We Never Talk About It ☆ Op81
we never talk about it ☆ op81
genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader
word count: 11k
It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.
inspired by this !
cherry here!... based on real events.
Do you remember the day we first met?
The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him.
You always have.
“A little bit. Yeah.”
He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.
Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often."
-
It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.
His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.
But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.
“You’re drooling.”
Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”
His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”
He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”
But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.
Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”
“Am I interrupting?”
Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters.
“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”
A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”
“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”
“How do you know?”
You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t.
“Just a wild hypothesis.”
Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones.
Zak grins. “You three.”
“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body.
“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.
“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”
“Oh, you Judas—”
“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.
With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver.
With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower.
He’s just becoming— too real.
“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”
“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his.
“Likewise.”
Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”
“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.
“Fantastic.”
A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”
“Nice to meet you—”
“Nice to meet you—”
You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush.
“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”
In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.
-
“He fucks with you.”
“Excuse me?”
Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”
You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.
It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.
You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble.
-
The start of the season is always tough.
“He’s extremely nervous.”
For some more than others.
You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”
Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”
“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”
“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”
“Ana—”
“Please.”
You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”
As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—
“Come in.”
He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”
“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”
Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”
“What?” A beat. “No.”
He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”
You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn.
“You’re going to do g—”
“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”
“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”
“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”
“It doesn’t do it for you?”
His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.
“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”
You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”
Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”
It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.
The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”
“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”
A timid smile. “I know…”
He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.
This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.
-
“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world.
You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”
“Yes! Ten—got it.”
He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing.
You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention.
Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand.
It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough.
How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?
Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles.
Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend?
You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.
Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”
Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”
You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”
Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”
Will perks up. “Her?”
The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words.
“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.
Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”
Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”
And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”
The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”
Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing.
The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”
Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”
The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.”
A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement.
“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”
-
“Is everything okay?”
Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”
Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”
The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry.
“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”
A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”
“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room.
The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help.
Woah, are you feeling alright?
“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.”
Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”
“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright.
A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”
He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”
A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”
With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”
You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”
Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”
Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”
The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you.
As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.
“That bad?”
“That annoying.”
And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”
“Yes.”
He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”
Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”
Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”
“You know how?”
“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”
The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter.
“Just…close your eyes.”
Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek.
It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little.
“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration.
As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you.
Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”
You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground.
Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open.
Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”
Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”
She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”
Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”
-
Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver.
“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace.
He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.”
A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”
“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”
You scoff. “How are you so sure?”
He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”
“Funnest is not a word.”
“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”
“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”
Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.”
“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”
“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”
You sneer, already walking away.
He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat.
You’re still sober?
Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.”
Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”
“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”
“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”
“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.
Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose.
“Stupid, stupid boys—”
“Hey.”
You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering.
Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”
“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”
Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”
“It’s a family heirloom.”
“A glass bowl?”
You giggle. “I wonder why too.”
Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it.
You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”
He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”
Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”
“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”
You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”
The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”
You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”
His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”
“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”
He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”
You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”
He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”
A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”
“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”
Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers.
Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers.
“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs.
“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess.
You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”
Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon.
“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”
“I’m not his girlfriend—”
“She’s not my girlfriend—”
Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”
“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando.
“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”
Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”
“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”
“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”
“You used to be fun.”
“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”
“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”
“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.”
Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands.
“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.”
“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.”
A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him.
You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”
“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”
You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”
She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”
“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again.
“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”
“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”
Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan.
The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing.
You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.”
As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief.
Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”
Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.”
She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.
“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”
He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”
You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”
He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”
-
It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision.
You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk.
It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing.
The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off.
“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”
Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop.
The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”
That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you?
A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”
The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”
Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”
He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”
Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”
He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”
Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”
The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”
You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”
He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”
“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”
Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”
It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning.
“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”
He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”
Your breath catches. “Os—”
All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other.
“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry.
You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”
A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”
A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”
Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath.
“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”
The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer.
“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”
You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”
“What about now?”
You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”
He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”
Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”
The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”
“I wasn’t pondering.”
“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”
“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning.
“I’m in love with this boy.”
He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”
You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”
He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”
The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”
A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”
Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”
Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”
Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”
Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”
A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”
His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”
A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”
“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”
By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.
“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”
-
That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome.
But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando.
You what?
A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”
“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”
His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”
Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”
“My dignity? A good friend?”
Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”
You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”
“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”
“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers.
“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”
Your breath hitches.
And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream.
-
Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean.
“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”
“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.”
She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”
“Definitely.”
At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”
He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.
“Thinking?”
You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”
And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts.
And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice.
“Do you know what song this is?”
Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?
“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”
The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”
“Oh yeah.”
The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”
Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to.
He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”
And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has.
“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”
You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might.
“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.
“I mean it.”
Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct.
You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now.
His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once.
“You’ve always been my dre—”
“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.
“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”
You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”
He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”
Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.
And let’s face it.
It was never going to be you.
-
You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues.
It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt?
Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.
But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend.
Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing.
The kind that lets you know—
You’ve lost.
His arms are tied around her waist, his head his nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you.
Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded.
She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you?
Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab.
It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough.
But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”
But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.
“You’re here!”
All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.
“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”
She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”
You blush. “No. Even better.”
“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”
“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”
“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”
Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.”
The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”
Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!
At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.
“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”
Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring.
You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”
“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”
His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”
Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”
“You are?”
Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”
He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”
“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”
Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”
Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”
“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”
“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”
His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”
It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”
Leaves rustle. “You were?”
“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”
The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”
“That I loved you too.”
He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle.
“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”
“A little bit. Yeah.”
A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.”
And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”
“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”
-
Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes.
“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”
“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”
He frowns. “I know that, but—”
“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”
Lando hums. “Understood.”
Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”
A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly.
Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”
“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes.
Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”
“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock.
“I really hope nothing changes between us.”
You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”
The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.
By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.
“I love you, okay?”
You smile. “I love you, too.”
Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.
Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”
“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”
“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place.
“What about me?”
She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”
Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.
“No. But I once got very close.”
taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious @notkaryna
More Posts from Abudhabby29-blog and Others
𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙈𝙐𝙇𝘼 𝟭 𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙎.
— note: hello !! here's my first shot at making a fic rec, so please give me feedback on what i can improve. thank you sm !! i hope you enjoyy 😺 😺
• 🩷 = my most favorite reads !!
𝙊𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙍 𝙋𝙄𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙍𝙄.
— blurbs and shortwritings
• untitled by @maxlarens
• summer break shenanigans by @clemsnovalak
• the little things by @avawritesthings
• had me at hello by @be4chywritez
• human heater by @pastryfication
• new meetings by @no-144444
— oneshots/imagines
• first time for everything by @katsu28
• decode by @keerysfreckles 🩷
• cold coffee by @tsunodaradio 🩷
SORRY BUT COLD COFFEE HAS GOT TO BE, HAND DOWN ONE OF THE BEST WORKS I HAVE EVER READ. tysmm @tsunodaradio for this absolute masterpiece 🙏
— smau
• imperfect for you by @afterglowsainz
• on the mend by @fastandcarlos
• secretly yours by @paddockletters
• yeah, my wife by @lewisvinga
• grogeous by @piastappies 🩷
𝙇𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙊 𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙍𝙄𝙎.
— blurbs and short writings
• little spoon by @mirohlayo
• sorry, chat by @tsunodaradio
— oneshots/imagines
• better than the novels by @drgnsfly
• d.n.f by @norrisradio 🩷
@norrisradio i love your work sm, if yall have time read their stuff it's so good
• redline by ↑
• pick your poison, babe by @tsunodaradio
— smau
• camera girl by @forza-pastry 🩷
• how do you turn this thing off? by @povlnfour
• party time by @norrisainz33
• next in line by @piastrisun
• secret but not private by @italiangirlcoresblog
• dj got us falling in love by @astonmartinii 🩷
𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙀𝙎 𝙇𝙀𝘾𝙇𝙀𝙍𝘾.
— blurbs and short writings
• retail therapy by @maxtermind
• tiktok trend by @russellsppttemplates
• in sickness and in cramps by @agentstarkid
— oneshots/imagines
• new recruit by @purinfelix
• dogsitter by @pomegranatesarchive
— smau
• 1-800-help-me-park by @httpsserene
• comeback by @harrysfolklore
• (piano) keys to your heart by @astonmartinii 🩷
𝙈𝘼𝙓 𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙀𝙉.
