ishi091 - Untitled
ishi091
Untitled

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ishi091
1 year ago

NEEDY, Niko Omilana

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NEEDY, Niko Omilana

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Summary: Niko was never this impatient. Calling you, texting you to come urgently to his apartment. You've never seen him like this and you wonder how it'd turn out if you stretched the situation by not giving in.

Warnings: gets REALLY heated but no smut bc writing smut is so complicated

A/N: omd my phone broke so this was difficult to write and thats why its RLLY short and terrible. also I was a little uncomfortable writing this even tho I've written smut before + it's not rlly smut just detailed making out. (this is horrible, read on your own risk!)

Humming to your favorite song everytime you had to do work infront of your laptop was the only thing that kept you sane and kept you going without any interruption.

You kept hearing your phone buzzing multiple times, but you chose to ignore it just so you could finish all the work you had to do.

You had to send out emails to clients just like what your boss had ordered for you to do, but the amount of time your phone kept buzzing was starting to get you annoyed.

You still decided to ignore it, that was until you heard your phone ringing. Your eyes that was latched on the laptop across of you was now on the phone that was laid next to you.

You sigh when you realize it's your boyfriend, Niko. You bring the phone to your ears when you answer.

"What is it? I'm still trying to send emails and my manager will kill me if he finds out I haven't sent them yet–"

"Haven't you seen my texts?" His voice was hushed and you could even pinpoint Sharky and Aj talking and laughing in the background.

"No? I didn't know that it was you sending me those messages. What is going on?" You're now worried, confused with why he had to call you since he knew you were busy.

"Well..." His voice trails off, like he was trying to think if it was a good idea to tell you or not.

"Niko just spit it out–"

"I need you here, like right now." You were cut off, a little a taken aback by the fact that he was whispering and sounded too desperate. He always loved your company, but not to the point where he needed you even while you were working.

"Is everything okay? Aren't you supposed to be filming right now?" You question, placing your phone on your shoulder and bringing it up to your ears while typing things on your laptop.

"Well, filming got canceled and they thought it'd be a great idea by coming over at Aj and I's apartment. And I uhm– need you." He clears his throat and sounded even a little embarrassed. You still didn't get the point or the message he was trying to send you.

"You can survive a few hours without me, Niko." You say, half annoyed. You still try to fight the grin that was close to forming on your face.

"No, you don't understand. I feel uncomfortable in those jeans and I need you. I need you to come to my apartment." He sighs in the end, impatient.

You hum when you finally understand what he wants. You bite your lip at his urgency, tempted, but not too tempted where you would give up to him. You wondered how it would turn out if you didn't go to him or accept his request.

"I don't know Niko. Im really busy with all of this. Can't you wait?" You try to hide your laugh, picturing him trying to relieve himself by shifting in any position. You weren't that busy, you could've easily sent the emails and leave.

"Fuck– are you serious?" He sighs. You raise your eyebrows, surpised that he cursed.

"Mhm." You hum, a little extra to get him around the edge.

"y/n, im serious. I need you to come here." He whines. You were a little surprised by how needy he was since usually he was never like this.

"And so am I. Try surviving for a few hours you schmuck." Before he has another word to say, you immediately close the call.

Not even a second later, the phone begins ringing again, a wide smile forming on your face.

You put your phone on silent, nervous, excited to how this would turn out after you finish your work.

This was going to be fun.

The call between you and Niko had slipped your mind. Hours passed by and now you stood infront of the bathroom mirror, applying your daily skincare routine before sleeping. You yawn, ready to tuck yourself in bed.

You were almost fully asleep until you were awoken by the three loud bangs that came from your front door.

You groan since you were really comfortable with your position, hesitantly getting up and walking to the front door.

You unlock the door, not thinking much of it until you were met face to face with your boyfriend. He slowly walks to you and he casts a long glance over your face with his dark gaze.

"Niko." You say surpised, now fully awake and now it felt like you didn't wanna sleep anymore.

