” One of the paramedics questioned, watching in confusion as a figure ran across the track in order to try and get to them before they shut the door.

“She’s my girlfriend, I just want to make sure that she’s alright.” Charles told them.

The paramedic looked down at you, nodding as you nodded back at him too, silently assuring him that it was alright, that Charles was with you.

As soon as he got silent permission from the paramedic, Charles took a hold of your hand, getting to look at you for the first time. You were pretty cut up and bruised, the sharp intake of breath that came from him as he studied you was enough to confirm that for you.

“Are you alright,” he whispered, brushing his fingertips gently over the back of your hand, treating you like the most fragile thing in the world.

Your head shook in reply to him, “everything hurts.”

“Oh baby.”

You had tried your hardest to hold back any sort of emotion since the moment you lost control, but as soon as you found Charles by your side, you couldn’t keep it together any longer. Before you knew it Charles’ spare hand was underneath your eyes to wipe away the tears that were falling. All that you had bubbled up from the race, the arguments, the fear of where things were going had finally reached the surface. And it killed Charles too.

“You’re in safe hands,” he whispered down to you, brushing your hair out of your face when he found a second to move away from your eyes. “You’re gonna be alright.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your words cut through Charles like a knife, reality there to smack him in the face. What did you have to be sorry for? You were both responsible but Charles knew he had been so much worse.

“What have you got to be sorry for?”

“Everything,” you murmured, your voice shaky and unsteady, “but most of all being stupid enough to crash.”

The two of you were so lost in yourselves you had failed to realise that the ambulance was now shut and you were on your way to the hospital to get yourself checked out. On the other side of the vehicle Charles knew there would be many men dressed in red unhappy with him, but if he was honest, he just didn’t care.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Charles assured you, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of your head, “you couldn’t help what happened out there.”

“It’s not just what happened out there Charles.”

“We’ve not been in a good place, right?”

Your head nodded in agreement, pain still etched upon your face as you found yourself wriggling ever so slightly in an attempt to make yourself comfortable. Charles moved straight away, offering himself to try and help you settle again.

“Let’s not worry about that for now, let’s just see what’s going on with you.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

After several hours in the hospital, specialists, doctors, friends all visiting you, you were finally starting your journey to mend. You had a fair few bruises, a fracture in your wrist but most of all you had a huge dent to your confidence which you knew you would get over.

Throughout it all, Charles never left your side, listening intently to everything that everyone had to say in order to know what he could do to look after you. Carlos had popped by and brought Charles something more comfortable to wear and the reassurance that the majority of the garage understood why he had chosen to do what he did.

And now you found yourselves alone.

The tension was nowhere near as bad as it was when the two of you woke in your hotel room that morning but you both knew there was plenty still to talk about. You pushed your body up on the bed so that you were sat up, feeling Charles press his hand to your back to make you lean forwards and placing a cushion behind you to rest on.

“Are you alright?” Charles asked as he pulled his chair closer towards you.

“I’ll get there,” you lightly joked, offering him a smile. “I’m alright.”

Your voice sounded convincing, but Charles knew you better than that. “I was so worried back in that garage, I really thought there was a chance that I was going to lose you.”

“I thought I was going to lose you too,” you suddenly admitted, taking Charles by surprise. “When you walked out this morning I thought maybe you’d given up.”

Charles’ head shook straight away, shuffling even further forwards and taking a hold of your hand. He went to speak but his breath was trapped in disbelief. The thought of walking out the door and not returning had never even crossed Charles’ mind no matter how angry he got. Knowing that that was what you thought he would do tore him apart, there was no chance that he was ever going to give up on you so easily.

“I love you,” he reminded you, saying those three little words that he knew meant the most to you. “I’m sorry that I’ve been such a horrible boyfriend recently.”

“You haven’t-“

“-I have,” he interrupted, “you don’t need to make me feel better y/n.”

“Maybe we’ve both been a bit neglectful,” you suggested, refusing to let Charles take all the blame for what had happened.

You’d both been so wrapped up in work and making sure that you were on top that you’d forgotten all about the people that had helped you get there. You were each others biggest fans, even if you didn’t always show it.

“You know, there’s one good thing about all of this,” Charles mumbled, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. “Now that you’re injured I’ve got the perfect excuse to look after you and be a proper boyfriend to you.”

“Charles, you’ve always been a good boyfriend to me,” you corrected.

Charles laughed back at you, the familiar sound that you had missed so much.

“I’ll be an even better boyfriend then,” he smirked, standing up from where he sat and moving to the edge of your bed.

You shuffled across so that there was enough space for Charles to sit himself as close to you as he possibly could. It was the closest the two of you had been together for quite some time, and admittedly, you absolutely loved it.

“I love you,” he smiled, gently nudging against your side, “I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” you replied, bumping him back too, “I love you too.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 reaction #f1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one imagine #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine

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jo-com · 3 days

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i need either like a separate thing or a part two to clingy where they get reunited again and everyone’s all just very cuddly !!! i LOVE clingy so so so much

₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ➛ Home

Charles Leclerc x Fem!reader x Alexandra Saint Mieux

Summary: Part 2 of Clingy

Genre: Poly and fluff

Note: again just grammatical error and i just want to thank you for sending these requests cause i get more inspired to write because of these!!

───── ─ ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅─ ───────

Time sure does slow down where you’re waiting for something to come back or in Alex and Charles’ case it’s definitely someone.

After learning of your return, they were nothing but bubbling with excitement. It’s been a month since they last saw you and it was gruesome—the days and nights spent with only the two of them only worsened the feeling of emptiness; even after doing everything they can to avoid thinking about you was no avail, nothing can truly replace your warm presence.

So when you told them the date of your flight back, Alex hurriedly added it to her calendar that was marked ‘Reunited at last’ with a big circle surrounding it.

It was quite silly but, if it means so much to her— it does to you too.

…

It was finally the day where you get to be by their sides. You were sadden to leave your home town but was delighted to meet your two lovers again— and nothing can beat the feeling of coming back to them.

…

They sat at the private section of the airport, waiting anxiously for your arrival. Alex was a nervous wreck—pacing back in forth to ease a little bit of her worries.

While on the other hand, Charles seated collectively; his eyes carefully following, Alex’s anxious pattering.

Their reaction to the situation was the complete opposite, but one thing that remains the same was the ache they both felt— longing for your presence to be back once again.

Charles sighed, ”Calm down mon amour, she’ll be here any minute now.”

She shook her head, not wanting to listen to Charles’ comforting yet not helping words.

With a heavy sigh, she threw her hands on the air and like a kid on a tantrum she sat by Charles’ side with a grunt. “I just worry that she haven’t eaten yet, you know how she hates airplane food.”

“I do know that, i am her love too. chérie, calme-toi, d'accord? (Sweetheart, calm down okay?)”

“Je sais, je sais, je vais me calmer (i know, i know, I’ll calm down)”

Charles tutted, “Come here, mon cœur”, his tone laced with concern for his lover— gesturing for her to come lean on his body for support. He knows what Alex is going through and it pains him to see her like that; he always was the stronger one between the two of them.

Alex closed her eyes and succumbed to his embrace— coming in closer to feel at ease and finding comfort.

The noises that was once deafening were now fading in the background, as the two of them find solace with one another. Not even hearing the announcement that boomed over the speakers.

“Wow, i am hurt that i am not included” a familiar voice spoke making their head look up faster than the seconds itself.

Y/n stood above them, towering their frames. Her smile radiated just like the sun does; it was infectious.

“I’ve missed you, my babies” she spoke, breaking the silence that lingered between the three of them. Their eyes still wide from her return— mouths agape from shock; they tried to say something but nothing came out.

So they did what any lovers do, they stood up and tackled y/n with a big tight hug. The grip they have on her showed how they truly missed her.

Y/n sighed contentedly; boy did she miss this,“calmez-vous mes amours, je ne vais plus repartir (come down my loves, i am not going to leave again)” she assured, patting their back and kissing their faces for assurance.

“Promise?” Alex asked, her tone dripped with worry as she hung her head down.

A soft smile tugged on y/n’s lips at alex’s gesture but nonetheless reciprocated her words.

The three of them then went home and enjoyed their moment together— the night ended with laughter and smiles as they reunited with one another. I am happy to say that y/n never left that long again.

…

Sorry if this is super short and took me a long time to make, thanks for requesting!! Really means a lot to me💋💞

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nurse-sainz · 3 days

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Through the Darkness

Warnings: mentions of self harm and depression.

This is just something I had to get out tonight, please don't read if you are triggered by any of the above topis.

Max comforts and helps clean up y/n after a tough day.

Max made his way down the hallway of the hotel, fidgeting with the key card in his hand as he headed to his room. The adrenaline was still buzzing through his veins from his race, but he was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to cuddle with you for the night. You had texted him that you’d gone back to the hotel room after the race, not feeling well and needing some space.

He hadn’t heard from you since that message, and he couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that had settled in his stomach as he reached the room. The room seemed empty when he first entered; the bed had been slept in, that much was clear, but you weren’t anywhere to be seen. As he walked further into the room, he noticed the light coming from beneath the bathroom door.

“Schat?” he called, his voice echoing in the quiet room.

With no answer, that uneasy feeling only grew. He knocked on the door and called a little louder, “Are you okay in there?”

Still, there was no reply.

His heart pounded as he tried the door handle, and his stomach fell as he found it locked. You never locked the bathroom door.

“Y/N, I need you to open the door for me. I need to know you’re okay.”

He was about ready to break down the door with his shoulder when he heard the soft click of the lock being turned. You kept your head down as you heard the door creak open and heard footsteps as Max shuffled into the room. Max’s heart dropped as he saw you sitting on the tiled floor of the bathroom, your back against the large bathtub with your knees to your chest and your head hidden. Your body shook as you quietly sobbed. If that didn’t alarm him enough, he caught sight of the red streaks of blood that had dripped down the length of your arms, droplets staining the white tiles.

“Oh Y/N…” his voice cracked as he dropped to his knees by your side. He tried to keep his trembling hands steady as they hovered over your arms to assess the extent of your injuries. “What have you done?”

You looked up, not sure what to expect from his expression; anger, frustration, or disgust, but his eyes were filled with sorrow.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, your voice barely audible from the crying.

Max swallowed hard, but he remained calm. “No, don’t apologize, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he reassured as he pulled you in close, not caring if you got blood on his shirt.

Once he was sure you were calm enough, he grabbed a towel and pressed it gently against the cuts on your arms that were still oozing. The contact of the fabric against your fresh wounds stung, but Max’s presence was distraction enough. “You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you,” he reassured with a soft kiss to your temple.

You gave a nod, the tears mixing with the streaks of blood on your arms as Max continued to hold pressure. His mind raced, trying to remember anything he could recall about first aid. He knew he needed to clean your wounds and check if they needed stitches or any further attention from the hospital. With some coaxing, Max managed to stand you up, taking the weight of your body as you fell against him, the exhaustion clearly weighing you down.

He always traveled with a first aid kit, something that had become a habit with the amount of traveling the pair of you did. You sat on the bed as he pulled up a chair in front of you and opened the kit. He pulled out a few antiseptic wipes, “This might sting a little,” he warned as he touched the wipe to your wounds. You let out a hiss and tried to pull away, but he held firm. “I know…I’m sorry,” he soothed as he continued cleaning. As soon as the wounds and dried blood were clean, he wrapped your arms in fresh bandages, keeping up a steady stream of conversation to keep you and himself distracted.