— blurbs and short writings
• drunk in love by @pucksandpower
• what are you doing? by 🩷@thepitlanepress
• this... is a french braid by @ipushhimback
• put me down by @thepitlanepress
— oneshots/imagines
• christmax by @harrysfolklore
• fluorescent by @scuderiahoney 🩷
• born to run by ↑
• always walk me home by ↑
• pick you up by ↑
— smau
• a night to remember by @oscarp-writes
• cute funny looking child by @pomegranatesarchive
• out of time by @afterglowsainz
• friend of a friend by @norrisainz33 🩷
• ending the war by @princepiastri
𝘾𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙊𝙎 𝙎𝘼𝙄𝙉𝙕.
— blurbs and short writings
• carlos sainz being hopelessly in love: a compilation by @harrysfolklore
• clingy by @vivwritesfics
• the dad who stepped up by @jungwnies
• sfw alphabet by ↑
• happy birthday! by @uglyducklingofthe2000s
• prank wars by @n0vazsq
— oneshots/imagines
• come find me by @tsunodaradio 🩷
— smau
• you and me by @sainzzreputaticn
• hand of gold by @pomegranatesarchive
• big news by @norrisainz33
• is it over now? by @afterglowsainz
• secret by @harrysfolklore 🩷
𝙔𝙐𝙆𝙄 𝙏𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙊𝘿𝘼.
— blurbs and short writings
• making dinner with yuki by @yukinss
• calm by @multicohn
• what about me? by ↑
• lover boy by ↑
• nightmares by ↑
• best friends "brother" by ↑
— oneshots/imagines
• i believe in miracles by @tsunodaradio
• love at first flight by ↑ 🩷
• almost by @norrisradio
• the one with the baby by ↑
— smau
• short king by @harrysespresso
• #1 defender by @lewisvinga
• short royalty by @rqsie63
𝙁𝙍𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙊 𝘾𝙊𝙇𝘼𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙏𝙊.
— blurbs and short writings
• good journalism by @purinfelix
— oneshots/imagines
• holly jolly faking by @julietsf1
• just for the weekend by @purinfelix 🩷
• lost and found by ↑
— smau
• challenge accepted by @hugleclerc
• nepo boyfriend by @harrysfolklore
• spanish or vanish by @papayadays
• i like me better by @taasgirl
IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR TYSMMM !! have a great day/night 🩷🙈
grid bunny - a (long) drabble
feat. max verstappen, lando norris, charles leclerc & carlos sainz
(it's dirty filth, i'm sorry!!!!!) 🐇
most grid bunnies know they're grid bunnies, they actively search for drivers to bed. but not you, you got caught up in this for some reason or another.
you joined redbull as a mechanic, you were proud of that title! not many can call themselves that! it was an opportunity to see the world and work on what you loved. the cars. your focus was on the cars, not men driving them.
you thought that the relationship you struck up with max was platonic, the thought didn't even cross your mind that he had any feelings for you. you thought to him you were just another face in the crowd. that was until you both split a bottle of wine and you ended up in his hotel room.
you were face down in bed and let him fuck you. he grumbled under his breath in dutch and liked to hold your head back. the three time champion loved to bite as well, your shoulders looked like a total mess by the time you staggered out of his hotel room. you however didn't get far as before you could get your pants in, the champion had his strong arms around you and pulled back into bed.
max was the kind of fuck that you knew you wouldn't get out of your mind. he liked it rough and dirty, he liked that he could move you into the position he wanted as he rutted up into you. it left you out of breath and hot all over, sweat stuck to the expanse of your back. he said to you in a brief break between rounds, "only the best." before he ran his thumb across your clit which made you grow tense. it only made him chuckle before his lips were on your neck again. "you look good in redbull colours."
you wouldn't end up leaving till morning, at least max bought you breakfast and some tylonel for the back pain. the hickies on the other hand had you zipping your coveralls a little higher to cover your neck fully.
-
lando was a flirt, he was all smiles and determination. you had assumed that word got around that the new little mechanic for red bull was a good fuck. he was in your personal space and made you laugh. he'd continue to make you laugh when his head was between your legs.
the driver didn't even get his racing gear off as he got you up on the couch in the driver's room. his tongue dragged along your pussy and you had to cover your mouth to not cause attention. the last thing you needed was some assistant walking in on lando norris, the second higher driver between your legs. headlines in the making. the gloves he wore were rough against your bare thighs as he sloppy noises he made filled the room. he ate like a man with an insatiable hunger, like he had been yearning to get between the legs of the little mechanic. "you feel so good." he groaned, "they should've hired you to bring a little relief to the grid." he chuckled as he looked up at you, "but i'm pretty sure i'd get just a little jealous if you were shared amongst the grid. bad enough i have to share with verstappen."
you felt flushed all over, so vulnerable under him. it was almost cute, as his tongue grazed your clit and soon his fingers joined the fray. you tried to keep noises down to a minimum. it was bad enough the max had rubbed it in lando's face that he had a grid bunny in his repertoire, you didn't want everyone to know about it.
-
every driver did know about it. which landed you in the arms of charles. he was smiles and sunshine, you took a liking to leo. but it was hard for charles to maintain the conversation when he saw you bent over to look at the dog. when you giggled at the animal's antics, you swayed a little which only enticed the ferrari driver.
he had heard from both max and lando about the mechanic that was scurrying around the paddock. with a pussy soft and tight, and a smile that was infectious. that and she was a easy to bed. charles didn't go after grid bunnies, but you were technically a mechanic, so.... charles however would take the longest to bed you, you thought it was because he was a gentleman.
that was not the case, instead he was trying to figure out how to tie you up in his hotel room as he fucked you. also forget about condoms, you had to scatter to different pharmacies in austin to find plan b.
the way he fucked you, he liked watching your face. he like the faces you made when he hit your sweet spots. it was almost a rivalry between the other two men as he held you face in his hand and maintained eye contact. no shying away from him as he moved his hips against you. "pretty girl." his voice was a low drawl and you felt your heart leap in your chest. his hands played with your breasts and you noticed when he got close, his tongue hung out of his mouth like a panting dog.
you'd never admit how good a cream-pie felt, you didn't want any of the others to know that they could do that. you weren't going bankrupt on emergency contraceptives.
-
if charles knew, then carlos knew. you were starting to get a little worried about it. you managed to get yourself through the top four ranking drivers, two from the same team. you couldn't help but feel a little flustered by it all.
the sex was amazing you weren't going to deny it, each driver had their strengths as a lover. the strength of max, the selflessness or lando and the eagerness of charles. carlos was a whole other beast entirely, he liked his hands in your hair. he liked the yank on it as he fucked you from behind. that wasn't his favourite activity though, he loved when you sucked his cock.
when you sucked his cock, it was warm up. he'd always get a little too excited and end up with you on your hands and knees. because of course, your main draw was your pussy after all! (sadly, not your mechanic skills). he did kiss a lot however, any time he pushed you a little too hard he'd smother you with kisses as he tried to ease his pace. but, it was hard. sometimes he forgot that you joined formula one as a mechanic when he was balls deep inside of you. his cock always nudged a little further than his teammate, which often took the air out of you. he had you by the waist as he moved against you. he'd often whisper praise to you, which only made your pussy wetter. he was diligent about protection which you were thankful for (two nights prior you were wrestling lando trying to get him to wear one). if you could describe sex with carlos it would be fun. even if it exhausted you, and he was just as rough as the other three.
-
maybe these men were egomaniacs who all fucked you as a means of one upping each other. passed between first and fourth. but, jesus were they big suck-ups when the post-nut clarity hit.
lando bought you flowers ("pretty flowers for a pretty girl!"), max snuck you some of the fancier food from the driver's room while you worked on his car ("you have to keep up your strength to help me win"), the lengthy almost romantic text message from charles before you started working "i hope it all goes well today, mon amour! i will be waiting for you at the finish line"), and finally the smothering after-care from carlos ("do you need anything? anything you want, i'll get.")
meanwhile you were around the paddock with a slight limp and rope burns around your wrists and thighs (fuckin' leclerc). but you appreciated it, it made you feel like you were more than just some stress relief for the top drivers. they thought about you, or at least thought enough about you, that these acts of kindness (maybe love) were on their mind.
they did have a habit of trying to one-up another. a race of their own for your affection. meanwhile you just wanted to make sure you weren't going to end up in hr's office. you just came here to fix cars!
-
at the end it felt like you were on a routine for each race with minimal breakaway from it. thursday you were with max, friday you were with lando, saturday with charles and sunday with carlos followed by an evening with who won (or at least got to podium), which often meant limping out of max's room in order to meet the other mechanics for the flight out of whatever country you were in.
you didn't want to think about the wetness in your panties when you sat in the plane seat. the plane would take off and the cycle would repeat.
by the end of the season, you were exhausted. as a christmas present you were gifted a one-way plane ticket to monaco. you looked at it then up at max who had his hand in your hair.