His hand caresses your cheek, thumb slowly skimming over your bottom lip as he takes his own between his teeth. Desire builds in the pit of your stomach the longer his burning gaze stares at your mouth, which miraculously have the same hypnotic effect on you despite the usual brown absent from his irises, now it was completely black.

He closes the distance between your yearning mouths and you immediately respond to him, your hands going up to thread through his dark hair.

He pushes you until your back somehow ended up in the counter of your kitchen, leaning above of you, and pressing one hand against the small of your back. You hear plates clattering and pull back from the kiss to see his hand impatiently pushing away the plates to the other side of the counter.

The kiss was heated and needy which made you impossible to think straight. A small whine is emitted from your throat when his mouth leaves yours, as his hand tilts your head back to give him better access to your neck. His hot lips latch onto the exposed skin, sucking harshly with occasional swipes of his tongue to soothe the sensitive, cool skin.

He groans when he hears a satisfied sigh leaving your mouth, knowing that you were actually satisfied. You trail a hand into his hair, lightly fisting the soft locks between your fingers.

"Niko," You sigh, reveling in the feeling of his mouth and glorious tongue working against your skin, as his cold hands slide underneath your top, making you silently gasp.

His hands hook around your thighs and he lifts you up onto the counter. He stands between your legs and you wrap them around his waist, pulling him in closer. Your hands caress the sides of his cheeks and you bring his face back to yours, sealing your lips over his in a hungry kiss.

He let's out breathy whines once you grip his hair to deepen the kiss. His hands wraps around your waist a little aggressively and he pushes himself against you.

He breaks the kiss, his lips still ghosting over yours, "I missed you." He rasps and hums, tracing your jaw and his thumb lingers on your bottom lip. He teasingly runs his lips against yours and claims your mouth in a languid kiss. Niko traces the tip of his tongue over your lips, patiently waiting until you willingly part them for him.

A soft moan is coaxed out of you when his tongue glides over yours, your extremities burning for more. You run your hands up in the back of his neck, your fingers curl into his messy locks. His hand falls from your face, curving over your hip, down your backside and gripping the flesh of your thigh.

"You are driving me crazy. You seriously have no idea," He says out of context and you laugh breathily, flicking his tongue with yours.

His open mouth finding your neck, sucking, biting, and his hot mouth nibbling down to your chest, a rumble sounding in his chest as he reaches the cleavage exposed in the white silky pajamas you were wearing to your bed.

"How was everything? You know– shit– you know your boys and everything." You manage to gasp out, tightening your fist in his dark hair.

He let's out a devious chuckle, lifting your leg with his hold on your thigh and hitching it around his hip. Raising his head, blazing brown eyes meet yours, head cocked.

"It was torture." his teeth graze your neck, your pulse leaping underneath his mouth, emitting a low hum from him.

"And why is that?" You question trying to get a rise out of him since he never really liked going into detail whenever he needs you desperately, breath hitching as he playfully bites down.

"As I said, I really missed you." he replies, kissing up your throat until his mouth seals over yours. His hand flexes around your thigh and you feel his hardness press into yours, your throat, triggering a moan from swallowed by his fervent kiss.

You gasp into his mouth and he hums, grinding into your hips slowly. His intimate touch makes it impossible to form a coherent thought and you groan, breaking the kiss.

Opening your mouths to each other simultaneously, Niko groans deeply, tongue stroking yours. You nudge your thighs apart, pulling him in as close as possible even though the only thing separating the both of you were your clothes. He runs his large hands over your clothed thigh, gripping the flesh of your thighs.

You use his dark brown locks clutched in your fingers to pull his head back, peppering kisses down his throat. His Adam's apple bobs and you slide your tongue over it, hearing his breath catch. "Fuck." He says under his breath, desperate moans falling from his lips.

He breathes through a half moan as you suck hard. He pulls you back up to meet his dark gaze, "How about we take this to my bedroom?" You tilt your head.