Once you were bandaged and safe, he helped you to your feet and helped you change into one of your comfortable oversized shirts. He helped you under the covers. He couldn't help but notice how utterly exhausted you looked. He took a seat on the bed beside you and took one of your hands in his, “Schat…why did you do this?” His tone wasn’t accusatory; it was full of love and care.

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze without opening the floodgate once again. “I…I didn’t know what else to do. Everything just got too much, and I just couldn’t cope.”

Max’s heart broke at your words. He cupped your face, gently forcing you to meet his eyes, “You are not alone. I’m here for you, and we can get you through this; but you need to promise me you’ll come to me and let me help.”

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, but you nodded in response, “I promise, Max.”

He leaned down, wrapping his arms around you as he placed a kiss on the side of your head, “One step at a time. I promise I’ll be here with you every step of the way. We’ll get you through.”

He settled down next to you and pulled you in close as you settled into his embrace. Things weren’t magically fixed, and you knew this probably wouldn’t be the last time Max picked you up off the bathroom floor and cleaned you up. Max and you both knew that together, you’d be able to face anything.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 imagines #formula 1 x reader #formula one fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine #formula one imagines #formula one x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x y/n

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dittaturamonegasca · 3 days

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f1 fandom, once again ✨I SUMMON YOU✨ to do the devil's work. care to share with me a fanfiction formula one related that you strongly believe is THE fanfiction and that anyone should read? amaze me, destroy me all you want, i'm looking for some new readings ??? lestappen, maxiel, dando, landoscar, charlos, brocedes mostly??? but feel free to share anything (f1) if you feel it's worth reading, wheter it's yours or someone else's work!

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iamred-iamyellow · 3 days

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Good Luck, Babe!

♥ part 1 / chapter 1

♥ pairing: oscar piastri/carlos sainz jr

♥ ballet au - enemies to lovers

♥ @liamlawsonlesbian

♥ PLEASE READ THIS AUTHORS NOTE (none of the pictures are mine)

♥ ao3 link

♥ warning: this fic has swearing and uses some ballet terminology

♥ I’m finishing the folklore series I SWEAR I just really wanted to start this as well lol

♥ masterlist

No one has ever gotten under Oscar’s skin the way that Carlos does. Since the beginning of time there’s been competitiveness in ballet, but as two of the very few men at their company, their rivalry became a little more personal.

Carlos took his spot at the barre, a few people lunging out of his way. He practiced a few relevé’s to get his feet moving until he heard a group of girls whispering.

“He talks so much shit about Carlos…” one of them said as he reached down and fixed the elastic on his ballet flats.

“I guess Oscar really does hate him.” another mumbled with a shrug.

“You can tell him it’s mutual.” Carlos pipes up, staring at them directly.

The group quiets down, turning away from the man and pretending to stretch.

“Who are we waiting on?” Toto, their instructor said, strutting into the room.

A few people mumbled Oscar’s name in response. Everyone knew it was a dangerous game pissing off Toto. He never forgave tardiness.

Oscar showed up a few minutes late, sneaking through the crack in the door with his head ducked. Toto had his back turned to the class, adjusting the speaker.

“Piastri,” he said, turning around. Oscar dropped his bag and lightly placed his hand on the barre beside him.

“You’re late.” Toto crossed his arms.

“I suppose I am,” Oscar smiled and a few girls around him giggled.

“Get out of my class.” Toto nodded towards the door.

“Sorry?” he questioned.

“You heard me. Out. Late students do not dance.”

“You’re joking,” Oscar grabbed the barre tightly. “I’m the leading man, you can’t practice this dance without me.”

“Carlos will take your place today,” Toto stated. Carlos met Oscar’s eyes, smirking at him deviously. This did nothing but inflate Carlos’ ego.

“This is a fucking joke,” Oscar mumbled, grabbing his bag.

“Watch your mouth before I replace you completely.”

“Let that be a lesson to all of you.” Toto sighed, watching Oscar leave the class. “We’re going to start with some simple grande plié’s, tendu’s, and penché's. Then the girls will put on their pointe shoes, we'll do a few across the floor combos, and then work on the pas de deux. Carlos, thank you for filling in today.”

Carlos nodded in response.

“Looks like Oscar fucked around and found out.” A girl in the class whispered, eliciting a few laughs.

Oscar was first in class the next day, stealing Carlos’ sacred barre spot. It was ballet etiquette to let the older and more experienced dancers take their position first. A couple of people eyed him while he warmed up. Carlos arrived just a few minutes before class started as always and immediately noticed the man in his place. He took the spot behind Oscar and whispered:

“You’re petty.”

“You took something of mine, now I take something of yours.” he referred to the incident yesterday.

“Still mad that you showed up late? That was your own fault.”

Oscar rolled his eyes.

Toto entered the room, a group of women following behind him. The last person through the door was Susie Wolff, prima ballerina. The girls sat on the floor with their pointé shoes, hitting them on the floor to bang the noise out of them. No one wanted to have them clomping around the stage during their graceful variations.

“Abbi and Oscar, you’re up.” Susie said, gesturing for them to come to the center of the room. Oscar snuck a few glances at Carlos as the other dancers watched from the sidelines. Everyone stood with a complete poker-face, watching intensely for a misstep that never came. At the end of their performance all the students clapped and stared blankly.

"Abbi that was truly amazing." Susie praised her. "Try to get your leg a little bit higher during your développé's and I think it will be perfect."

Oscar was too busy watching Carlos to hear Toto’s critiques. “Piastri, are you with us?”

“Huh?” he snapped out of his stare. “Yea, yes I am, sorry.”

Toto sighed, “Alright, you two go stretch while Amna practices her solo.” As they made room for her, Oscar could hear his phone buzzing in his back. This caught the attention of both him and Carlos. He snuck over to it pretending to get water, hoping his instructors were too preoccupied watching Amna to notice. He checked the notification on his phone reading:

Lando

party tonight @ Charles’ be there at 10

Oscar

sounds good i'll be there

“Too bored to be paying attention to your fellow dancers?” Carlos asked.

Oscar flinched, not expecting a voice to come from behind him. He quickly shut off his phone and hid it in a pocket.

“I just had to check something,” Oscar muttered.

“Well, try to stay off your phone before you get in trouble again.”

Another hour passed and class ended.

Oscar

Is there anyone at your company you just despise?

Lando

no…?

Oscar

no one, really?

Lando

should I? lol my company is contemp, jazz, and hip hop so the vibes are pretty good over here 🤷‍♂️

Oscar pushed himself through the crowded party, spotting Lando and Charles laughing and drinking.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, noticing another person with them. It was Carlos.

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uniquexusposts · 3 days

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Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff Story type: novel Part: 14/? Word count: 3144 Co writer: @mistrose23

Summary: This was Matilde Jørgensen, the newly appointed team principal of Scuderia Ferrari, about to face one of the most nerve-wracking challenges of her life. She tried to save the team from more disappointing results and put everything on the line to make them world champion again. There will be a big challenge to lead a historic team as 'newbie' and keeping her work and personal opinions apart from each other. The big question everybody will be asking: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 12. You Don't Trust Me

The race on Sunday was a race that people were looking forward to. It was a perfect weekend for Ferrari so far; Charles qualified on pole, and Carlos would start from P2. Everyone had hope, hope that they could take the win home. But most importantly, Charles could break his curse. Unfortunately, Arthur was still affected with the Leclerc curse at their home Grand Prix, he had DNF'ed towards the end of the race.

There was pressure resting on Ferrari. They wanted to win, they were eager to win. It felt like they were in Miami again; the dynamic within the team was positive and energetic, but this time, it was real. They were one team, no one was left out.

Before the race, Charles almost couldn't control his nerves. The flawless weekend in Monte Carlo was new to him, he never got the chance to finish it flawless. If it wasn't a mechanical failure, it was a crash. He didn't want to let his friends and family down. He wanted to make them proud. He wanted to make the people of Monaco proud, and his fans, who supported him dearly here in Monaco. There was no way he could afford to fail. Again. Charles could make it, he was confident about it.

From the moment the lights went out, Charles and Carlos executed perfect starts. The Ferrari's roared to life, and they shot forward with precision, entering the first turn perfectly. Charles took the lead, showing his skills. As they navigated through the streets of Monaco, there was an air of confidence around both drivers that could be felt even through the TV screens.

The circumstances weren't too perfect, though. The weather played a big role during the Grand Prix. it threatened to rain multiple times, it could ruin everything. Matilde was monitoring everything closely, nothing would go wrong under her watch.

The team's strategy was spot-on. Pit stops were executed with military precision and exemplary tyre management. Charles and Carlos communicated succinctly with their engineers, providing feedback that allowed them to make real-time and quick adjustments to the cars.

Unfortunately, there was an incident with Carlos and Checo. Checo wanted to overtake Carlos, but his tyres locked up, and he touched Carlos. They both dropped down to the fifth and sixth position, behind Ocon. It was frustrating to the team, mostly because it wasn't a mistake from the team or Carlos, but a racing incident. Matilde was disappointed, but she had to keep her head up for Charles, who was delivering outstanding results.

As the laps counted down, the gap between Charles and Max grew. Every time the drivers passed the crowd, they erupted in cheers. The ambience felt special, it felt like everyone was eagerly waiting for this victory. Matilde felt the pressure coming up, just like the nerves. It would be amazing if she could deliver this home victory to Charles, but little did she know what was about to happen in lap 65.

"I want to switch to new softs," Charles said over the board radio. "I want to go for the fastest lap."

Matilde's eyes shot to the times and other data; he had no chance. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, and she bit her upper lip. She looked at Xavi, waiting for his answer.

"Negative," Xavi replied.

Matilde nodded, the only right answer. As much as she wanted to give Charles a grand slam, it was impossible to do so. Xavi's response was in line with their strategy, and she couldn't afford to gamble that would make a difference between a win and not.

"I'm gliding on these tyres," Charles mentioned again. "We're losing time as well."

"Negative," Xavi said again. "We will not take the risk. We stick to plan A."

"I am losing time because of the tyres."

"You're not losing time. Stay out."

"I am losing time. I want new softs," Charles clarified.

Matilde took a deep breath, and she looked annoyed. What part of the 'we will not take the risk' does he not understand?

"I want to take the risk and go for the fastest lap," Charles explained again.

"Negative."

"I'm coming in," Charles repeated, his frustration clear in his voice.

It was time for Matilde to stir. She felt a pang of irritation. She knew Charles was a fierce competitor, especially now he was about to win his home Grand Prix after a faultless weekend, but right now, he couldn't afford a pit stop. "Stay out, I repeat, stay out," she replied on the board radio, her irritation subtle creeping into her tone.

"I am losing time!" Charles protested.

"We do not have a free pit stop." She looked at his position on the track. "If you pit right now, you will end up behind Max with a gap of five seconds. There will be no chance to overtake him in the time that is left," she sternly said. Her eyes shot to the data; yes, Max was gaining time every lap, but Charles didn't lose time. By the time they finish, Charles would still be far ahead of Max if he stayed out. Matilde's eyes darted to the pits, the Ferrari crew was ready with fresh tyres. "If you come in, you will lose your chance for a victory. Stay out," she mentioned again, her patience wearing thin. "Abort this pitstop."