"where else were you going to spend the break?" he asked, not even taking into consideration that maybe you'd go home to your family, "i promise it is very nice this time of year, we want to make sure that you're safe over the break." he cupped you by the cheek and those blue eyes gazed into yours.
the idea of your safety needing to be assured sounded like a half assed attempt to seduce you back to the sunny shores of monte carlo. you wondered for a moment if you even needed to pack clothes.
"come home with us."
you took the ticket and looked at it closer. every excuse died in your throat, there was no way that you were going to weasel your way out of this. you should be happy, most would kill for the attention of one driver, and now you had the lingering gaze of four.
you just had to figure out how to get your hands on better birth control before the holidays started because you could only imagine the damage that was going to be done over the next few months. <3
pairing: oscar piastri x fewtrell!reader, lando norris x fewtrell!reader
summary: lando is one of your closest friends… until he sleeps with you and ghosts you.
warnings: SMAU (no written parts), swearing, mature themes, alcohol consumption (blacking out + mentions of throwing up), use of y/n
masterlist | next part
a/n: here's my first ever smau and the first fanfic i've ever published on tumblr lol <3 hope you like it!
liked by ynfewtrell and 289,588 others
lando.jpg ⛷️
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user LANDO JPG IS SO BACK
user he finally remembered his password!!!
user who's that girl omg
user magui probably lol
user no it's y/n!! check her post, she has the same jacket
user I'm just so happy he finally posted
user y/n's so cute
user i love their friendship so much
★・・・★・・・★
liked by landonorris and others
ynfewtrell i can't ski for dear life but at least i drank three gallons of bombardino (life is good)
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maxfewtrell They should ban you from skiing
ynfewtrell i only crashed into you twice?
maxfewtrell Tell that to the huge bruise on my left thigh
pietra.pilao Bombardino breaks my favorite 🤍
user save me skiing y/n
user icon behaviour actually
magui_corceiro ❤️🔥
★・・・★・・・★
★・・・★・・・★
liked by landonorris and others
ynfewtrell lazy morning
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gigihart noo don't suffer you're so sexy aha x
ynfewtrell IF U DON'T STOP SPOILING MY SURPRISE
maxfewtrell Why are you being naked on my front page?
ynfewtrell look away!
★・・・★・・・★
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F1 MASTERLIST
motorsports masterlist.
MAX VERSTAPPEN
the great war (ft. lando norris) (smau)
blowing smoke (smau)
friends (smau)
yes, and? (smau)
risk (smau)
fresh out the slammer
imgonnagetyouback part 2
the prophecy
CHARLES LECLERC
bye (ft. alexandra saint mleux) (smau)
eternal sunshine (smau)
CARLOS SAINZ
supernatural (smau)
so it goes... (smau)
LANDO NORRIS
the great war (ft. max verstappen) (smau)
when you walk away (smau)
so high school (smau)
barcelona (smau)
crush (smau)
OSCAR PIASTRI
we used to have more part 2 part 3 (smau series)
don’t wanna break up again (smau)
imperfect for you (smau)
obsessed (smau)
the secret of us (smau)
mclaren admin (smau)
guilty as sin?
ALEX ALBON
so american (smau)
DANIEL RICCIARDO
peace (smau)
FRANCO COLAPINTO
don’t smile (smau)
Can you make a Lando x reader based on the song Cindy Lou who by Sabrina Carpenter with a happy ending where she gets with another driver and Lando suddenly want her back
Hey there I actually have a series called I’m Pretty When I Cry and I have a Cindy Lou Who chapter planned for George - here
So if you’re okay with a GR ending lmk or if you wanna change the song 💕
…
Also on a completely unrelated note let me know if you guys want to be added to a general taglist for all the fics!
And part 1 of the Begin Again Series will come out today ✌🏻
6th Part of the Digital Portfolio:
Unfolding the Emerging Facets of the Self
── 𝙥𝙞𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙥!
𝓵𝓮𝔁𝓲𝓮 | 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘢, 𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴
about me. hello! my name is lexie, a 21 years old teenage girl far too obsessed with formula 1 and taylor swift. i’m a half filipino, half kiwi struggling dental student. i have far too much time in my hands yet somehow never enough.
works. i mostly write for formula 1 drivers but have written for lower formula drivers. you can find my masterlist below. please make sure to read rules and guidelines before requesting.
requests are currently close!
── 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙜𝙥𝙨!
𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨!
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ *ೃ༄ 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ *ೃ༄ 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ *ೃ༄ 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙨
˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ *ೃ༄ 𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙨
𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵.
© lxclerc 2024. all rights reserved. do not steal, copy, translate, repost and/or claim these works as yours. plagiarism is a crime.
ੈ✩‧cherry blossom in Suzuka (smau) ੈ✩‧
pairing : charles leclerc x hamilton! fem reader
summary : an official statement wins it !
This is part 4
Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here
tw : hate, cheating, rude comments
a/n : This is a series and it finally comes to an END ! anyways enjoy ! also feel free to drop in a request or a question ! ALSO would be great if you could drop what you would want for my next series !
·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ
liked by user1, user2, user3 and 768,467 others
f1wags It was none other than our Tifosi Charles Leclerc and Y/N Hamilton!!
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user1 and I oops-
user2 BRO WHAT !?
user3 what in the plot twist
user4 Hell no, charles was the one cheating !?
user5 we hated on y/n for nothing ?
user6 men are the problem to everything
user7 oh ma gawd
user8 bombastic side eye
user9 hell no, what about Alexandra?
user10 they played Alexandra 😭
liked by user1, user4 and 67,367 others
leosmom so you are telling me they are dating in these pics !??!
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user1 this is so messed up
user2 fr tho-
user3 CHARLES FUCKING LECLERC HOW DARE YOU CHEAT ON ALEXANDRA
user4 ew. Cheating men
user5 I knew it was Charles
user6 ew. men
user7 if Alexandra got cheated, what about potatoes like us -?
user8 MY Parents 😭😭
user9 I am a product of divorced parents
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alexandramalenart the paparazzi have certainly picked up the best photos ✨ @ f1wags would request if you could post the same photos without me being cropped !! I knew about Charles and Y/N, and me and Charles have split respectfully. I respect him and all my love for Y/N!! But before we could announce the split, it was obvious that the whole internet was against my girl, Y/N. It was my idea for Charles to post the tweet and let the drama subside before announcing our split and their relationship. This is just to make things clear, there was no adultery involved and it was a amiable split!! All my love to Charles and Y/N 🩵
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charlesleclerc thank you alex 🩵
liked by alexandramalenart
otherhamailton brb, gonna cry 😭
alexandramalenart love you bubs 🫶🏻
lewishamilton thank you for supporting them Alexandra !
liked by alexandramalenart
lilihye 🫶🏻
liked by alexandramalenart
franscica.gnomes 🫶🏻🤍
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landonoriss finally it's out 🙌🏻
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charlesleclerc the queen, ladies and gentlemen 🙌🏻🤍🫶🏻
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landonoriss so which Hamilton do you prefer ?
charlesleclerc so which way of dying you prefer ?
maxverstappen1 congratulations!!
liked by charlesleclerc
lewishamilton you know who am I crashing into if my sister complains of a fight
charlesleclerc EVERY GRAND PRIX I WILL HAVE A DNF !?
lewishmailton what do you mean -
lewishamilton Charles Leclerc, why the fuck are you fighting with my sister before every fucking gp ?
charleclerc @ otherhamilton
landonoriss @ otherhamilton
daniel.jpg @ otherhamilton
otherhamilton calm down lew, Charles loves to joke
charlesleclerc I don't -
george.russell mate-
otherhamilton Lewis, Suzuka GP 🫶🏻
lewishamulton done princess 🫶🏻
george.russell it's Lewis Hamilton using emojis, you certainly aren't even starting the race Charles
scuderiaferrari can I now pls get a picture with @ otherhamilton ? - admin Noah
charlesleclerc no.
otherhamilton yes 💌
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liked by charlesleclerc, landonoriss and 2,784,367 others
otherhamilton love this pookie 🫶🏻 p.s. lew, pls get this idiot in Suzuka 🫶🏻
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lewishamilton anything for you princess
charlesleclerc you want to see your boyfriend dying ?
otherhamilton yes.
lilihye AHAHAHAHAHAHA BEST COUPLE
otherhamilton NO, YOU AND ALEX
alexalbon thank you @ otherhamilton
alexandramalenart love 🫶🏻🩵
otherhamilton thank you so much alex 💌
oscarpiastri parents 🙌🏻
landonoriss step-dad 🙌🏻
charlesleclerc wha-
otherhamilton he is my son leclerc, any problem ?
charlesleclerc no ma'am 🫡
otherhamilton good
landonoriss 😁
daniel.jpg 🩵
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maxverstappen congratulations 👏🏻
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scuderiaferrari 3rd slide is our reaction when we get another 1-2 in Suzuka !!