"You don't have to sound desperate, schmuck." He replies. You roll your eyes with a smile, Niko smiling and sending you looks that was far from innocent.

And the night ended up with his needs being satisfied.

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ishi091
1 year ago

JEALOUSY, Niko Omilana

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JEALOUSY, Niko Omilana

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Summary: In which your boyfriend Niko Omilana gets visibly upset and jealous at how close you we're being with your work partner, Sharky.

Warnings: does kissing count as a warning?

A/N: lmk if you guys want a part two !

also this isn't checked so excuse me if there's any common mistakes, it was rushed.

You met your boyfriend Niko through Sharky, and you couldn't be more grateful. You had immediately hit it off even though the vibe between you two wasn't the best in the beginning.

No one had thought that you, a complete different aesthetic would hit it off with someone like Niko.

Even Sharky himself could feel his blood boil everytime at the mention of you two together since he was confident that when he introduced you to the beta squad was that no one would come close to you.

It's not like you were a terrible person or anything like that. You were just your own person. A really known person who would show up on youtube to give up your own mindset about dating and how miserable it makes you. You weren't just babbling words for fame or attention, you went through a relationship that made you hate the idea of dating or falling in love.

You always promised to yourself to never date infront of millions of watchers, but of course, it was immediately changed once you had met Niko. He was a fearless individual with a strong personality and that was what drew you in.

You kept your relationship private, until Niko sneaked a kiss on your lips not knowing that there was paparazzi lingering around.

You simply didn't care and never really replied to what the media said, until it started becoming really annoying.

Of course, the internet wouldn't leave you alone, what'd you expect? So the only message that you gave to the world was simply, 'I was wrong about all the things I've said, because not every man that you meet is like the rest.'

But Sharky always felt deeply hurt after it was announced that you and Niko were officially together. It wasn't even Niko's fault, Sharky always kept these feelings locked away for the sake of your happiness with your passion of telling the world about your point of view and experience with falling in love.

If he knew that he couldn't have you now, he'll wait. Even if it was for years. Plus that didn't really stop him from flirting or observing from afar.

Niko would catch the way he looks at you, but of course you being oblivious, all you did was laugh whenever Sharky treated you extra special. You always thought it was because you've been friends way before fame hit for both of you, but you were completely wrong.

Niko would always be furious, but since he really didn't have proof for everything, he decides to keep his mouth shut.

"Today on beta squad, we're doing our very own edition of would i lie to you." Right after Chunkz makes the announcement, everyone including you start cheering in excitement.

Niko snakes an arm around your waist as he laughs in excitement and you turn to look up at him with butterflies swarming in your stomach. No matter how long the relationship you two have been together, you always felt this fuzzy feeling that always hit you and made you dizzy, the same exact warmth she had when she first met Niko.

They had thought it'd be a great idea to invite you for a video, just like how it is all the time. So you easily accepted, being really happy to be around them, especially Niko.

"On team one, on my right hand side, we have Nikolas Omilana, y/n y/l/n, and Sharky!" Niko was a little annoyed that out of all the people sharky had to be on their team, but irregardless, he was going to make sure that Sharky doesn't get too close.

"On my left hand side, we got Yung Filly, Aj shabeel, and King kenny!"

"They're all terrible liars, especially the gyall right there." Filly points at you and you just shrug, knowing that you had a tactic to work with.

"Let's start with this team first." Chunkz points at your team and Sharky was the first to start.

"You can do this." You whisper to Sharky and Niko obviously looking at you, felt his jaw tense.

He couldn't careless if this was Aj, Chunkz, Kenny, or even Filly, because he could clearly tell who liked you in a friendly way and he definitely knew Sharky liked you more than a friend.

"I got circumcised by a random Somali man." Sharky says and immediately everyone started to laugh, including you.

"Yeah, my mom knew at the age of 9." He nods with a straight face.

"So your mom let a random man touch your dick?" Niko who was supposed to be on your team, says to Sharky.

"Ay that's cheating! He's making it obvious that it is a lie." Aj points at Niko.