The pit stop crew were stepping inside the garage again, exactly what Matilde told them to do. She looked back at the screens again, Charles was pushing, exactly what he needed to do if he wanted a free pit stop. Seconds passed, and everything looked great again.

"... I'm already in."

Matilde's face straightened, and she looked at her screen; indeed, he had entered the pits. She turned around and saw a red car approaching their garage. "Are you serious?" she mumbled to herself, looking disapprovingly at Charles, who now stopped. She ignored his rant over the board radio, letting it all happen. The pit crew panicked and ran out with the fresh tyres. Matilde looked down, seeing how the guys struggled. Malicious pleasure, this was an almost malicious pleasure.

To make matters worse, the right rear tyre didn't want to go on. They were struggling. Matilde could only look at it and think how unnecessary this was. After a good twenty extra seconds, the tyre was on, and Charles drove away. It was silent, completely silent. Matilde's eyes followed the car to the exit. She turned around, facing the data and standings.

P5.

"No, no, no! Fuck!" Charles yelled.

Consequences of his own actions, she thought. This hurt. She couldn't help but feel annoyed at how a possible win had slipped away. The camera filmed how the crew in the garage reacted: they were bummed. She felt a camera on her, filming her reaction; she wanted to laugh and yell at the same time, but she told him not to come in, and this was not her mistake.

The data continued to roll in. Carlos moved a position up, making him a podium candidate. He was pushing, closing the gap with Alonso, trying to take the second position from him. Charles was pushing hard, trying to regain his lost positions during the disastrous pit stop. However, time was running out, and the gap between the cars in front of him was significant.

As the laps ticked away, Charles managed to close the gap with Ocon, but he couldn't pass him. It was a bummer that the victory that had seemed so certain earlier in this race had slipped through his fingers. Charles finished fifth, and Carlos was third. It wasn't the result the team hoped for, but the third position was the best they could accept this weekend. Matilde thanked the entire team for their performances and left the pit wall.

On the way to the podium, Matilde ran into Sylvia. They made eye contact.

"Expression," Sylvia said, pointed at her face and passed her.

Matilde straightened her face, trying to keep it neutral. She knew she had a face that was easy to read, but she had no idea it was that obvious. And apparently, her face showed what she thought during the race. When she entered the track, many people were already applauding Max, who got out of his car. Matilde decided to stand in the back, she didn't want to face the media and show her face. She wanted to give the team the celebration, they were standing in the front for Carlos.

"So, eh..." Christian found Matilde in the crowd and stood next to her. "What happened?"

"The Monaco curse," Matilde casually replied.

His eyebrows raised.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked in front of her. "It's a circus," she concluded and shook her head.

He leaned closer to her. "They can read lips, you know," he whispered.

"Consequences of his own actions."

"You can't really say that as team principal, Matilde. You can think it, not say it."

Her eyebrows raised, and she looked at her former boss. The man was known for openly sharing his opinions. "I'm saying this as Matilde, a supporter of the sport, to a friend. You will not hear me say this in the media or in front of the team."

Christian looked at her; he was impressed. He knew her as a sweet woman who barely shared her thoughts. Now she turned into a confident woman with an opinion, she showed no insecurities. A real leader.

"What?"

"Nothing," Christian said.

"But, eh, what was that? With Checo?" She looked unamused at him. Christian's eyes widened. She shook her head in disappointment. "It's a shame. Again."

"We haven't had a chance to speak to our drivers yet. It's too soon to speak."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "We will talk." Matilde looked at him, sharing a waitingful look before snorting when she saw his smile, a playful smile, he still couldn't accept the fact how much she had grown into a leader in a couple of months. "No, but for real, I don't accept this - professional-wise."

"We will talk," he repeated. "But hey, I wanted to ask if you want to join us for dinner tonight. Toto and Susie are coming as well."

Matilde let out a smirk. "You and Toto?" She turned to him. "Secret bromance?"

"Get out of here," he responded immediately. "No, Geri and Susie organised something. We are just being good husbands."

She nodded. "Thank you, but I will have to pass. You have no idea how much trouble I got into the last time I went out with you."

"Was it that bad?"

She blew up her cheeks and looked at him with a 'you don't want to know' look. "Maybe next time, but I really appreciate it." Matilde gave a nod to the front. "Go to your team, celebrate the victory."

Christian padded her shoulder. "Have a good word with your team before leaving."

Matilde looked at him when he walked away. Of course, she would have a good word with her team. Her eyes shot to the podium, she clapped and smiled proudly when Carlos entered the podium, she was still satisfied with the result. It may not be the win they were hoping and aiming for and definitely not the position, but at least one of the Ferrari drivers ended up on the podium after a difficult battle. When Alonso entered the podium, she also clapped. As a supporter, she liked to see Alonso on the podium - she grew up watching him as one of the best on the grid. And then Max, she smiled again and clapped. She grew up with Max at Red Bull, they were close friends, and she was proud of him. The Dutch and Austrian anthems blew through the speakers; once, they were anthems, Matilde lived for.

After the ceremony, Matilde went to Carlos to congratulate him on the podium. They had a brief chat about the race and the slightly disappointing result. Matilde said she was still satisfied with his performance and how helpful he was to the team throughout the race. Then, she told him to go to the media pen for the interviews. Once she arrived in the paddock, she got stopped for an interview with Sky Sports Italy.

"Matilde, there was a dramatic moment when Carlos collided with Checo. Can you tell us something about it?"

Matilde's expression was serious. "The incident was unfortunate, especially in the position Sainz was racing in. He lost some positions, but he managed to make it up and ended up on the podium. We still have to talk about it during the debrief, so I can't share much."

The reporter then asked about the disastrous pit stop. "What happened? How did it go wrong? It seemed to create a lot of tension between you and Charles. Can you talk us through the moment?"

Matilde maintained her professionalism, but couldn't hide a glance of disappointment. "Unfortunately, I cannot give you a comment on it. That is something the team and I have to talk about first."

"But how did it go so wrong? Charles was leading the race, having an outstanding race, a fantastic weekend... And then this?"

"As I said, the team and I have to talk about it before we can share any thoughts," Matilde gave the people a nod and stepped away, not wanting to participate in the interview if they only wanted to talk about the pit stop.

She was forced to stop for another couple of interviews. She stayed professional and refused to share anything about the pit stop. Matilde returned to the hospitality and let out a deep sigh; it was the tension she was holding in. She ran both her hands through her hair; this was a disaster. The potential for the Monaco victory had been within reach, and it had slipped away. Matilde knew that as the team principal, she needed to remain composed and focused on the path forward, but in this private moment, she allowed herself to acknowledge the disappointment and frustration she felt.

She grabbed her stuff and joined everyone in the briefing room, waiting for Charles and Carlos. It was silent, an uncomfortable silence. A few minutes later, Carlos and Charles entered the briefing room. If looks could kill... They sat down next to their engineers.

The debrief started.

"Fire away," Matilde opened the debrief. She understood that the disappointment and frustration among the team needed to be addressed openly for progress to be made. People looked at her, not knowing what she meant. "Fire away," she repeated. "If something stays unspoken, it will lead to further issues. Speak, talk, share." She encouraged everyone to speak their minds.

Charles scoffed and looked away. He seemed sceptical and even dismissive of this approach. He questioned her seriousness. "Are you being serious?" He made eye contact and raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

She met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Very much. We can only learn from this." They glanced at each other for some time.

He shook his head and looked away again. "My goodness. I just want to go through the race and go home," he mentioned.

Matilde took a deep breath and looked around the room. "Anyone else?" It stayed quiet. "Fine, let's begin then," she mumbled, knowing this would cause trouble in the near future.

People spoke about the race, and feedback was collected. Tension hung in the room. Everybody said what needed to be said, but not one word more. Matilde looked around, this team was everything but open to each other. She rubbed her face with her hands and looked outside for a brief second; she had to stay professional, but she was close to losing it. Did she fail as team principal or did... She was failing. When she looked back, she noticed Charles looking at her with a 'if looks could kill' and a disappointing look on his face.

They reached the pit stop during their conversation. The words about the pit stop were being rushed. On to the next part of the race.

"May I ask why you called for a pit stop?" Matilde asked Charles. She crossed her arms and leaned back on her chair. No one dared to ask it, so she would do it.

Charles licked his lips and raised his eyebrows.

"I am just trying to understand. Because you didn't show any errors or slow laps. In fact, your lap times were consistent."

"I saw an opportunity for the fastest lap," he casually replied.

"Where?" It was silent. "You didn't have a free pit stop, and Max was gaining time, but not enough to overtake you before the end of the race." Matilde leaned against the table again. "We told you multiple times not to come in. And what did you do? You come in. When I tell you to stay out, you stay out."

"I saw a gap."

"We did not."

"With all due respect, Matilde, I know what I felt in the car. I knew I had an opportunity, and it was taken away."

"I absolutely respect your passion for winning, and I, and if I may speak for the team, want nothing more than to see you win or to see Carlos win. We aim to be the best, be at the top of the podium as many times as possible, and bring a championship home to you both. However, the decision was made regarding this race with the team's best interests in mind. And I rely on your input, but also on everyone else's input within the team," Matilde spoke, hoping Charles would also understand her point of view on this race and the disaster.

"You don't trust me."

Matilde's eyebrows raised, and she looked at him with a confused but hurt face. "You came in seconds after I told everyone to abort the pit stop. You only mentioned you were in the pit lane when you were already in the pit lane. If you still decide to come in, be kind and tell us sooner next time."

"I did tell you!" Charles raised his voice. "Didn't you look at your monitors?"

"When I say to stay out, you stay out, and I trust you to stay out," Matilde mentioned, remaining calm. "What did you expect?" She waited for an answer. "You know why we told you no? Look at the results yourself."

"I saw an opportunity-"

"And we didn't!" She cut him off. "There was no need to stop. We could not afford to take the risk to pit. If there was no risk, you were more than welcome to come in and change your tyres, but there was no margin to do it. We wanted to go for the win, a safe win, to bring home a win," she responded, overruling his statement. "Even with a perfect pit stop, you still would not be able to pass Max. What was your goal in doing this?"

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc

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formula1fanfiction · 2 days

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Lewis Hamilton / George Russell

Title: Something a little more permanent

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton / George Russell

Characters: Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Lando Norris, Toto Wolff.

Prompt: George and Lewis are fuck-buddies but fall in love with each other only neither of them know how to communicate with each other.

Lewis really doesn't know how he would describe his and George's relationship. They fuck a lot, it's something they've been doing since 2019. George is always so happy and so willing to get a good hard fuck from Lewis. Yet at the same time, it feels like more than sex, at least to Lewis but it's something they've never spoke about.

Monaco qualifying has always been challenging and the whole weekend he's been full of pent up frustration and rage. That's why he had text George, and the younger man had turned up within fifteen minutes, his overnight bag tucked under his arm, already prepped and ready to go. God, Lewis loves him.

Lewis doesn't waste a single second, he tears off George's clothes and bends him over, his ass high in the air, glistening with lube, just begging for Lewis to take him. "Are you ready?" Lewis nudges the head of his cock against his entrance. "Please." That's all the permission Lewis needs, he slams inside of him with one swift thrust, George purrs obediently underneath him. "Fuck, you look so good stretched out on my cock."