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user1 not the official admin making fun of Charles
lewishamilton you did not just expose my son Roscoe like that.
mercedesamgf1 we would never
scuderiaferrari apologies @ lewishamilton and STAY AWAY @ mercedesamgf1
user2 not the admins fighting over some Hamilton or the other -
user3 glad to know all the drama has cleared up !!
otherhamilton 🤞🏻🫶🏻
liked by scuderiaferrari
user4 lots of love for Ferrari and Y/N !!
charlesleclerc you did me dirty -
scuderiaferrari pov- you just found out your contract with Ferrari is not ending
user5 ADMIN 😭
user6 ADMIN 😭
user7 ADMIN 😭
user8 ADMIN 😭
user9 he is getting fired yall
tag list : @tremendousstarlighttragedy @hiireadstuff @mayalove014 @5sospenguinqueen @ritaaaaaaa
@fastfactory @mxdi0 @cixrosie @grovelingmen @valntynebaby
@emily-b @marvelfangirl04 @xshazxx @smoothoperator-forever700
@dark1paradise @dannyriccsupremacy @nichmeddar @revrse @velentine
@leclercsluvs @vintagefucksstuff @vizzzashley @alisporchee @a-beaverhausen
@greantii @formulaal @ilivbullyingjeongin @chimchimjiminie16
@avada-kedavra-bitch-187
Rule Breaker - Pt 3
max Verstappen x single mom!reader
{masterlist}{prev} {next}
warnings: cursing, jos is an even bigger asshole, barely proofread, logan's there, glazed-over mentioning of childhood trauma Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 7937 (i got so carried away holy shit) auth.note: listen, eagle boy swayed me with his pretty eyes and soft voice... also this was a great excuse for me to rewatch Mulan for the millionth time. spotify: i made a playlist
"Team meeting in ten," GP commented.
Max nodded, eyes following y/n through the window as she paced in the small courtyard, talking on her phone. He hadn't seen or spoken to her since they'd finished the Q and A the day before. Surprisingly, he'd actually enjoyed it. He told himself it was because she'd made sure to gather thought provoking questions, not because some of his answers had made her laugh and her laugh made him feel relaxed. GP turned to look out the window and Max quickly looked down at his plate, even though he'd just taken the last bite of his breakfast. When the engineer turned back, Max could feel his amused expression.
"Looks like it might rain," GP said casually.
Nodding again, Max washed down the last of his food with his coffee. "More chances for fuck ups."
"It's not a crime."
He finally looked up. "What?"
GP nodded towards the window.
"If rain was a crime, would they put god in prison?" Max asked, keeping his face blank when his friend snorted and rolled his eyes.
"You're not a robot, Max."
From the corner of his eye he could see her approaching Christian, who was coming from the garage. "I never said I was."
"Then stop acting like one. You're still young, I guess you're attractive, and you're at the top of your career."
"Thank you for that endorsement," Max said drily. Horner had stepped aside with y/n, whose hands were moving as she spoke to him. "I'll be sure and put it in my Tinder profile."
GP's eyebrows lifted. "You have one?"
"Fuck no." He pushed his chair back. "I don't have time."
"Max," his friend sighed.
"I'll see you at the meeting." He took care of his dishes, making sure to thank the staff working the dining area before leaving the motorhome, telling himself it was so he could get some fresh air and clear his head for the meeting. His legs carried him around the corner to where y/n and Christian were still talking, and he boldly approached.
"…speak to him." Christian shot a look at Max.
"If he was joking I wouldn't think twice about it.," y/n said, frowning. "But I don't see how it could have been. He was extremely rude, implied I wasn't worth hiring based on my looks, and…"
Max kept his mouth shut, knowing she needed to do the speaking. Giving her a faint nod when she looked at him, he felt a glimmer of pride when she straightened her shoulders.
"I didn't spend four years in college – sorry, university – and work three jobs at once to be demeaned. I know I have the skills and drive to do my job, but if this team continues to foster that sort of toxic environment you'll have to look for a new social media admin," she said firmly.
He tried to but couldn't keep the smile from forming.
Christian looked slightly impressed, giving her a reassuring nod. "I understand. He's not employed by us, he's only here by our good graces."
"I know he's the father of the your top driver, and I spoke with him before coming to you," she said, as though Max wasn't standing right there.
Christian pressed his lips together and Max knew he was trying to hide his smile. "Of course. We'll deal with it, I promise."
"Thank you." She relaxed, sighing softly. "I'm not trying to cause trouble, Mr. Horner."
"It's Jos fucking Verstappen, he's the trouble," Christian muttered. "Don't worry, alright? If anyone ever gives you a problem, reach out to me."
She nodded. "Thanks again. Oh!" She turned to Max, smiling hopefully. "I already asked Checo and he said yes to doing it this week. Would you be up to 24 hours with you at Monaco? Not the full 24 hours since I don't want to watch you sleep, but I just stick with you for the rest of the day and show fans a behind the scenes look at what a practice or quali day for you looks like."
"Why?" he asked, still stuck on the thought of her watching him sleep.
"Well! Casual fans don't realize how much work goes into being you. The training and diet and analyzing and teamwork. All the stuff you do even before practice and quali, like walking the track."
"For the whole day."
"Yeah, except for sleeping. I mean, that would probably really ramp up views, but—"
"I'm not that interesting though," he said. Why would anyone want to spend a practice or quali day with him?
"Oh don't start with the modesty. You're an elite athlete. I'm not asking you to invite me into your bedroom and let me show your bed to the world, just a small peek at what you're like. We can highlight your sim racing, explain how it's helped you learn the tracks so well. Talk about your suit, why the fireproof is so important." She tipped her head. "Maybe a shot of your suitcase to prove you do have clothes other than Red Bull gear? If you do, because I'm beginning to think you only have one pair of jeans and a Red Bull shirt."
He laughed at that, shaking his head. "I guess I can do it. We'll see how Checo's goes."
"Perfect. Speaking of, I'm doing that tomorrow so I gotta start posting to hype it up—"
"Meeting in two minutes," Christian told them.
Max looked at him, chagrined to admit he'd forgotten the man was there. "On the way," he promised, rubbing the back of his neck when Christian shot him a knowing look and headed off. Turning back to y/n, he cleared his throat. "I'm not showing my suitcase to the world."
"Is it that embarrassing?" she asked, clicking her tongue in sympathy. "Do you have Red Bull boxers too?"
"No, I—" he cut off, remembering the company's joke birthday gift to him the year before. "Okay, I do, but they're not in my suitcase."
"At least let me throw a team logo pillow on the bed—"
"Absolutely not."
She fell into step next to him, an extra bounce in her walk. "Are you saying there's already one there?"
He shouldn't say it. It would probably be inappropriate. He told himself that repeatedly, even as he drew a breath and opened his mouth. "Why the interest in my bed?"
"I told you, I love sleep. Oh." She frowned. "It'll be a hotel bed anyway."
Opening the motorhome door for her, he glanced up at the cloudy sky as the aroma of flowers he couldn't identify washed over him. "No?"
"Are you saying you get an Airbnb?" she asked in confusion. "Do they even have that in Monaco—"
"You didn't know? I thought you asked Google everything," he teased.
Her brow furrowed deeply. "Didn't know what?"
"I live in Monaco. So no, it wouldn't be a hotel room."
The confusion melted away, her eyes widening a little. "Oh. Wow."
"Wow?" he echoed, heading to the stairs.
"You're rich rich."
"Don't say that," he requested, making a face. She made wealth sound dirty.
"In my defense I didn't think to look up everyone's salary when I got hired. I mean I knew you were rich, but—"
"Stop saying it—"
"Sorry." She smiled sweetly, which told him she wasn't sorry at all. "Have a good meeting, Max. Oh, wait!"
He stopped at the top of the stairs, huffing when she lifted her phone and snapped a photo of him. "Why do you need a picture of me right now?"
"To show the world that even Max Verstappen, three time world champion, record breaker and maker, is sometimes late for a meeting."
Dragging a hand over his face, he sighed. "You're in a strange mood today."
"I'm getting comfortable. It's what I do. Lull everyone into thinking I'm sweet and quiet, then once I know I can relax I let my true self out."
"I'm scared to ask what your true self is," he admitted, ignoring his phone when it began to buzz with a phone call.
"Chaos," she told him, snapping another photo. "And I'm so putting a team logo pillow on your bed next week."
"No," he warned her as she turned to go back down the stairs. "No pillow."