You nudge Niko playfully with your elbow and give him a look like you were telling him to behave and he just sends you a wholesome grin.

"Just a quick question. Any mandem over here seen his sausage? Or maybe the gyall over the–" Filly questions with a genuine hope that someone did see it, but Kenny immediately slaps the back of his neck to shut him up.

Niko's stomach turned at the statement even though it was clearly a joke, but it made him physically sick. He looks over to you, worried that it made you uncomfortable.

You on the other hand laugh it off for the sake of the video since you knew that's the humor that you had to take whenever you were filming with them, otherwise you being uncomfortable would've been seen as too dramatic among the fans. So, you just send a nod and a smile to Niko.

Chunkz agrees at Filly's question of him being circumcised and everyone let's out 'woo's' and 'ooh's' and he clarifies that it needs to be done because his religion said so for purification.

After a while the other team come into conclusion that it was false. Sharky shakes his in disapproval and shows them the side where it says true, and they all sigh and even let out yells of disapproval.

You on the other hand, wrap your arms around Sharky's shoulders as you both jumped into union and excitement.

Despite the grin on Niko's face, he was pissed. Seeing your cheeks a little flushed and your smile reaching your ears made him question himself. Do you laugh like this with him? Does he make you feel that happy?

All the thoughts swarm in his head and his stomach drops every second at the thoughts coming and he tries to push them off by focusing on it being Filly's turn.

It was currently the last round and both teams were tied. Your team decided to pick you for it since you knew how to get the other team confused. The other team picked Filly since he was the guest. If both teams tie again, you were going to keep going until one team wins.

You sigh deeply and grab your card, "I was expelled in 11th grade because my history teacher accused me of hitting her." You say with a straight face, but once you've seen Filly's face who was currently trying to hold in his laugh, you bite your lip to stiffen in your laughter.

"She's lying innit because she's laughing over there." Filly tells his teammates.

"I'm sorry, im sorry– but I can surely tell you that i am telling you the truth." You genuinely say but Aj was shaking his head as he was narrowing his eyes at you.

Kenny squints his eyes at you, "Tell us the story of what happened."

"So basically, I used to speak a lot during sessions and no matter how many times she's told me to shut up, yeah? I never did shut up and uh," You pause for second, trying to remember what had happened.

"She paused, she's thinking about how to fake the story." Kenny says and everyone yells as if they've caught the fact that you were 'faking' it.

"Ay, leave her alone. Let her continue." Sharky responds to them. Niko sends an annoyed look at Sharky, not caring if the camera caught it.

"Anyway, she was really mean for no reason and only had one way to expel me, and that is to lie. And let me just tell you something, yeah? She had to cry infront of the school administration to convince them that I did hit her. There's not much to say since the statement is direct and has no other explanation, but she hated the entire class and especially me." You explain and the opposed team starts laughing.

"Ay, she's good at waffling, but definitely a terrible liar." Aj speaks to the camera.

Niko began laughing at how your face was flushed in embarrassment, "Cold, cold. How do you feel being laughed at, baby?" He whispers in your ears but makes sure that everyone hears and rests his hand on your hips and makes sure his eyes meets Sharky who was already looking at him. You bite your bottom lip at how he presses his front against your back, forgetting for a moment that the camera was on.

"Take your hands off of her, Omilana. Not infront of the pizza shaped kid right across of you and the possibility of thousands of kids watching you." The host, Chunkz, warns Niko and he raises his hands up in surrender but sends you a glance that was far from innocent, and he tries to make sure that Sharky was looking at the entire interaction.

"Is that it?" Aj questions and you just simply nod.

"Bruva I can't lie, I have a deep feeling that she's told all of us this story before." Kenny says and you try not to wince, because you did indeed tell them before when you all hung out.

You just keep your straight face on at his statement, but inside, you could feel yourself screaming. You always took these challenges seriously.

"I'm not convinced that such teacher would do that." Filly shakes his head and you notice Aj nodding at his words. You internally beg that they would make it a lie.