"Please Lewis." George's hands are fisting the bed sheets, just waiting for Lewis to give him something. Lewis does give him what he wants, this isn't love making, they agreed on just rough sex, so he pulls out, just leaving the head inside and slams back inside forcefully. The motion sends George sprawling up the bed, as Lewis repeats the motion and slams into him again, even harder this time.

"Mine, all mine George. Only I get to have you like this." Lewis digs his fingers into George's hips, so tightly, that's he's going to have some explaining to do when Toto sees the finger shaped bruises. He's suspects Toto knows what they are up to anyway, it sends a spark or something up Lewis' spine. "All yours Lew."

Lewis sets a rough, deep pace, he wants this to be as pleasurable for George as it is for him, he angles his thrusts until he hits that bundle of nerves inside George. "Right, there, right there." Lewis smashes into it with every thrust, watching George's body shake from the pleasure.

"I want to look at you, when you come from my cock." George makes a noise of protest, as Lewis pulls out of him, his hole slightly swollen and twitches around nothing. Lewis roughly flips him onto his back and slams back inside of him again.

George looks at anything other than Lewis as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into him with all his might, purposefully missing his prostate, just to hear him beg for it. "Please Lewis, I need to come, please." Lewis slams into his prostate, George raises his hips and groans in response. "Yes, yes.." Lewis changes his angle yet again pounding into his prostate, with every thrust. George growls, relishing the pleasure he's finally been given, he's such a good boy, so responsive."Are you going to come from my cock without being touched?" It's the words that finally send him over the edge, he groans as he comes, spurting his thick load over his own stomach.

"Such a good boy for me, Georgie." Lewis bites down on the younger man's shoulder, he feels tight as vice wrapped around Lewis and it's enough to push him over the edge. He groans out a mixture of incoherent words as he spills inside of George.

Lewis presses a hard kiss to George's temple, it's the first time he notices the sad look on George's face. His release is still evident on his body, there is no need for him to have a scowl like that.

"What's wrong Georgie?" Lewis tries to look George in the eye, one small tear starts rolling down his cheek, panic quickly sets in, did he hurt George? Sometimes he forgets just how sensitive George can be. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, i'm fine." George wipes his tears away with the back of his hand, his voice is shaky like he's trying not cry. "You didn't hurt me, i'm just tired." George falls asleep soon after that, but he lets Lewis spoon him all the same. He can't quite shake the feeling something's wrong. "Goodnight, George."

Something pulls Lewis from his sleep, he glances over at the clock on his bedside which reads 3:47am. Lewis sighs happily, knowing he'd have a little longer to sleep. At least until he realises, it's George's crying that has woke him up.

George has pulled away from him and into a ball, his face is red and blotchy thanks to the mess of tears running down his face. The sight alone breaks Lewis' heart. He shuffles a little closer and wraps his arms around George's shaky body. "Georgie, love. What's wrong?"

A soft, pathetic whimpers leave George's throat, then suddenly he turns ice cold. "If you don't know Lewis, then I don't know what to tell you." George shuffles away, until he's precariously hanging on to the edge of the bed. George quickly cuts him off, before he gets the chance to say anything. "Don't say anything, I don't want to hear it." Lewis lets George have his moment, when George is ready to talk, he knows exactly where he is. It takes a while, but he finally manages to fall asleep again.

Lewis wakes up again, to the sound of his phone alarm this time, he groans in protest, it's race day and he's starting from a shit position. It's only when he sits up, does he notice George is already awake and fully dressed. It's obvious just by looking at him that he's had a bad night, his eyes are red and puffy.

"Did you not sleep well?" Lewis raises an eyebrow. "I usually leave you happy and satisfied, after a good hard fuck. What happened?" It's a cheap dig and Lewis isn't really sure why he said it. He feels even worse, when George doesn't say something sassy back, he jumps onto his feet and sighs.

"Maybe it takes more than just casual sex" George makes his way over to the door. "I'm going to go for breakfast." And just like that, he leaves Lewis feeling more confused than ever. Lewis quickly gets dressed and follows George out of the room, for once in his life he doesn't care about his fashion, he just wants to make things right with George.

Lewis finds George sat with Alex and Lando. Alex has an arm wrapped around George's shoulder and Lando is shooting him a concerned glance. They are clearly talking about him, judging by the death stare Lando shoots him once he arrives in the restaurant.

"Good morning Lewis." Valtteri pats him on the shoulder. "Are you okay, you seem sad?" Valtteri follows Lewis' gaze to George, who is now wrapped in a full cuddle from Alex. "Trouble in paradise?" The Fin chuckles and walks away, realising he's getting no response from Lewis.

Lewis decides to chance and takes the seat next to Lando, across from judge. "George, if i've done something, can you please just tell me?" George abruptly pulls away from Alex, just noticing Lewis has joined them. "You just don't get it, do you?" George stands up and storms off.

"For god sake Lewis, stop playing with his feelings, I better go and find him." Lando stands up, but Toto Wolff storms over with a face like thunder. "Thank you Norris, but it seems Lewis has caused this problem, it should be him." Lewis knows it's pointless to argue with his team principal and gets up to leave. "Just read the room Lewis." Toto adds softly as he walks away.

He doesn't have to go far, he finds George tucked behind a corner, his knees pulled up to his chin, still crying. "Hey." Lewis sits down beside him. "Can you please tell me what's wrong?"

George sighs. "I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this." His watery blue eyes flicker up and meet Lewis' warm brown ones. "I didn't mind being your slut, not at first it's just now you're going to Ferrari I guess I thought we'd end up something more permanent." George breaks down into another fit of tears, and honestly Lewis couldn't be more confused. It hurts that George felt like his slut but Lewis does love George, more than anything and he had thought he'd been clear with his feelings. Obviously not.

"You do know I love you George, right?" Lewis reaches for George's hand, but he quickly pulls his own hand away. "You can't just say that because of what I just said, you have to mean it."

"I do mean it, i'm sorry George, I thought you knew." George stops crying and looks up at Lewis. "In what world, how was I supposed to know? You keep saying weird things in the media about me, everyone thinks you hate me, then I start to believe it too and then I get texts asking if you can fuck me. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"fuck, I'm so sorry George, you're right. My racing relationship and my physical relationship with you is two separate things and i've been so angry with how shit the car is, I guess I started taking it out on you. I'm sorry George, I do really love you."

"So, i'm not just your slut?" George rubs his tears away, his smile finally breaks through. "You said, you thought we would become something more permanent, do you still want that?"

"More than anything Lew, I just want to be yours." Lewis offers his hand and helps George onto his feet. "Okay, let me prove it to you." George nods. Lewis' heart is pounding, he's about to take the biggest decision of his life but if this is what he takes to prove his love to George, then so be it.

George gasps as Lewis roughly pulls him by the arm out of the hotel lobby and back into the breakfast room. He finds Toto, Lando and Alex in conversation with each other, which is perfect because those are the guys he needs to prove himself to "Guys, I have an announcement to make"

Toto looks from Lewis' smiling face, to George's very confused one and raises an eyebrow at them. Lando has his arms folded and Alex looks mildly intrigued. "Go on then, Lewis."

What is the least cringe way, to announce your relationship? "Hello everyone I would like to introduce you to my boyfriend, George Russell" Okay, he definitely failed in the cringe department but George's beaming smile makes it all worth it.

Toto smiles. "So this is your coming out then." Lewis nods. "I assume that means we have your approval?" Lando giggles and it feels like Lewis is missing out on something. "It's taken you long enough, George has been pining over you for years." Toto is beaming. "Of course, I approve."

"I love you Lewis." George has tears in his eyes again, at least this time they are happy ones. "I love you too, George."

#formula 1 fanfiction #fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #mxm #fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #mxm smut #george russell #lewis hamilton #britcedes #Gewis

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bananasomg · 3 days

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not so subtle

Based on the Bahrain GP 2024.

Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen // Rating: Mature

Summary: Charles is in high spirits throughout the weekend until race day. Nothing seems to go right. His car is borderline undriveable, and he nearly crashes. What he doesn't expect is Max's reaction.

Or: Max almost loses it when he hears about Charles' brake balance issues, and if he's ever going to be okay again, he needs to see Charles now.

Part 1 of Scenes from 2024.

#f1 fanfic #lestappen #f1 rpf fic #f1 fic #lestappen fic #if you know me irl no you dont #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #charles leclerc x max verstappen #ao3 #bananasomg #writing for me sharing with you #scenesfrom2024 #notsosubtle

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wanderingblindly · 11 months

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#why must i work #I just want to work on my lestappen WIP #free me from this hell (my comfortable office job)#archive of our own #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #lestappen

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dilemmaontwolegs · 3 months

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You Came, You Called || LN4

Summary: when strangers follow you from the nightclub there’s only one person you want to call.

Warnings: angst, threatening behaviour, fluff

WC: 2.4K

Lando stirred at the sound of his phone ringing on the bedside table. There were few people who could get past the ‘do not disturb’ setting that came into effect after midnight. With bleary eyes he reached for the phone and cringed at the bright light in his face but the sight of your name chased away his exhaustion.

It had been 162 days since you last spoke to him. It had been 162 days since he had ruined everything. He regretted his foolishness for every single one of those days and his stomach flipped at the thought of hearing your voice.

“Hey,” he answered, a flinch following as his voice cracked from lack of use while he slept. He quickly cleared it before trying again. “Hey.”

“Hey, baby.”

Alarm bells rang in his head and he sat up straight. Had you called the wrong man? That thought soured in his mouth.

“I’m on my way home.”

It wasn’t your unsteady voice he was focused on but the male voices that sounded far too close for his liking. “Aw, don’t call your boyfriend. We only want to talk.”

“Where are you?” Lando was already pulling on a pair of sweatpants and grabbing the first shirt he came across. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you whispered with a tremble in your tone. “I miss you.”

“Tell me where you are, sweetheart. I’m on my way.”

“Come on, gorgeous, it’s just a bit of fun,” a man called out and Lando saw red when he heard you choke back a sob. He knew the sound because he had been the reason for it before, and it had haunted him ever since. “He doesn’t have to know.”

“I’m heading towards Chocolat Boutique, please hurry.”

“I’m coming, sweetheart. I’m on my way.” Lando was already racing down to the garage and jumping in his McLaren. The engine roared loudly in the underground space before he tore out onto the street. “Keep talking to me, okay?”

The small store would have closed hours ago, but it was down the street from Jimmyz nightclub which was where you probably had been. He didn’t even know you were in town, and he didn’t have a right to know your whereabouts anymore.

“I’m scared, Lan.” The pain echoed around him as his phone connected to the car and played in surround sound.

“I know you are, but it’s going to be okay. I’m almost there, I promise.” He didn’t care about speeding tickets or running red lights. He flew through the narrow streets as he was forced to listen to the cat calls.

“I didn’t know who to call,” you admitted as you tried to walk faster but your heels hindered any escape. The three men were getting closer but they were in no hurry as they prowled both sides of the street to herd you along.

“You can always call me, love,” Lando swore, taking the last turn fast enough for the tires to squeal in protest. “And I’ll always answer.”

He found you on the footpath clutching your phone to your ear, hand cupped over the microphone as you spoke to him. Fear had widened your eyes and your normal stature cowered under the gaze of the men behind you.