"Go to your meeting or I'll post on Twitter than you have Red Bull boxers!"
"You wouldn't."
"Try me, rich boy."
And, damn everything, he laughed. She spun at the bottom of the stairs, giving him a smile that was pure sunshine. Not about to tempt fate, he held up his hands in surrender and went to the conference room for the meeting, still smiling as he slid into his seat next to Checo. When the meeting was over he hung back, his smile long gone as he waited for whatever Christian had to say.
"Two things," Christian started, leaning back in his seat with a sigh.
Max rolled his water bottle between his hands and stayed silent.
"Your dad."
He nodded. "I'll talk to him—"
"He's on probation now. If he so much as looks at anyone the wrong way, he'll be banned from the garage and the paddock." Christian steepled his hands. "It would probably be best if I did it now, but…"
"I'll talk to him," Max said again, already dreading that conversation. "Sometimes he speaks before he thinks, and unfortunately y/n was on the receiving end."
"Are you defending him?"
"No. I'm saying…" What was he saying? He didn't even know himself, so how could he explain it to Christian?
"You're saying what he would expect you to say. Max." Christian leaned forward. "I know he's your father. But – what did y/n say? He creates a toxic environment."
Max was on his feet and pacing before he realized he was moving. "What do you want me to do? Cut him out of my life completely? He's my dad. He made me who I am." Slinging his cap onto the table, he ran a hand through his hair. "He gave up on a marriage so I could achieve my dreams. I know people call it abuse and yeah if I could change the past I would, or at least some parts, but… Would I be me if he didn't do what he did?"
Christian sighed and Max hung his head. The bitterness between team principal and his father had been around as long as he could remember. And he understood, he did. Most days even he didn't like Jos that much.
"What he said to y/n was unacceptable. I know that. When she told me, I…" He paused, unsure whether he wanted to admit what his first thoughts had been. Starting to pace again, he stopped at the window and looked outside, noting that the earlier clouds had rolled away. "I was ready to tell you to ban him."
Christian nodded. "You sure you want to talk to him? Because I'll do it. I don't have a problem telling him to go fuck himself."
"I should do it," Max said with a sigh.
There was silence from Christian, and Max finally snatched up his hat and sat back down. "I'll do it, Max."
He would never admit to the rush of relief at those words. "What was the other thing?"
"Y/n."
He set his jaw. "What about her?"
"She's off limits."
Max blinked. "How do you mean?"
"I've seen the way you look at her."
He pinched his eyebrows together. He wasn't aware he'd been looking at her in any particular way. He just…looked at her. It was true that she did make him smile a little bit more than he usually did, but that had to be due to her self-professed chaos—
"It's in her contract. Yours too, I'm sure."
"I'm – Nothing's happened." Yes, she'd slept in his private room and yes, his sheets had smelled of her and given him dreams he shouldn't have been dreaming. But nothing else had happened.
Soft hands, plush hips, bright eyes, lush mouth—
"Keep it that way. We can't afford another PR disaster."
Max snorted, unsure how anything he did – not that he would do anything – with y/n could come close to the disaster Christian had caused. "I'm not texting her, so."
"Cheeky bastard," Christian muttered. "Go get prepped for practice."
Grabbing his water bottle from the floor, Max left. Off limits. What the hell did that even mean? He couldn't be friendly with her? He couldn't keep his promise to watch a movie with Kevin?
Fuck Christian anyway, he wasn't one to talk about someone being off limits, he decided. He went down for another coffee, inconspicuously looking around for y/n. Not seeing her, he turned his attention to the upcoming practice, trying his best to push his worries about his father to the back of his mind.
When he approached the garage he saw her, and he frowned slightly when he saw Logan talking to her. Did they know each other? They obviously did, judging by the way she laughed at something he said. Sourness filled his mouth and he gulped down his water, grunting when a hand suddenly clapped his shoulder.
"Mate, you coming out tonight?" Lando asked with a grin.
"Not a good idea to go out before quali, mate," Max said automatically.
"I'm not gonna get drunk. A few of us are just going out to eat. You in?"
"I think I'll skip it. But we'll go out Sunday?"
Lando's grin widened and Max chuckled, knowing he was remembering what little he could of the celebration in Miami. Lando loved to party after a race. "Absolutely. Good practice, yeah?"
Max grinned, bumping fists with him before they parted. The American was still talking to y/n. Didn't he need to get ready? Go fluff his hair or something? Walking up to them, he nodded at Logan. "Have a good practice alright, mate?"
"Oh, yeah, better get to the garage." Logan turned and flashed a smile at y/n. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Sure. Be safe," she said.
She was smiling a little too hard, in his opinion. And then she was—
Hugging? Him?
Max felt like he might vomit.
"Later, Max," Logan said as he jogged off.
"What did he want?" Max asked.
She looked up from checking something on her camera. "Hm? Oh, nothing, just chatting. He's nice."
"Yeah, a complete sweetheart," he said with a roll of his eyes. Then, shoving the sourness away, he cleared his throat. "I've got the sim racing tomorrow after quali, then the race is Sunday."
Y/n blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes?"
"I promised Kevin we'd watch the movie?" he reminded her.
"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it, I know you're too busy. He hasn't even mentioned it again, I'm sure he's already forgotten." She turned slightly and knelt to take pictures of his car in the garage.
"But I promised."
"Max, it's really not that big a deal."
It was. To her it might not be. If she couldn't do something with her son when she had promised she could, she was able to do it another time. He couldn't just show up to her flat to watch a movie. And Kevin had been so excited… He tried not to remember all the promises that had been made to him as a child, promises he had learned at an early age would never be kept. "Y/n…"
She looked up at him, drawing a breath to, he was sure, tell him again that it was fine. But she paused, studying his face, and he heard her sigh as she lowered the camera. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"
"And to Kevin," he pointed out.
"He did talk about it a lot last night before he went to sleep. Made sure the hotel tv had Disney plus and asked if Ellie would buy some popcorn…" She sighed, smiling. "Did you want to do it next week before Monaco?"
"I was thinking today? After the practice and debrief. If you're not too busy," he added, unintentionally looking towards the Williams garage.
"No, I don't have any plans. Just editing and posting, and I can do that while you two watch a movie. I've got plans for dinner, but there's plenty of time."
"Plans?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual.
"Yeah! Logan offered to take me out to see a little of the town. He's offered to be my tour guide."
At night. Now he knew he would vomit. "How delightful," he managed.
"Yeah, he's sweet. Don't worry, I won't give away any secrets."
The sourness returned, doubled, and he recognized it now as jealousy. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wasn't his to be jealous over. Seeing that she was about to stand he immediately offered his hand, easily steadying her as she rose to her feet.
"Thanks."
He wondered what sort of cream she used on her hands. They were so soft. "Y/n—"
"Max!"
Y/n's smile faded and she practically snatched her hand away. "I'll message you the hotel info," she said, turning on her heel and sweeping into the garage.
"I need to talk to you," his father demanded.
Looking into the garage, he saw that he had a full thirty minutes before practice began. No way out of this conversation. Nodding, he followed his father to a relatively secluded spot, keeping his head down.
*-*
"His father is such an asshole, honestly. We were talking outside the garage and he marched up like he owns the—" Y/n glanced to make sure Kevin still had his headphones on and wasn't listening in. Seeing that he did and wasn't, she turned back to Ellie. "—fucking place and barked at him all 'I need to talk to you' like the guy isn't about to go out on the track."
Ellie made a face. "What a prick. What did he have to say to him that was so important?"
Y/n shrugged, bending to gather the dirty pair of socks off the floor. "No idea. He dragged him off and I could see them but couldn't hear anything. I felt so bad for Max."
"I would have too. And he didn't say anything when he got back to the garage?" Ellie smoothed the bedding while y/n stuffed the dirty laundry into a sack.
"Not to me." Sighing, y/n dropped the sack inside the bathroom and then got down on her hands and knees to make sure nothing embarrassing was lying around. "He looked like a kid getting yelled at, Ellie. I had no idea his dad was that much of an—"
She saw Kevin moving and stopped, getting to her feet while he set his tablet and headphones on the table. "Gotta pee, mama," he said, sliding out of the chair.
"Did you finish your game?" she asked while Ellie looked around to make sure the hotel room was presentable.
"Yeah, it's easy," Kevin said.
"Are you gonna tell him?" Ellie whispered.
"No… What if he can't make it? I don't want to get his hopes up." Y/n pushed the chair in at the table and checked the tablet, seeing that Kevin had indeed finished the alphabet game she'd downloaded that morning for him.
"If he doesn't come, maybe we can—" Ellie laughed when there was a knock at the door. "Never mind."