They whisper to each other until Kenny grabs the stick that had lie and true, "We all think it's a lie." they come into conclusion and you could feel yourself grin.

"Alright, y/n, go ahead and reveal your answer." Chunkz announces loudly.

"It is..."

You show the side of the one that says 'true', "The truth!" You began laughing at their reaction, too lost to even notice the way Niko was looking at you.

He admired the way you were grinning from ear to ear and the way your cheeks were flushed and two strands of your hair on each side were laying on your face. What made him furious is the fact that Sharky was doing the exact same thing, admiring and taking in each feature of your face.

You pull both Niko and Sharky into a side hug as you jumped in excitement, "We could win this!" You say in joy.

"That's impossible! How could a teacher do that? Can't she get fired for that?" Aj yells, surprised.

"Maybe because she lied and she's the teacher which they would believe over the student, idiot." Kenny replies with a bland tone which erupted everyone's laugh.

"That is mad." Filly shakes his head.

You nod at Filly, "Go on."

"I once got locked in a car for two days." He states and you immediately grip Sharky's arm to contain your laughter since he was closer to you.

Niko just stares angrily at how touchy you were being this entire video. Hugging Sharky whenever you got something right or he did, constantly gripping his arms each time you wanted to laugh.

"That's impossible, ain't it?" You question.

"Just tell them the story, Filly." Chunkz says teasingly, clearly enjoying this.

"So uhm– so uh yeah. So–" He stutters.

"We caught him, we caught him!" Sharky says so loud that you laugh and shake your head.

"Let him speak you schmuck." Niko says a little aggressive, but no one picks up on it except for Sharky.

"I was around 7 and we had just got back from my first day of school and my mom took her groceries up to our house and left me in the car."

You couldn't take it seriously as you began laughing, "So you were in the car for two days? And she didn't drive you to school the next day?" You question, and everyone on your team and Chunkz let's out an 'ooooh' since you've picked up on something.

"We already know our choice. It's a lie." Sharky holds up the stick and Filly sighs.

"I'm sorry I did you both wrong, but yes, it is a lie." He says to both Kenny and Aj, disappointed.

Immediately on your left hand you felt someone pick you up for the victory, Sharky. He spinned you even though you feel a little uncomfortable about it, but you shrug it off.

Once he puts you down you turn to Niko and throw your arms around his neck and plant kisses all across his neck where camera can't see you doing this gesture. For some reason you could sense something off since you didn't feel the energy being returned. You just guessed that he was probably a little exhausted or tired.

"This confirms that this team had just won, congratulations to team one!" The host announces and the other team attacks each other and started blaming the other on why they lost.

"There's one important message that Filly and y/n have to say." Chunkz says a bit too serious.

You walk next to Filly and in union, you both say, "Play the trailer." The rest cheer and the camera was now off, everyone leaving to do their thing.

You run to Niko since his presence was the only thing that mattered to you. You see the way he was on his phone, not acknowledging your presence like he always does whenever you filmed with them.

You didn't think much of it and you wrap one of your hands around his neck, tiptoe–ing since he was tall. He always goes down a little for you, but for some weird reason, he doesn't.

You still reach to him after you struggle and your mouth finds his and you hear him let out a sharp sigh and his phone shutting off once your lips meets his. He places his phone inside his pocket and one hand wraps the front of you neck and the other grips your hip to deepen the kiss.

He kisses you like he's been longing to do so, but as if something comes into his senses, he takes his lips off of you and wipes his lips.

You're very confused by the action, but you immediately felt like there was somewhere to be, "I'll go to the lavatory and meet you outside." He just let's out a hum as his eyes were deeply focused on something in his phone.

You just chose to ignore it, not having anytime to start this since you both had somewhere special to be tonight. You and Niko don't live in the same apartment since you live with your best friend and so does he, so you barely find time to spend time together. You both had an idea of going out for dinner and just spending quality time for fun.