Twisting the steering wheel, Lando skidded to a halt beside you and threw the door open. You had seen him angry before, when races don’t go his way, but this was beyond anger. Waves of rage rolled off him as you leapt into his arms, your trembling form finding itself molding perfectly back into his body. Two puzzle pieces slotting back together.

“I got you, sweetheart,” he soothed as he cradled the back of your head and glared over your shoulder. “You’re safe now.”

He might not have been the most imposing figure but you knew Lando was strong and regularly had boxing lessons for training. You had no doubt that if anything escalated he would use every lesson to protect you, but the cowards shrank back into the shadows of the shops.

“Let’s get you home.”

You were in such a state of shock that you didn’t see Lando wince at his mistake. You hadn’t called his apartment home for 162 days, not since you packed your bags and left. But right now you longed for that place where you had felt so safe and secure, tangled in his sheets and he curled his body around yours.

He opened the passenger door and reluctantly stepped out of your embrace to guide you into the seat. The doors locked as he started the engine and you exhaled a heavy breath of relief when the street was left behind.

Tearing your eyes away from the tinted window, you looked at Lando properly and saw his disheveled appearance. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“I’m not.” He took his eyes off the road for a second before reaching over to take your hand. “You’re freezing.”

He couldn’t tell if you were shaking because you were cold or if it was the adrenaline leading to shock. Dropping your hand he reached behind your seat to grab a hoodie that was always left in the car. The material was soft and smelled like him as you pulled on, inhaling deeply at the familiarity of the scent.

“I miss stealing these,” you whispered as you buried your cold hands into the front pocket.

Lando chuckled at the admission. He missed seeing his hoodies on you and asking if you knew where his favourite ones were. You would lie and he would smile at how terrible the attempt was.

“You can steal that one, if you want. I have too many now that they don’t mysteriously disappear.”

The car pulled into the garage and you found the space where your car used to park now filled with a pretty Lamborghini. A new sense of sadness hit that of course everything could be upgraded and replaced. “You can take me to my hotel. I wasn’t thinking clearly, you probably have company.”

His lips turned down at the thought and he shook his head. Lando understood why you would assume that, after all it was the reason you had left. What he had thought was harmless flirting had wrought destruction on his relationship with you. He knew he should’ve deleted the messages as soon as they were received but a moment of weakness when he was away from you led him to reply.

He betrayed your trust and he had regretted it ever since.

“There isn’t anyone,” he said as he parked. “There isn’t anyone ever, just to be clear.”

You mulled over his words as you stepped out of the car and accepted his hand, trading the warmth of the pocket for his palm. You kept hearing the insinuation echo with each step in the empty garage.

“Did you go out alone tonight?”

You shook your head. “Ana felt sick so she left. I should have gone with her.”

“So why did you stay?”

You weren’t ready to admit there was a slight hope you would see him so you just shrugged. It was Saturday night in Monaco and Jimmyz was the place to be - especially for a handsome, single man like Lando. You hadn’t wanted it to be this way though.

“I stopped going there after…a couple of months ago,” he said as he unlocked his door.

“Why? You loved that place.”

“I loved going with you,” he corrected. “I got to hold you and dance, show you off to everyone. When I went back, everyone just wanted to use me.”

You could imagine the women fawning over him and the men trying to be his next best friend. Sex or money, it was all they wanted from him.

“I’m sorry, Lan.”

“Lan,” he chuckled, following the light down the hall to his bedroom. The blanket was tossed aside and his charging cord was half hanging from the wall, a testament to how quickly he had left his bed to rescue you. “No one else calls me that anymore. It’s always Lando Norris, full name, so fucking weird. It’s Lando Norris getting out of his car. Oh, look, it’s Lando Norris scratching his nose.”

You laughed at his impersonation and sat at the edge of the bed. It was such an innocent thing but it brought back a million memories made in this room and he was seeing them all too as he stood frozen.

“Are you going to stand there all night, Lando Norris?”

His eyes traced your lips that mocked him before he shook his head of the thought that entered his head. Going to his wardrobe, he grabbed a loose shirt and tossed it to you before turning his back. “That’ll be more comfortable to sleep in than your dress.”

You laughed to yourself as he turned away, despite intimately knowing every inch of your body, until you found his eyes in the reflection of the mirror. His tortured eyes dared you to tell him to look away, but they begged you all the same. Maybe you were feeling grateful for the rescue, or maybe it was just an old habit that you held his gaze as you rose to your feet and let your dress fall to the floor with his hoodie.

His eyes darkened and he groaned, but the sound woke him up from his stupor. “I’ll go sleep on the couch.”

“Wait.” You took a step towards him as he stepped towards the door. “Please stay.”

He heard the fragility in your tone and the residual fear from the evening creeping back. He knew it was a bad idea but he couldn’t find the words to voice them as he gripped the door handle.

You watched his fingers release their tight hold before he nodded. “But please put the shirt on,” he pleaded as you tested his self restraint.

It was summer and the air still held warmth despite the early hour, but you dutifully pulled it over your head and climbed into the sheets. Lando waited until you were completely covered before he walked around to his side of the bed and curled up at the edge.

You both lay in silence, back to back, watching the shadows on the wall as the minutes ticked away. Lando was like a heat seeking missile and he was fighting an internal battle to keep from rolling over and curling his body around yours. You had always loved physical contact, it was comforting to be wrapped in his arms.

You knew he was awake and uncomfortable.

He knew you were awake and uncomfortable.

A few more minutes passed and you could no longer pretend he didn’t exist, or that you didn’t want the comfort he could give. “Lan?”

“Yeah?” His response was instant and you felt the bed shift as he rolled onto his back.

“Stop being weird and just cuddle me so we can get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You giggled and reached blindly for him. “I am already.”

Your hand found his arm and he shimmied across the space until it curled around your waist. His knees tucked behind yours and his breath warmed your neck as he whispered, “I’m sorry. For everything. I know you hate me, but-”

“I don’t,” you interjected, twisting your neck to look at him in the dim light. “I did, I really did. But I don’t anymore.”

“You should. I hurt you so bad. I deserve your hate.”

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and looked away as you admitted aloud what you had known for a while. “I can’t hate you, Lan, not when I still love you.”

Lando froze still behind you and you weren’t sure if he was even breathing. “You still love me?” Disbelief, wonder, hope - it was so saturated in that question.

“I thought something terrible was going to happen to me tonight so I called you in case it was the last time I could. I didn’t want ‘I hate you’ to be my last words to you.”

Lando’s gut clenched at the thought and his arms tightened around you, crushing your back to his chest. “I wish you called sooner, I would come day or night to get you.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you do,” he said sadly. “Every weekend for the past five months I wonder if you are out drinking and clubbing. I know it’s not my place, and I lost all right to know where you are, but I need to know you safe, sweetheart. It kills me to think that there might be someone else looking out for you, because that was my job. It should still be my job, to protect you, because I love you too. I never stopped loving you.”

You squirmed in his arms but they were too tight to move. “Lan, I need you to let go of me,” you murmured.

“I’ve tried, but I can’t. I can’t give up on us.”

“Lan.”

His breath was shaky but he released his tight grip on you, despite his desire to keep you close. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said any of that.”

He started to pull away but you finally had room to move and followed. “Lando! Come back, you muppet. I just wanted to see your face without breaking my neck,” you laughed.

He paused, a little from appearing between his brows. “Let go…oh…” His eyes lit up even in the dark room and he bundled you back into his arms. “Muppet is my word.”

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. “I stole it too, like your hoodies.”

“I was a muppet so you can have it this time.” He pulled back so he could find your eyes. “Where does this leave us?”

“You broke my trust.” You felt him deflate at the words. “But when I needed you, you came.”

“You called.”

Your chest felt light with emotion those two words brought and you combed your fingers into his dark curls. “I don’t know where this leaves us but what I do know is that I really want you to kiss me.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Now? Are you sure? It might just be the adrena-”

“Shut up and kiss me, Lan.”

He didn’t need to be told a third time.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n

3K notes · View notes

hemmingsleclerc · 6 months

Text

A Livestream to remember

Dad!charles leclerc x Mom!fem!reader

warnings: fluff

summary: Where your daughter interrupts Charles' livestream without realizing it

It was a rainy sunday afternoon in Monaco, and Charles was at home with his girlfriend, Y/N. The sound of raindrops hitting the windows provided a relaxing background as Charles decided to relax with a live stream of his favorite video game.

As he settled into his gaming chair, the glow of the computer screen illuminated his focused expression. The virtual race was intense and fans from all over the world joined the live to see Charles.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Y/N was busy with her own activities when she heard Charles' laughs coming from his gaming room. Curiosity won and she decided to see what was happening.

Y/N opened the door quietly and peered into the room, where she found Charles deeply engrossed in the game. A smile played on her lips as she watched him, but before she could announce her presence, a tiny figure entered the room.

Their daughter, toddled into the room with a mischievous grin on her face. Charles, still engrossed in the virtual race, didn't notice her at first. The little girl approached the gaming setup with wide-eyed wonder, her curiosity piqued by the colorful lights and sounds.

When the little girl reached the gaming chair, she happily climbed onto Charles's lap, capturing the attention of both the livestream fans and Charles himself. Fans erupted in cheers and comments as they saw little leclerc.

charlesfanpage OMG LOOK IT'S EMMA!!!!😍😍

thelordperceval NO WAY STOP IM GONNA CRY OF CUTENESS

y/nandcharles EMMAAAAA!!!😭💕

Charles, momentarily stunned, looked down to find his daughter giggling and clapping her hands. A radiant smile spread across his face as he realized the delightful interruption. He took off his gaming headset and lifted his daughter into his arms, holding her close.

"Looks like we have a surprise guest, guys!" Charles announced with pure joy in his voice and giggling. The live chat exploded with heart emojis and messages expressing delight at the adorable intrusion.

Y/N, now standing in the doorway, shared a knowing look with Charles. Their daughter, oblivious to the online audience, continued to babble happily, stealing the spotlight from the virtual race.

5K notes · View notes

fastandcarlos · 3 days

Text

Wholesome Weekends : ̗̀➛ Alex Albon

summary: a rare weekend away brings some quality time for alex and y/n to make a few more memories

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, logansargeant and 90,486 others

ynusername: making the most of the next few days with you, can’t wait to have you to myself for the whole weekend ❤️

8,391 comments

alex_albon: can’t wait to spend every day waking up next to you

username1: my heart can’t take how cute these two are

username2: do we get to see alex’s pov of photo 1??

logansargeant: can’t wait to hear all about your trip ☺️

landonorris: can you stop making all us single people feel even more lonely please

ynusername: @/landonorris maybe one day you’ll find your own alex albon too 😂

username3: can’t wait for the spam to start

username4: have you ever seen a guy more in love 🤔

carmenmmundt: promise to compare trip notes in miami next week?