"It might not be him," y/n muttered, even though she knew it had to be. He'd been so insistent, and she'd been able to tell that it was possibly more important to him than it would be to Kevin.
"I'll make sure the lil rugrat washes his hand," Ellie murmured, slipping into the bathroom.
Y/n rubbed her hands on her thighs and went to open the door, giving the hotel room one last glance before doing so. And, just as she'd known, Max was in the hallway. "Hey," she greeted softly, eyes widening a little when she saw he was wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie. "Holy shit, you're allowed to wear non-Red Bull clothes?"
He snorted, letting out a laugh when she just stared at him. "Very funny."
"No, no, I'm serious. Isn't that in your contract or something?" Stepping back, she finally gave him a grin. "C'mon in."
"I don't know if he's allowed, but I brought some sweets." Max held up the grocery bag hanging from one finger.
"Yeah, he's allowed. No allergies or anything," she assured him, closing the door once he'd stepped inside. "He's washing his—"
"Mister Max!"
Y/n nearly teared up. Her son sounded so excited, and she had a moment of panic for letting him befriend Max. He was too busy to drop by regularly, and after Monaco Kevin would be staying home with Ellie, so—
"There's my little mate!"
Fuck's sake, even Max sounded excited. As though a movie with a three year old was the height of his day. Looking on as he swung Kevin up and spun him in a circle, she took the bag and emptied the packets onto the table while Ellie greeted Max and brought out the popcorn from where she'd hidden it from Kevin. Max and Kevin talked nonstop to one another, Max telling him about practice after Kevin gave him a detailed report on what he'd done all day. The boy grabbed his tablet and showed him the games he'd played, showing off his alphabet skills.
"You're good with letters, yeah? Maybe you'd be good learning a new language?" Max suggested.
"Do you know a new language?" Kevin asked.
"He's really good with him," Ellie whispered to y/n.
"Shh," she hissed. Because she already knew. And she didn't need it pointed out to her. Besides, she was listening to Max tell Kevin about the languages he spoke, then to him rattle off a few sentences in each one, much to Kevin's amazement.
"Can you teach me?" he asked hopefully.
"When I can, kleine maat." Max ruffled Kevin's hair. "That means little mate."
"You're my big mate," Kevin decided.
"Grote maat," Max said, repeating it slowly a couple times before Kevin said it properly. "There you go. You'll be speaking Dutch like a pro in no time."
"You want a drink, Max?" Y/n offered. "We don't have Red Bull, sorry—"
"Water's fine. Thanks."
"Can I have water too, mama?"
Nodding, y/n fixed their drinks while Kevin turned on the TV and opened Disney+, rolling her eyes when he told Max the password so he could put it in for him. She saw that Ellie was putting on her shoes and raised her eyebrows. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, I don't want to intrude on big mate, little mate bonding time," Ellie said with a small smile. Peeling Kevin from Max long enough to give him a quick hug, she grabbed her wallet and phone. "And I've seen Mulan about six hundred times, so I'm just gonna go for a walk. Take pictures. Get a coffee and a pastry."
"Have fun," y/n said.
"Mhmm, you too," Ellie said with a smirk as she left.
She rolled her eyes and handed Max his drink then Kevin his cup. Motioning for Max to have a seat on the small sofa, she couldn't help but smile when Kevin immediately climbed to sit next to him, and had the feeling that before the movie was over her son would be cuddled close to his big mate.
"Join us?" Max asked while Kevin looked for the movie.
"Work," she reminded him, transferring the sweets and popcorn to the coffee table and getting her laptop. "I'll watch from here."
"It doesn't look very comfortable."
"It shouldn't. It's work."
He looked ready to argue, but instead took a sip of his water and grabbed a bag of candy. Tossing it onto the table, he gave a small shrug when she looked at him. "You said you like strawberry milk."
Y/n looked from him to the bag several times. He remembered that? She'd mentioned it during the Q and A, when the question had been other than red bull what's your favorite drink? Staring at the bag, she felt a sudden rush of warmth. No one had bought her candy in so long… "Thank you," she murmured.
"You're welcome," he said softly.
She almost told him he didn't have to, but she knew that he already knew that. He'd done it because… She didn't know. Maybe to apologize for his father's behavior. Maybe to show he listened. Maybe, just maybe, because he'd seen it in the shop, remembered her liking strawberry milk, and had bought it because that was something he did, buy a little something for no other reason than you said you liked it.
She tried to focus on work, but the movie kept getting her attention. Finally she gave up, scheduling the posts she'd edited and closing her laptop. Grabbing a bottle of water, she joined them on the sofa as Mushu revealed himself to Mulan. As she'd expected, Kevin had already crawled into Max's lap, sharing his bag of popcorn with the man as they both focused on the movie.
"Mama," Kevin whispered, reaching for her.
She scooted closer, sighing as he turned so he could lean against her arm. Max shifted, and she tried to act nonchalant when he draped his arm behind her on the back of the sofa. Smoothing her son's hair, she pretended not to notice when the arm slid to her shoulders. He probably hadn't even noticed, she told herself, aware that his eyes were locked on the TV screen, paying attention to the movie. When Kevin's favorite part began he sat up, quickly sliding to the floor to sing along and she fully expected Max to pull away from her.
But he didn't, and she pulled her knees up, unable to focus on anything except the weight of his arm around her. It was solid but not uncomfortable, a very real reminder that she hadn't been in this position in a very long time.
"He's so mean," Kevin mumbled as Shun-Yu appeared on the screen. Y/n waited for him to hurry over to climb into her lap but he chose Max instead, and she bit back a sigh when the man gently soothed him, hugging him close.
"It's okay, kleine maat. The good guys will beat him, yeah?" he murmured, pausing the movie.
Kevin nodded against Max's shoulder. "Yeah but he's bad."
"A lot of people are," Max said softly. "But if we focus on that we don't see the good. Do you think about your happy days more or your bad days?"
"Happy days," Kevin said.
"Because they make you happy, yeah? If you think about bad days you'll always be having them. It's like that with people. Focus on the good and do what you can to keep the bad from happening. Bad happens, but the good will always be there."
"Okay."
"You ready to finish the movie?" Max asked gently.
Kevin nodded.
Max finally looked at y/n, glancing down when he saw the way she was staring at him. "I didn't—"
"No, you're good," she promised in a whisper, picking up the remote to resume the movie then hugging her knees. If she didn't occupy her arms, she would throw them around him. Usually she had to explain those things to Kevin. Ellie helped, of course, but Kevin always came to her for more explanation after a life lesson. But Max… He'd explained it so eloquently and gently that he'd understood. And she didn't know why, but, god help her…
It was the sexiest thing she'd ever witnessed.
His arm stayed around her shoulders through the rest of the movie. When Mulan was cast out, she got a little emotional as she always did, even after over six hundred views, and she felt his arm tighten around her, hesitating a tiny bit before letting her head lean against him. All she could smell now was him, the gentle but memorable sandalwood and amber scent that she remembered well from the day before.
"Gotta pee," Kevin announced a little bit later, clambering down and running to the bathroom. Max took the remote to pause the movie.
Y/n began to pull away, lifting her head when he squeezed her arm.
"You're fine," he whispered.
His face was so close. Seeing a tiny piece of popcorn on his chin, she reached up to brush it away, freezing at the sound of his sharp inhale. "Sorry, you got a little…"
When the hell had his eyes become so blue? Just a day ago they'd been a normal blue. Now they reminded her of the antique blue willow china her great grandmother had treasured. Her gaze slipped to his mouth and quickly moved back to his eyes and she heard him inhale again.
"Max?"
"Y/n, I…" His eyes flicked down and she unconsciously licked her lips.
She knew she shouldn't but she suddenly, desperately, wanted to know what it was like to kiss him. She hadn't thought about kissing anyone in what felt like a lifetime, but now she needed it. Lifting her chin slightly, she dropped her hand to his chest. "Max—"
"Y/n, you… I—"
"Okay!"
She snatched herself away from Max as though she'd been burned, going so far as to jump to her feet while Kevin rushed back to the sofa. "Go ahead and hit play, I'll be back in just a minute," she promised, nearly tripping over nothing in her haste to get as far away from Max as possible. "Hit play, it's fine, I've seen it a million times."
Once in the bathroom she closed the door and leaned against it, covering her face with both hands. What the hell was wrong with her? Just because she hadn't been kissed since— She dropped her hands, wrinkling her nose in thought. Kevin was three years and two months, and… At any rate, it had been so long she'd assumed she was never going to be kissed again. She hadn't even thought about it in ages, because she'd been so focused on work and raising her son and trying to survive. Now, all of a sudden, she was craving one so bad she'd practically begged him.