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt yessssss! hope you and george have the best time 🩷

username5: we want to hear all about the trip too!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 483,300 others

alex_albon: adventuring with my girl…could life get any better? ✈️

48,102 comments

landonorris: you could be adventuring with me instead 🤷🏻

alex_albon: @/landonorris my question was if life could get better, not worse 😂

username6: lando forever getting rinsed as the single friend lmao

username7: if you’re ever looking for a third wheel…I’m here 👋🏻

ynusername: i definitely don’t think my life could get any better my love 🥰

alex_albon: @/ynusername ❤️❤️❤️❤️

oscarpiastri: don’t forget to visit that cafe I suggested!

username8: oh to fly anywhere in the world with alex albon 🫠

username9: y/n forever getting those perfect boyfriend angles of alex

danielricciardo: these photos are almost alex.jpg worthy bro

alex_albon: @/danielricciardo inspired by the best 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by maxverstappen1, lance_stroll and 738,595 others

alex_albon: first things first, a quick pit stop to visit our babies 🥺🩷

78,499 comments

maxverstappen1: now this is my kinda content!!

username10: alex + cats = the perfect photo

username11: I want to be held just like how alex holds his babies

oscarpiastri: you look happier to see the cats then they do you 😂

alex_albon: @/oscarpiastri they were just posing for the camera 📸

username12: I love how they still prioritise the cats and shower them with so much love

ynusername: I didn’t want to move with all their cuddles 😭

username13: can you adopt me like you adopt all your fur babies??

estebanocon: how have you never introduced me to these cuties before 😣

username14: okay but who has cuter cats…max or alex?

alex_albon: @/username14 🙋🏽🙋🏽🙋🏽

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by pierregasly, carmenmmundt and 103,853 others

ynusername: I’d let you take me anywhere as long as I’m with you ☺️

22,939 comments

landonorris: eurgh enough with the soppy posts now

ynusername: @/landonorris you’ve got a whole weekend of this to enjoy my friend ☺️

username15: the holding hands, I repeat, the holding hands

alex_albon: the feeling is mutual babe 💕

username16: idek which of those photos has the better view

logansargeant: two hands on the wheel at all times, did you learn nothing from your driving instructor??

alex_albon: @/logansargeant you saw nothing, my hands are on 10 and 2 always 😂

username17: not logan scolding alex like he’s the perfect driver

username18: ultimate passenger princess mode activated

charles_leclerc: how come you’ve never offered to drive me around like this?

alex_albon: @/charles_leclerc I’ll hold your hand whenever you want sweet cheeks

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and 628,940 others

alex_albon: exploring with my favourite is an exhausting job but I wouldn’t have it any other way 🥰

63,493 comments

username19: pls lord let me have a boyfriend as sweet as alex

danielricciardo: you’re giving us high performing athletes a bad name sitting down on the job 😂

alex_albon: @/danielricciardo ever been a walk with y/n before?? she’s like a machine 😅

username20: I never want this weekend of photos to end

username21: y/n are you willing to loan alex out to a single gal pls?

pierregasly: damn make sure you get those leg muscles flexing brother

logansargeant: don’t let the boss see you sat down and relaxing 😉

alex_albon: @/logansargeant this is harder work than anything we do I swear

username22: they’re just everything

username23: these photos are making my heart so happy

ynusername: hurry up and catch up with me loser rather than posting on instagram 🏃🏻‍♀️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 93,504 others

ynusername: to anyone from williams looking at our weekend, I promise I’m still working him hard 💪🏻

9,408 comments

username24: you’re not convincing anyone y/n 😂

username25: poor alex never truly gets a day off

landonorris: what exercises were you doing? a lot of staring I imagine

ynusername: @/landonorris mind your damn business 🤫

username26: who knew gym alex was so attractive 😅

username27: if you ever need a workout buddy alex, I’ll sign up for free

alex_albon: best workout partner ever 🤩

maxverstappen1: true dedication to the job there buddy

carmenmmundt: george had me in the gym this morning too 😅 the perks of dating an f1 driver

ynusername: @/carmenmmundt usually I’d complain…but the sights I got to see this morning were pretty cool 🫠

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by logansargeant, carlossainz55 and 548,605 others

alex_albon: like any good weekend plenty of food has been demolished ❤️

47,963 comments

ynusername: as handsome as you are…that food was something else ☺️

alex_albon: @/ynusername agreed!! thanks @/oscarpiastri for the recommendation

oscarpiastri: @/alex_albon I knew you guys would love it

username28: now that’s the smile of a guy who knows his food

username29: how is everyone sleeping how cute y/n looks in that photo

lance_stroll: wherever this is dude you need to tell me!

charles_leclerc: you gonna make weight in miami after consuming that?? 😂

alex_albon: @/charles_leclerc honestly its touch and go

username30: I love how much of a foodie alex is…a guy after my own heart

yukitsunoda0511: I still need to cook for you guys! I’ll show you a proper meal

alex_albon: @/yukitsunoda0511 that’s an offer that I could never say no to 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, danielricciardo and 78,390 others

ynusername: sun, sea and 🤫, the perfect end to the perfect weekend ☺️💕

29,503 comments

danielricciardo: now that’s my kinda caption 😂

username31: y/n wtf I thought you were better than this

landonorris: I really hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying

username32: farewell to y/n’s pg era

yukitsunoda0511: someone might have to fill me in here 😣

username33: @/yukitsunoda0511 no don’t let anyone take your adorable innocence from you

alex_albon: thank you for the most incredible weekend bub 💕

alex_albon: ps thank you for making my back look insane in all these photos 🔥

ynusername: @/alex_albon I did nothing…you can thank my handsome model 🥰

username34: how can two people be so beautiful

iamrebeccad: my girl you are looking insane 🔥

logansargeant: nice to see all that time in the gym paying off 😂

username35: @/logansargeant doesn’t sound like they’re just working out in the gym either

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 179,493 others

ynusername: and it all got too much for little alex albon 💤

37,592 comments

georgerussell63: hahahahahah y/n you’re the best!!

oscarpiastri: and the award for best caption goes to…

username36: not y/n exposing herself for watching f1 memes 😂

landonorris: why you gotta do me dirty like this 💔

ynusername: @/landonorris stop being a walking meme then loser

alex_albon: thank you for making sure you capture all my flattering angles 😂🩷

ynusername: @/alex_albon 🫡🫡🫡

logansargeant: idk which I prefer the photos or the caption

username37: this is hands down my fave photo from the weekend

username38: y/n and alex forever making lando feel single is the best

danielricciardo: y/n stop! you’re coming across funnier than me 🥺

ynusername: @/danielricciardo I could never steal your crown king 👑

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

332 notes · View notes

jo-com · 2 days

Text

˙ ✩°˖🫐 ⋆｡˚꩜ ➛ Friend or Foe

Carlos Sainz x Fem!reader x Lando Norris

Summary: they’re on an endless battle for love— winner gets your heart.

Genre: SMAU

Fc: Sabrina Carpenter

Note: like usual, grammatical errors and others

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

────── ─ ˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗ ─ ──────

Liked by Carlossainz55, selenagomez, Landonorris and 1,367,902 others

Miss.Yn Just got home, guess who miss me!

View all comments

Carlossainz55 they’re not the only one who missed you😢

User1 okay carlos we see you

User2 smooth???

User3 he’s a smooth operator~~

Maxverstappen1 My cats asking if they want to meet

Miss.Yn alr setting up the date!!

Maxverstappen1 purrfect😺

User4 CAN I STEAL UR CAT

User5 she’s so pretty😍🥰

Landonorris ME! I MISS U

Carlossainz55 hey back off🙄🙄

Landonorris wdym??🤨 she’s not even urs

Carlossainz55 well not yet.

User6 FIGHT FIGHT!!

Miss.Yn what’s even happening😅

…

Liked by urbff, Vougemagazine, lilymhe and 1,765,209 others

Miss.Yn Cookies anyone?

View all comments

Francisca.cgomes Offended that I wasn’t invited🙍🏻‍♀️

Miss.Yn IT WAS A SUDDEN CRAVING

Francisca.cgomes that’s how it is huh

Miss.Yn BABES NO😭

User7 seems awfully quiet…

User8 waiting for @Carlossainz55 and @Landonorris to comment

User9 literally here just to see them fight😚👌🏻

Urbff the cookie was 5/10😘

Miss.Yn ONLY 5??

Urbff only bcz u didn’t tell me what @Carlossainz55 and @Landonorris chatted you🙄

User10 👀👀👀

User11 EXSCUE ME??

User12 no wonder they were quiet

User13 SHOW US PLEASE

…

Direct messages

Carlossainz55: i am a cook and ur a baker, perfect match!💕

Landonorris: I’d like to touch your dough

Landonorris: The one’s you made i mean😉

…

You put down your phone with a smile on your face. It was stupid to admit how they made your day, just by commenting and chatting you alone.

These drivers are sure determined— no wonder they’re perfect for their job.

Let’s just see who wins in the end.

…

Short cause i love updating even if it’s short😋 hope you guys enjoy!!

207 notes · View notes

scuderiahoney · 5 months

Text

Be Brave

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist

Summary: You’re a teacher, and someone’s had the brilliant idea to send your class full of 5 year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre. Chaos ensues. Oscar’s there to help.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: none

a/n: this is not the angst I threatened or the fic from the dialogue poll I did, but a secret third thing: a request I finally got the motivation to finish after seeing cute pics of Oscar with kids. Enjoy!

In hindsight, whoever’s idea it was to bring a classroom of five year olds to the McLaren Technology Centre- an active car factory- has definitely never stepped foot in a classroom full of five years olds. You’re lucky- your students are quite well behaved, and you’ve got plenty of parent chaperones with you. It turns out that about half your class’ families seem to be McLaren fans. Half your students had showed up today in bright orange- papaya, one of them had corrected you. You’re not complaining- it makes them easier to spot.

The field trip has been fun. The kids are thrilled about everything. It’s just. Tiny hands, tiny humans, wandering through an active car factory? You’re on edge the whole time. You’re constantly scanning the class, counting to make sure you haven’t lost any students as the tour guide tries to explain mechanical engineering in words that 5 year olds will understand.

You breathe a mild sigh of relief when they bring you into a large, open conference room. They’re going to have someone come speak to the kids in a few minutes. While you have the chance, and a closed room with enough people to guard the exits, you stand in front of your class and tell them to go wild. Seventeen five year olds begin to run around the room. One 5 year old clings to your hand in the quietest corner of the room.

Sammy. He’s a quiet kid, not one for the chaos. He’s stuck to your side the whole morning, staring at everything with big eyes and jumping at all the loud noises. You relate to him more than you’d like to admit. Somehow, the quiet kid turned into a teacher. It seems almost hard to believe looking back, how painfully shy you were.

Sammy tugs on your hand and points at a large mural on one of the walls. “Who’s that?” He asks.

The room you’re in has the two current drivers plastered on the walls, larger than life. You look where he’s pointing and smile.

“That’s Oscar Piastri,” you say, extending the syllables for him.

“Os-car Pi-as-tri,” he sounds out. “That’s my dad’s favorite driver.”

You smile. “Wanna know a secret?” He nods, and so you whisper loudly. “He’s my favorite too.”

Sammy giggles. “Oscar Piastri.”

“He says it better than most of the broadcasters, I think,” says someone behind you.

You turn and come face to face with none other than Oscar Piastri. You hope your shock isn’t too obvious, and you try to control your wide eyes. They’d said someone from the team was going to come talk to your kids- you hadn’t expected it to be one of the drivers. You smile politely as you feel Sammy step behind your legs.

“Hi. Sorry about the…” you wave your hand in the general direction of the children running around behind you. “If they didn’t get some excercise they were never going to make it through the rest of the day.”

“No worries,” Oscar says, smiling brightly. He looks at Sammy where he’s hiding behind you. “Not this guy, though?”

“No, Sammy here is very well behaved and polite,” you say proudly, before whispering, “and quite shy.”

Oscar nods in understanding. His face has gone soft. You weren’t lying when you said he was your favorite, and it only increases with the way he looks at the five year old so fondly. You think maybe Oscar understands Sammy all too well. You turn over your shoulder to look at the little boy.

“Sammy, should we practice being big and brave and introducing ourselves?” You ask. He frowns slightly but nods anyways. “We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nods again and steps out from behind your legs. You stand up straight, and he follows suit. Then you stick your hand out to shake Oscar’s as you introduce yourself.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, repeating your name back to you. “I’m Oscar.”

Sammy takes a tentative step forward and sticks his tiny hand out. You drop back just a bit and pull your phone from your pocket, giving Oscar a questioning glance and making a camera sort of motion with your hands. He nods eagerly before he crouches down to Sammy’s level.

“My name is Samuel,” he says, as he shakes Oscar’s hand. “But you can call me Sammy.”

You hide an endeared laugh behind your hand and snap a picture of the two of them. You know his parents will be thrilled.

“Hi, Sammy,” Oscar says sweetly. “My name is Oscar. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“You’re my dad’s favorite driver,” Sammy says. “And my teacher’s favorite driver. So I think you’re my favorite, too. Os-car Pi-as-tri.”

You stare down at him with wide eyes, suddenly feeling betrayed by your favorite student. Your face grows warm, but Oscar just laughs lightly and smiles up at you.

“Is that so?” He says, turning back to Sammy. “I’m honored.”

He stands back up, and Sammy goes back to clinging to your side. There’s a bright smile on Oscar’s face. You know yours matches it.

“So, are you our guest speaker?” You ask, trying to will your face to cool down.

He nods eagerly, eyes darting around the room, watching kids run everywhere. One of them bumps into the back of your legs and squeaks out a quick apology before running away again. He laughs lightly, hiding it behind his hand.

“Hopefully Lando and I can keep them entertained,” he says.

“Oh, they’ll be fine, they’ll sit quietly when I ask them to,” you say.

He gives you an uncertain look, a soft smirk on his lips. You laugh, hoping it’s not painfully obvious how taken you are with him. He’s been your favorite driver because of his level head and dry humor, but standing in front of him you can’t help but notice how cute he is. Before he can say anything in response and challenge your ability to control your class, Lando comes stumbling into the room.

“Okay, now this is my kinda school trip,” he says, an impressed grin on his lips. He elbows Oscar. “This was me as a kid.”

Oscar gestures towards Sammy, still tucked against your leg. “This was me, I think.”

Lando laughs and nods. He tilts his head at you, and you stick your hand out once again and introduce yourself. Sammy follows suit. Lando bends to shake the five year olds hand, giving both you and him an impressed smile.

“Sammy’s working on being big and brave and introducing himself,” Oscar says.

“Well he’s doing a great job,” Lando says with an approving nod.

“He’s got a great teacher,” Oscar says, grinning at you.

With that, your face grows hot again. You clear your throat and turn over your shoulder to look at the class. They’re beginning to slow just slightly. Perfect timing.

You clap your hands, and each of them skids to a stop, turning to look at you. “Okay, friends! Come sit up here, we have some very special guest speakers.”

The children all make their way to the front of the room, sitting down on the carpet in a semicircle. Even Sammy wanders away, taking a seat near the back. You turn back to Oscar and Lando, who both have impressed looks on their faces.

“I think we need you to run our meetings,” Oscar says, brows raised.

“Oh, if you give them permission to go crazy consistently when they need it, they’ll listen when you tell them it’s time to be calm,” you say with a shrug. “My mum was a teacher, too, she taught me that.”

“Yeah, if Zak let me be a menace before meetings I’d have a lot easier time sitting through them,” Lando agrees. “Alright, you little muppets!”

He steps in front of the class. Oscar gives you an exasperated smile, like you’re both sharing a moment of understanding. Maybe Lando’s still a 5 year old at heart. You laugh and step back with the chaperones to watch them speak as Oscar follows Lando’s lead. It’s fun to watch. You realize they couldn’t have picked better speakers.

Some of the kids recognize the drivers, but even the ones who don’t are enamored once they find out that these guys drive race cars for a living. You snap lots of pictures of your students staring up at them with wide grins. Lando continues to call them muppets, earning laughs each time. Oscar gets down on their level and uses a little model of the car to explain the aerodynamics. They give a horrible demonstration of slipstream, with Lando pretending to drive and Oscar pretending to be the air. Then, at the end, they open it up for questions. Eighteen tiny hands fly up into the air.

“Do you speed when you drive a normal car?” One of them asks.

“Never,” Lando lies.

“D’you ever fight with other drivers?” Another student asks.

“We try to leave what happens in the race on the track,” Oscar answers. “We’re all quite nice to each other outside of the races, actually.”

Lando shrugs and shakes his hand from side to side. A few of the kids catch on and laugh.

Sammy is sitting in the back of the group, his hand raised. He’s not waving it around, not bouncing up and down. But you watch Oscar scan the group, see him spot the tiny hand anyways.

“Sammy,” he calls out. “What’s your question?”

Sammy looks shocked to have been called on, but he clears his throat and speaks up. “What’s your favorite color?”

The grin that breaks across Oscar’s face is endearing. Lando smiles, too, presses his hand to his chest. You wait for the canned answer- papaya, you think.

“Mine’s bright green,” Lando says.

Oscar nods. “Mine is blue. What’s yours?”

“Mine is blue too,” Sammy answers.

“Good taste.” Oscar says. He exchanges a grin with you. You smile proudly at Sammy, so happy to see him step out of his shell just a bit.

The next student who gets called on says, “my mum told me to ask if you’re single,” and you clap your hands and walk towards the front.

“Okay, friends, I think Oscar and Lando have given us enough of their time,” you say. “Can we all say a big thank you?”

A chorus of little voices calls out varying forms of thank you. One of them screams it, and Lando winces. Oscar’s cheeks are pink, probably from the student asking about his relationship status. Is it bad that you almost wanted him to answer? You’re being ridiculous, you know. But his flushed face is cute, and you can’t help but smile at him.

You shake their hands one more time before they leave. “Thanks again. You’ve really just made their days.”

“We were happy to,” Oscar says.

“Yeah, you’ve got a good group of kids,” Lando agrees.

“And they’ve got a good teacher,” Oscar repeats his earlier comment.

You laugh, feeling your face grow hot. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

Oscar goes to say something else, but someone leans in through the door and calls out to him and Lando. He smiles sheepishly as Lando urges him towards the exit, tugging on his shirt.

“It was nice meeting you!” Oscar calls out before he disappears through the doors.

You turn back to your class and refocus. It’s time to move on to lunch, which is always the worst part of any field trip. Someone comes by to bring your group to the cafeteria. Your field trip worst nightmare- a large, open room full of people. You make sure all the chaperones are set with their groups and head off.

It goes fine. At first. You get the kids settled at tables and do a quick head count. Everyone’s there. They provide lunch for the kids, so you help to hand them out to everyone. Eighteen five year olds sit quietly, eat sandwiches and drink juice. You breath a little sigh of relief.

Then the kids all decide they need to go to the bathroom. You split them up, send them with chaperones in groups. You stay back at the tables with the ones who say they don’t need to go, knowing full well that in ten minutes they’ll be whining for the restroom. You clean up spilled apple juice and eat half your lunch. The bathroom groups come back one by one. Seventeen five year olds sit down at the tables.

And no, that can’t be right. You count again. Seventeen. One more time- seventeen. There’s an empty seat. You turn to the nearest chaperone, who also has a panicked look on his face.

“Sammy,” he says, eyes wide. “He was in my bathroom group, I swore he came back with us-“

You can’t panic. You turn to the nearest McLaren employee and tell them the situation. The look on her face tells you she’s going to panic, so you take control of the situation. You ask her to get everyone on the lookout for him, to page him over the speakers. Then you turn to your class.

“Friends,” you say, loudly. “Has anyone seen Sammy?”

Casey, one of the louder boys, raises his hand. “He stopped to tie his shoes when we were coming back.”

You could strangle the parent for not noticing, for not keeping an eye on the kids, but you don’t have time for that. At the very least, you have a starting point. You delegate a couple chaperones to stay with the kids in the cafeteria, and enlist a couple others to help you look. Panic is itching at the back of your brain, but you keep it tamped down. You’ll find him, and then you’ll freak out about it.

You split up, wandering the halls and asking everyone if they’ve seen a shy five year old with dark hair. They all tell you no, but that they’ll keep their eyes peeled. You check around corners, behind doors, in conference rooms and offices. You think you accidentally interrupt what was likely a very important meeting, though when you explain you’re looking for a missing child the men in suits all seem to understand.

The longer it goes on, the more sick to your stomach you feel. It’s Sammy. He got separated from his group and probably panicked just like you want to do now. He could be anywhere. He’s tiny, he could be hiding somewhere you’d never even think to look. His parents are going to kill you-

Oscar calls your name. It’s probably odd that you already recognize his voice, but you don’t have time to worry about that. You turn to look at him, and relief washes over you. He’s standing at the end of the hallway, his hand holding onto Sammy’s. You want to march down the hallway to them, but instead you collapse against one of the walls and press your hand to your mouth. Oscar pulls him towards you.

“I found him wandering in the hallway upstairs,” Oscar says. “He said he got lost.”

You nod, crouching down to Sammy’s level. He hides behind Oscar’s legs slightly.

“You’re not in trouble,” you say. “It’s okay. You found a helper, right? We always say that, look for the helpers. It’s okay! But next time you stop to tie your shoe-“ Oscar muffles a laugh behind his hand at that. “-you tell a grown up, okay?”

Sammy nods solemnly. You stand back up.

“Thank you,” you say to Oscar. “I owe you one, big time.”

“No worries,” he says, shrugging. “Knew you must be freaking out, so.”

You reach for Sammy’s hand and head for the cafeteria. To your surprise, Oscar follows. You’re not complaining.

“I’ve only been teaching for a year,” you explain, though you doubt he cares. The nervous energy needs to go somewhere, you suppose. “And I still feel brand new, you know? And school trips- don’t even get me started.”

Oscar laughs. “But field trips were the best part of school.”

“I lost a five year old in a car factory,” you say dryly. “Field trips are much less fun as a teacher.”

Oscar nods in understanding, trying and failing to hide his laughter. You come into view of the cafeteria and start counting heads. There are seventeen other 5 year olds still sitting at the tables. Sammy joins them, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Oscar does too. You pull out your phone and call the other chaperoned who went off to look, and tell them to head back to the cafeteria. With any luck, you might still be able to finish the tour.

“He’s a good kid,” Oscar says fondly, and you smile.

“He’s my favorite,” you admit. “I was a shy kid, too.”

Oscar leaves soon after that with a soft smile and an even softer goodbye. You wish he was the one leading the tour, but you know that would never happen. You’re lucky enough to have had the chance to meet him. He’s the same age as you, and he’s a world famous racecar driver. He’s probably already forgotten your name.

The rest of the tour is uneventful. None of your students wander off, and all of them are well behaved. They spot photos of Oscar and Lando in the halls and point excitedly at them, calling out their names. Finally, you’re brought out onto the lawn near the lake, and you give the kids a few minutes to play in the grass. You have the strong urge to lay down on the lawn and let them run until they all pass out. They have boundless energy, but you’re exhausted.