He'd been about to tell her he couldn't. She was sure of that. Which only made it even more embarrassing. How could he even want to? She'd seen the girlfriends of other drivers on the grid, there was no way he'd be even remotely interested in her. She wasn't a model or tennis star or whatever their occupations were.
Not to mention she couldn't. It would be wrong on so many levels. What kind of impression would her behavior leave on her son? Not to mention the troubles it would cause at work? And it was in her contract that any sort of fraternization with other members of the team were forbidden. She'd known that but she had read the full contract on the flight to Italy. If she and Max did anything it would eventually come out and she'd be jobless again, this time in a foreign country.
Checking her phone when she felt it buzz in her pocket, she sighed while reading Logan's text.
We're still on right?
She wanted to say no. The best thing for her to do would be to suffer through the rest of the movie, say goodbye to Max, have an early dinner, put Kevin to bed, then take the world's coldest shower. But she was already typing out her reply.
Of course! Looking forward to it.
And she was, she thought, seeing the delivered change to read then the three little dots that he was typing a message. Logan was fun. Nice. Completely uninterested in her romantically, she thought with a sigh.
Great. Be there at 8 to pick you up. Give Kev a high 5 for me?
Will do.
Pushing away from the door, she turned on the water to wash her hands and jumped slightly when there was a gentle knock.
"Y/n?"
"I'm almost done," she called.
She heard his sigh. "Can I come in?"
No. "Yeah, sure."
He opened the door and stepped in, and she swallowed when he closed the door behind him. "I…"
"Max, don't," she groaned, washing her hands and grabbing the towel. "You don't have to tell me you wouldn't have… Even if I wanted you to. I know."
"Wouldn't have what?" he asked.
God, could the moment get any more embarrassing? "I – You – Jesus, never mind."
"Kiss you?" he murmured.
Why did the way he said it sound like so much more than a kiss? "It's fine. Go back and finish the movie."
"Y/n, I can't."
"You have to leave?" she asked.
"What – no, not the movie," he said. Cupping a hand over his mouth, he breathed deeply and dropped his hand after a few seconds, looking pained. "I can't kiss you."
"Oh." Oh. "Do you have a girlfriend or—"
"If I had a girlfriend I wouldn't be in this tiny toilet with you."
And she believed him. He didn't seem the type to put himself in a situation that could be misinterpreted if he had a partner. "Right. Of course. Then…"
"It's…" He sighed.
"Are you gay? Because I won't tell any—"
"I'm not gay," he cut in gently. "It's… I'm not allowed to kiss you."
She blinked, suddenly understanding. And she wondered if he'd read the contract, too. "Right. Neither am I."
"Christian talked to you too?"
"No? Why would he?"
"He told me you're off limits." Max shook his head. "Said I look at you or something."
"Oh." He did? And just how did Max look at her? "I see."
"And it's in our contracts. Yours and mine, I mean. So… I can't."
She nodded. "Of course. Understood. No more explanation necessary, Max."
"I wouldn't want you to lose your job," he said softly.
She continued to nod. "Got it. Thanks."
He tipped his head, then reached to take the towel from her and she realized she was still drying her hands. "I'll still be Kevin's friend."
Still nodding, she picked up her hand cream and squeezed a dollop into her palm. "Thanks. He likes you."
"I like him too." He hesitated, watching her carefully. "You okay?"
"Peachy keen," she promised, rubbing the cream into her hands. "Just getting ready for my dinner."
His lips settled into a fine line. "Your date."
The way he said it irritated her. As though she was in the wrong for making plans with a new friend. "It's not a date, but yes."
"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time," he said with absolutely no emotion.
"Well, he's not contractually obligated to be nice to me, so… I know I will," she said, forcing as much sweetness into her voice as possible.
"I'm not nice because of a contract," he snapped.
"Right, sorry, my mistake. He won't not kiss me because of a piece of paper," she corrected.
Max's eyes flashed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "I thought it wasn't a date?" he asked carefully.
Good, at least he had some emotion. "Oh, so I'm only allowed to kiss him if we're on a date?"
"I didn't say—" He cut off, pressing his lips tight together and exhaling slowly. "You said it wasn't a date."
"Why do you care either way?"
"Is it a date or not?" he ground out.
"It's not." She took her hair down from the ponytail as he sighed with something like relief. "But it could be in the future."
"What, so you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?"
"If I kiss him, it'll be because both of us want it," she said. She knew she was being silly, maybe even a little stupid. But he was acting as though he were doing her a favor. As though he were somehow honorable, a gentleman even, because he refused to do what she now knew they both wanted.
"Y/n, I can't—"
"A word I'm sure you're not used to saying about yourself," she muttered under her breath.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, an edge in his voice.
"I didn't know that 'can't' was in your vocabulary is all." Looking at her phone to check the time, she cleared her throat. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to change."
He hesitated while she opened her makeup bag. "Do you want to kiss him?"
"Why do you care?"
He visibly bristled. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"Does he have a reputation for hurting women?" She picked up her hairbrush, and had brushed out her hair completely before he finally answered.
"No." It sounded like it hurt him to say it. "He's nice."
"Then you don't have to worry."
"Where are you going?"
"Oh, no." She laughed humorlessly. "You don't get to ask that. Now please, I have to change."
He stared at her, looking annoyed and irritated, his jaw still twitching. Then, with a huff, he turned to open the door. And froze when he saw the dress hanging from the hook. "Is… That's what you're wearing?"
"Oh my god, Max, you're starting to sound like a jealous boyfriend."
"I'm not jealous," he snorted.
"And you're not my boyfriend," she snapped.
She waited for him to turn around and restart their argument. Altercation. Whatever it was. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and snatched the door open. Went out, closing it. And sounded perfectly normal when he apologized to Kevin and resumed the movie.
Y/n was still annoyed even after changing and doing her makeup. She fussed over her hair, unsure whether she wanted to wear it up or down, finally leaving it down. She was fully aware that she was putting more work into her appearance than she would have if Max hadn't said what he had, and still knew she was being silly and stupid. Hadn't she just told herself nothing could happen between them?
Yes, but maybe if he hadn't acted as though he were doing an immense favor she wouldn't be so upset. I wouldn't want you to lose your job. Indicating that if he kissed her and they were found out, his job was secure.
"Sanctimonious prick," she muttered while she spritzed perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together. As she exited the bathroom the outer door of the room opened and Ellie came in, her jaw dropping when she saw her.
"Holy shit babes, you look amazing!"
She smiled, doing a turn for her friend. "You think so?"
"His jaw is gonna be on the floor the whole time. Holy shit, milf alert." Ellie whistled softly, waving her hand as though overcome with heat.
Y/n giggled. "Thanks."
The movie was ending and Kevin oohed and aahed over her dress, telling her over and over how pretty she was. Max stared at her, his jaw set, but said nothing, looking away and starting to clear up the remains of the snacks.
"Isn't she pretty, grote maat?" Kevin asked.
And even though her back was to him, she felt his gaze. Glancing over her shoulder at him while she fastened her necklace, she watched his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "Very pretty, kleine maat."
"You're supposed to tell her," Kevin whispered. "Always tell a lady she's beautiful. Right, aunt Ellie?"
"That's right, buddy," Ellie said proudly. She gave y/n an odd look, silently asking what had happened, narrowing her eyes when y/n merely shrugged.
"Because women are pretty all the time," Kevin went on and y/n smiled. At least she was doing something right…
After fastening her earrings she turned from the dresser, breath catching in her throat when she found Max staring at her. Vaguely aware of Ellie telling Kevin to wash his hands so they could eat the dinner she'd brought, she squatted, getting her heels from her suitcase, along with her shawl.
"Je bent mooi," Max said.
She met his gaze as she rose to her feet. "What's that mean?"
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
"Thank you." And though she knew it was catty, she couldn't help the words that slipped out of her mouth. "Do you think Logan will like it?"
His jaw twitched. "He'd be stupid not to."
"That doesn't answer my question," she practically cooed, slipping on her heels.
He made a sound of disgust in his throat. "He's annoying and dumb sometimes, but he's not stupid. So, yes, I think he'll like it."
"Look at you, hyping me up." She wasn't stupid either, she could hear and feel the jealousy. Good, she thought, getting her small handbag and transferring her few necessities to it.
"Is he picking you up?" Max asked. "Or are you meeting him somewhere?"
"Are you gonna stick around and question his intentions?" she scoffed. "Because if so, I'm meeting him."
"I just—"
"Do you want some pasta, Mister Max?" Kevin asked as he came out of the bathroom with Ellie.
"Ah, maybe next time," Max said after clearing his throat. "You eat some for me, hm?"