Someone nudges your arm lightly. You turn, expecting it to be a kid or a chaperone, but you come face to face with Oscar again.

“Oh god, did I lose another one?” You ask frantically.

He laughs. “No, no! Just came by to say goodbye.”

“Oh,” you say in understanding. “Thanks again, you know, for finding Sammy and for talking to the kids. I don’t think they’re gonna stop talking about this for ages.”

Oscar’s cheeks are flushed. “I’m glad they had a good time.”

You nod. “I did too, even with all the chaos. You have a really cool job, you know?”

He shrugs. “Not as important as yours. Tiny minds, shaping the future, you know.”

You let out a puff of air. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just struggling to keep the tiny humans alive, let alone teach them anything.”

He’s staring at you with this warm look on his face. You like his smile. There’s something comforting about it.

“Nah, I see the way they look at you. And Sammy introduced himself, you taught him that,” Oscar says. “That’s way more important than shapes or letters.”

Your face grows even hotter. “Thanks, Oscar.”

You see the bus pulling up the road out of the corner of your eye. About time to round the kids up. You turn towards your class, who are running around on the grass.

“Well, I’ve got to get them rounded up to go back, so unless you want to get mobbed by tiny humans you might want to make a run for it,” you say. “They’re distracted now, but they’ve been talking about you all afternoon.”

Oscar laughs brightly. “Yeah. I’ll head out. Um- d’you maybe-“ he pauses, and when you turn to him he shakes his head. “Sorry. Maybe I need to go back to school. Just. Have a good rest of your day. It was lovely meeting you.”

“You too,” you say warmly. “Thanks again.”

He disappears and you watch him go. You wonder what he was going to say- it sounded an awful lot like a question. But he’s gone now, and you’ll probably never see him again, so you try and let it go. By the time you get your class back to the school, it’s almost time for pickup. They’re all half asleep at their desks, absolutely worn out. Parents come by one by one to pick them up, and when Sammy’s dad shows up, you pull him aside and explain everything, the worst feeling in your stomach.

He laughs and shakes his head. “He does that to us all the time. We’ll be on a walk and he just- stops. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Sammy wanders over as you’re still processing the fact that his dad isn’t mad. “Guess who I met?” He says, staring up at his dad with a wide grin.

“Who?” His dad asks.

“Os-car Pi-as-tri,” Sammy says.

“That’s actually true,” you chime in. “I have the pictures to prove it.”

His dad looks at you with wide eyes. “If you’d have led with that, I wouldn’t have even heard you when you said he got lost.”

Despite what Sammy’s dad said, you toss and turn all night. Thankfully, it’s a Friday, so you don’t have to teach the next day. Every time you close your eyes you think of seventeen tiny heads, and one missing, and you feel sick to your stomach again. When you finally do fall asleep, you dream of children disappearing and warm brown eyes paired with an Australian accent. You spend the weekend trying to get your mind off of all of it.

On Monday, Sammy’s mother brings him into the classroom earlier than normal. You’re still turning on the lights and straightening things when they come in. He’s holding a little bouquet of flowers, and your heart melts.

“Sammy wanted to apologize for getting lost,” his mother says. “We know you must’ve been very worried.”

You let out a breath. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He nods, and you take the flowers from him. Then he scurries away to the play area.

“It’s okay,” his mother says. “Peter said you were really beating yourself up over it.”

You shrug. “It’s my worst fear, you know? I hate school trips.”

She laughs. “You know, he really likes you. We were worried, with how quiet he is, that he’d hate school. But you make it fun for him. So thank you.”

You smile, unsure of what to say in response other than, “thank you.”

You turn to your desk to find a vase or a cup for the bouquet, and that’s when you see the other flowers. A mix of white peonies and white roses and greenery, with little orange flowers stuck between all of them. You stop in your tracks. Behind you, Sammy’s mother laughs.

“Got a secret admirer?”

You shake your head uncertainly. You’re not sure how anyone even got flowers into your classroom this early on a Monday. But there they are, sitting proud and pretty. There’s a note tucked into the stems with your name on it, and so you pull the little envelope out and open it.

Hi,

I hope you had a lovely time at the MTC. I really enjoyed meeting you. I’d love to take you out for dinner sometime. Hope this isn’t too forward,

Oscar

His number is written below. You let out a squeak. You can tell she wants to look over your shoulder or ask who it’s from, but she bites her tongue. Sammy’s your favorite student, and his parents are up there, too. But this feels like too much to share with a parent, so you shove the note in your pocket.

“Just a friend,” you lie.

“How sweet,” she says, nodding. “Well, I’d better be off. I’ll take Sammy out to the playground. We just wanted to stop in and chat.”

“Thank you,” you say, turning to her with a smile. “And sorry. Again.”

She gives you an amused smile. “It’s okay.”

You carry the note around in your pocket with you the whole day, unsure of what to do about it. Of course, all your students notice the flowers, and they tell all their friends at lunch, who then tell all their teachers. Suddenly everyone seems to need to borrow something from you, sticking their heads into your classroom and just then noticing the flowers. How pretty! Beautiful! Who are they from? You tell them all the same thing. A friend. It’s only when your favorite coworker, Maggie, comes into your classroom later that you finally tell someone.

The kids have all gone home for the day, and you’re cleaning up the last bits of paper from your class activity. She walks in and beelines for the bouquet on the desk.

“Okay, I have a theory,” she says.

“And what’s that?” You ask.

“Orange flowers,” she says. “Someone from your trip on Friday.”

“Papaya,” you correct softly.

“Huh?”

“They call it papaya, not orange,” you say. She gives you a look, one brow raised. “I know. I…”

You dig the envelope out of your pocket and throw it to her. She opens it and gasps, sinking down in your desk chair. She must reread it five times, letting out giddy noises.

“So when are you getting dinner?” She asks.

“I haven’t texted him yet,” you admit.

She stares at you with wide eyes. “He’s your favorite driver and he gave you his number and you didn’t text him?”

“That’s the thing though, Mags,” you say with a sigh. You lean against one of the desks. “He’s an F1 driver. I’m… me.”

“Yeah, and he liked you enough to send flowers to your classroom.”

“It’s not that, it’s…” you shrug. “Those guys date supermodels and actresses and pro athletes. I’m… a teacher.”

“Babe, if you don’t text him you’ll regret it,” she says. “Big time. Just give him a shot.”

You take your flowers home with you, placing them carefully in the passenger seat of your car. You set them on your kitchen counter. They oddly feel like they belong there, like that’s what the room has been missing, though you didn’t know it before. And as you sit there and eat dinner, you take out your phone and type in a new number.

…..

It takes a while for your schedules to line up, but when they finally do, you find that Oscar’s a fun person to go on a date with. Fun might be an understatement, actually. You’ve never had a better time on a date.

You’ve been texting since the day he sent you the flowers, back and forth trying to coordinate a date at first. And then it turned into little funny texts, photos of things throughout your days that made you both smile. You update him on your class, he tells you what chaos Lando’s been causing. He sends memes, and you send him ones back. By the time you actually see him in person again, it’s like you already know him.

You’d been worried that a date with someone like him was going to be a fancy restaurant that you would feel out of place at. But he suggests a little hole in the wall pub that he says is his favorite, and you eagerly agree. You meet him there in a casual outfit, jeans and a cute sweater. He’s dressed in jeans and a sweater too, his hair adorably messy. He has that same warm smile on his face.

The two of you sit and order, and any awkwardness you’d expected just isn’t there. It’s like you’re two old friends, already comfortable with each other. He jokes with you, and you match his dry humor step for step. He’s the only person you’ve ever been on a date with who doesn’t seem to bore of your stories about 5 year olds. His knee knocks against yours under the table, and you don’t pull away. You find yourself leaning closer, actually. You’re longing to reach across the table, to feel his skin against yours.

You look around later and realize it’s been quite a while since the two of you sat down. The restaurant is starting to empty out. Oscar seems to notice the same, and reluctantly asks for the bill, refusing when you try to pay for your own. You both stand up from the table and head for the door. You stop just outside, breathing in the cool night air.

He nods towards a nearby park. “Wanna take a walk?”

You definitely aren’t ready to say goodbye, so you agree. He sees you shiver slightly, and within seconds he drapes his jacket over your shoulders. It’s warm, like him, and it smells like him too. You smile bashfully up at him as you shove your arms through the sleeves. When your hand pops out, he wastes no time in linking your fingers together. You bite back a gasp.

His hand is warm against yours. It sends a shiver up your spine. You hold on tight to him and hope your palm isn’t sweaty.

He turns to look at you. “I had a really good time tonight.”

You smile. “Me too.”

“I was thinking, wondering I guess,” he says, “If you’d maybe want to do this again?”

You slow to a stop under a streetlight. He follows suit. You press your eyes shut.

“Oscar, I… I had a really good time. And I really like you,” you tell him. “But you’re world famous and I’m just me. I just don’t know…”

He squeezes your hand. “We can take it slow.”

You sigh and open your eyes to look at him. The fluorescent light shines off his fluffy hair and his cheekbones. He has a hopeful look in his eye that you’d hate to rid him of.

“You make me feel grounded,” he says. Your heart twists in your chest. “You have since that day at the MTC. You’ve just got this calming presence. And I think you’re funny, and pretty, and- yeah.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You tease.

He blushes. “Shut up.”

It’s scary, really, to think about. You want to try but he’s a bit intimidating, no matter how well you get along. And the attention that will come from dating him is even scarier. But you think of Sammy, hiding behind your legs, and how you’re trying to teach your students to be big and brave, and how you should try that, too.

You laugh and squeeze his hand. “I think you’re pretty too,” you admit, just to watch his cheeks grow redder. A sheepish smile crosses his lips, and he rolls his eyes playfully. “And kind, and funny. So yeah. We should do this again.”

“Cool,” Oscar says.

“Cool,” you agree.

Then he kisses you under the streetlamp, his hand still linked with yours. And yeah, you could get used to this.

…..

Two months later, when Sammy comes into class, he points an excited finger at you.

“I saw you on TV!” He squeaks.

You laugh. “Did you?”

He nods assertively. “My mum said I was probably wrong, but I know it was you. You were holding hands with Os-car Pi-as-tri.”

You laugh and put a finger to your lips. He takes the hint, but he laughs the whole way to his seat. You think it might be time to talk to Oscar about going public with your relationship. After all, if the five year olds are catching on, the adults will be soon, too.

When your students find out, they beg you to take them to a race. You think back to the McLaren field trip and decide you’re never, ever taking eighteen 5 year olds anywhere near a race track. That would be bad for everyone’s health. But when Sammy shows up as a grid kid at the next British Grand Prix, that’s all on Oscar. It’s definitely not because he’s your favorite student.

Okay, maybe it is.

a/n: my lovely 🐈❤️‍🩹 anon sent me a photo of Oscar with a grid kid & said: Oscar and Sammy. Please look at this photo I screamed over it. can imagine teacher!reader standing off to the side trying not to cry over how cute Oscar is tbh. anyways thanks for reading!!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan

#Oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri oneshot #oscar piastri fanfic #Oscar piastri fluff #formula one fluff #formula 1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formual one oneshot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #honeywrites #op81

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forzalando · 5 months

Text

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles’ body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

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