She wanted to be mad that he was so good with her son. Proclaim they could only ever be coworkers, then turn around and continue to be her son's favorite person. It wasn't fair. But she didn't want him to be mean to Kevin. So she smiled, fixing her shawl while Max told Kevin he would see him at quali tomorrow, wishing she could stay mad at him but that was impossible, especially when he lifted her son up and gave him a tight hug, telling him he'd enjoyed the movie.
"Can we watch another one day?" Kevin asked hopefully and y/n drew in a breath, prepared to say they couldn't ask Max that, he was too busy.
"Of course we can. You pick the movie and we'll watch it next week?"
He gave Kevin another hug then gently encouraged him to eat his dinner, smiling and saying goodnight to Ellie. Then he turned to her, and she felt an unexpected heat ripple through her as his eyes slowly looked her up and down.
"Thanks for coming," she murmured, walking him to the door.
"I enjoyed it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "For the most part."
"Kevin had a great time."
"Yes. And that's all that matters."
Ouch. "Goodnight, Max."
"Enjoy your dinner with Logan."
"I will."
He rocked back on his heels, exhaling harshly. "I'm…" He cleared his throat. "Goodnight, y/n."
She closed the door and bit back a whine. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
"Talk tonight when you get back?" Ellie asked gently, watching her while she fixed Kevin's plate.
"It's nothing," she insisted, double checking that she had everything in her handbag. Phone, ID and passport, room key, lipstick, mirror. "Just being stupid."
"You're not stupid, mama," Kevin said anxiously.
"I know, thank you. Sorry. Just feeling stupid."
"But you look so pretty," he told her.
She smiled, sighing as she crossed the room to kiss his cheek. "You're the best son in the world, you know that?"
He giggled, rubbing the lipstick from his cheek. "And you're the best mama."
"Only because you're the best son," she insisted.
"Do you like Mister Logan?" he asked suddenly, scrunching his face when she fastened the bib around his neck.
"He's nice. But he's just a friend."
"But." Kevin's lips poked out in thought. "He's taking you on a date."
"Dinner. You know how you miss Cotton?" She took a napkin and cleaned the smudge of lipstick from his cheek when he nodded. "He misses America sometimes. It's kind of like when you pet the cats on your walks."
"Ohh…" Kevin nodded with all the understanding a three year old could muster. "So he's gonna pet you?"
She blinked, instinctively reaching to swat Ellie's arm when her friend choked back a giggle. "Not exactly," she groaned. "We're just gonna talk."
Ellie was still giggling ten minutes later when Logan knocked on the door. "Sorry, sorry," she gasped when y/n shot her a glare. "I'll behave."
"That'll be the day," y/n muttered under her breath as she went to open the door. "Hey," she greeted warmly, smiling up at him.
He was dressed in slacks, a button down, and a jacket. His smile faded a little as he stared at her, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed. "Whoa. You look great."
"Thanks. You do too."
She let him in so Kevin could say hi, ducking into the bathroom to fix her lipstick and remind herself that it was just dinner. Logan was just a friend, or at least would hopefully be a friend. Saying goodnight to her son, she felt her shawl slipping, ignoring Ellie's knowing look when Logan immediately reached to catch it, his hands gentle as he draped it over her shoulders. Just dinner. Just dinner with just a friend.
But when they walked down the street to the restaurant, which was just around the corner, and his hand brushed hers she told herself it was alright. And when he slipped his hand protectively over hers she didn't pull away. In the restaurant when Lando and a few others called out to him she hung back, blushing when Logan gently tugged her along to greet his friends.
"Didn't know you had a date tonight, mate," Oscar commented, nodding to her in greeting.
She could have corrected him. Could have announced to everyone that it wasn't a date. But Logan's bashful chuckle warmed her and she smiled. "We American's have to stick together," she said, enjoying Logan's laugh.
"You know, England is an ally," Lando said with a smirk.
"Still haven't forgiven you for taxation without representation," she sighed.
"That wasn't me," Lando defended while the others laughed.
"Your ancestors though," Oscar told him.
"They were doing what they thought was right? How am I at fault now?"
"You opened your mouth," Carlos said with a laugh.
"C'mon, babe, our table's ready," Logan murmured, hand slipping to the small of her back.
"Enjoy your date!" Oscar called after them.
"I hope you trip over your independence!" Lando yelped when Oscar elbowed him.
Laughing, y/n let Logan guide her to the other side of the dining room, where they were thankfully shielded from the table of drivers. He held the chair for her and she thanked him while the waiter handed them the menus.
"I'm sorry about that. Oscar and Lando… I should have told them it wasn't a date," Logan said once they were alone.
"It's fine," she assured him. "I mean, technically, it is a date."
"I guess so. I just don't want you thinking I'm making it out to more than it is."
"What is it?" she asked.
"Two friends, hopefully. Spending time together." He looked up from his menu. "Probably should have taken you somewhere more casual, huh? This place makes it look like I'm trying to impress you."
She hadn't thought of it like that. "…Are you trying to impress me?"
"Do you want me to?"
Their eyes met and she slowly inhaled, thinking over what the best answer would be.
So you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?
Do you want to kiss him?
She exhaled, sending thoughts of Max as far away as possible. "I think I do."
He looked relieved and oh, so handsome in this light. "Then I might be trying to impress you a little."
"You're doing amazing so far."
taglist
@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris | @kravitzwhore | @younxii | @silentreader128 | @samantha-chicago | @mrsbrxkkxr | @cmleitora |
![[all Writings Below The Cut] Talk To Me Here Prompt List Here -----](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0493b3578866b479cc66c4b922e4dc0e/d43fa49d392be178-fe/s500x750/84a0d85787709dc10d4efe9f3162ba05eb10b046.png)
[all writings below the cut] talk to me here prompt list here -----
(+ means smut)
![[all Writings Below The Cut] Talk To Me Here Prompt List Here -----](https://64.media.tumblr.com/923d94af996e5cca563240e7f6d612b4/d43fa49d392be178-64/s500x750/022ce4ffd8616d9517ecd06c7c02da364ad9f4cb.png)
red flags | charles leclerc +
last call | max verstappen
chasing fate | lance stroll blindsided | lance stroll
death of me | carlos sainz +
blurbs & drabbles
![[all Writings Below The Cut] Talk To Me Here Prompt List Here -----](https://64.media.tumblr.com/1c66fcac9abd0c061fb69d7fa027b180/d43fa49d392be178-42/s500x750/7d67db9d7cf884c14ea21f1cd960f236af72cfbd.png)
the better series (7 parts) | pierre gasly, lando norris (triangle) +
6 to 1 series (12 parts) | lando norris x leclerc!reader + lover x 6 to 1 (sequel based off the lover tracklist)
disapproval | mick schumacher x leclerc!reader part 2 hard truths part 3 the good guy
fragile line | daniel ricciardo x driver!reader + part 2 haunted part 3 gone part 4 long live
say don't go | charles leclerc x reader part 2 | now that we don't talk
sky's on fire (work in progress) | pierre gasly, charles leclerc (triangle)
![[all Writings Below The Cut] Talk To Me Here Prompt List Here -----](https://64.media.tumblr.com/c5f0ea716d551e0fcd63e2af909be4a0/d43fa49d392be178-e9/s500x750/30d6052413accfc2252fec0177ed1dd3de3b2d69.png)
pierre gasly
worlds collide | famous!reader x pierre simp | reader x pierre
charles leclerc
soft (dog) launch | korean influencer!reader x charles quarantine | reader x charles not good enough | filipina!reader x charles muse | singer/songwriter!reader x charles the people's princess | princess!reader x charles
mick schumacher
in you i trust | reader x mick
![[all Writings Below The Cut] Talk To Me Here Prompt List Here -----](https://64.media.tumblr.com/fce08d7dc31b4b2a6f95030c0b6472a0/d43fa49d392be178-37/s500x750/df5643aa05dcf10c4ca1ad92d8fdfa2df71bf111.png)
- all social media au's charles leclerc x secret admin daniel ricciardo x secret admin lando norris x secret admin lewis hamilton x secret admin lance stroll x secret admin max verstappen x secret admin
![[all Writings Below The Cut] Talk To Me Here Prompt List Here -----](https://64.media.tumblr.com/777b0af90f025a44dd4a363cfab9a90d/d43fa49d392be178-d5/s500x750/a115097031b0b8783cec9ea393ad91770dc7994f.png)
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A 22 year old girl, fan of stackiemight write some fanfictions (marvel, chicago pd, chicago fire, chicago med), short angsty essays about life, update on my journey towards a better mental and physical heatlh. drop questions! fandom related or just you want to talk to somebody.
299 posts