Before you took another step you see Sharky in the corner of your eye, coming to talk to you. Not wanting to be rude, you stood and waited until he made his way to you.

"Great game, they fans are going to love you even more for this." He smiles at you and you chuckle, flattered at this compliment.

"I'm so glad I had a chance to spend time with all of you." You send an appreciative friendly smile, but in Niko's eyes who was watching the entire interaction, was now sure it was far from friendly.

After that he definitely knew that he wasn't overlooking this. He had a huge feeling that you felt the same towards Sharky, and that just made him upset and furious.

So he gets up and walks up to the rest except Sharky to say his goodbyes and he leaves you all alone.

You hum to a song that came in your mind as you wash your hands thoroughly, drying them with tissues you had in your bag.

You get out with the widest smile, just for it to disappear when you see that Niko wasn't in the place where he was seated in the last time.

Confused, you walk to the rest of the boys who were all talking together about a conversation you weren't interested in, "Have you guys seen where Niko is?"

"Oh y/n you're still here? And what what do you mean by where Niko is? We thought you left with him?" Chunkz says, genuinely confused and even a little worried.

You furrow your eyebrows, "What? Left with him? No– I was in the lavatory for 10 minutes and now he's gone."

"This pussio just lied to us." Aj remarks jokingly, but there was a bit of a tone that indicated he was pissed that his best friend would do that.

"If this is a prank then seriously I have no time for this." You say with a bland tone and a fake smile, crossing your arms.

"Wallahi he left. He told us you were waiting in the car and that he had to leave." Chunkz was now completely confused on why Niko would abandon you, his girlfriend. Your fake smile immediately dropped.

You raise your eyebrows, surprised that Niko would even think of doing that. "Are you serious right now?" You said it more like a statement instead of a question since you knew that Chunkz was indeed telling the truth. Everyone's eyes are wide at the fact that Niko had just left you like that. You were also shocked.

You slightly scoff at how disrespected you just felt at the moment. You even felt embarrassed since you had no idea how you were going to get to your apartment or even get to him.

"I could drive you home if you'd like?" You hear Sharky offer.

"No I don't wanna tire you. Aj you live with him right? Can you drive me there or are you staying here for a while?" Your voice wavers as you speak, but you tried to keep a stern face.

Aj looks at you concerned and so does the rest, "That's so low, even for Niko." Filly remarks and unexpectedly he gets up and hugs you, almost squeezing you almost to death.

You hear the rest laugh at how soft Filly was, "Ay you crushing the poor gyall!" Chunkz remarks but that doesn't stop him from joining in the hug aswell.

"Jokes aside though, you good y/n?" Kenny asks with a genuine hope that you were truly fine.

You nod and chuckle, "Mhm, I'm fine. I can assure you that I'm completely fine." But deep down, you knew you weren't.

"I'm sorry y/n, I would love to do anything for you but i have to finish something up. If that's okay, you could stay for a little and I could drive you?" Aj asks with a little suggestive tone and everyone was practically begging you to stay with how they looked at you.

"As much as I don't wanna miss out on the opportunity to spend more time with you guys, I really want answers from Niko–"

"So does that mean I could drive you?" Sharky immediately speaks and you roll your eyes and nod with a chuckle.

"Alright let's go."

Sharky offered to stay at his car and wait for you and you say that it was alright if you could get a cab as a way to your apartment but he kept on insisting and you couldn't say no.

Now you could feel the anger rising as you walked to his apartment, entering the apartment with your spare key, angry with how Niko had just left you there. How did he even dare to do such thing?

When you storm towards the living room, you see Niko laid out on the couch, doing some work on his laptop.

"Seriously? You left me there? Did you forget about me?" You speak so loud you were sure that the neighbors might've heard, but you couldn't careless. You just wanted an apology in any sort of way.

He lazily shrugs and keeps his eye on the screen, and you could pinpoint the anger from the way he clenched his jaw at your voice.

You could feel your heart shatter at his action because he's never been like this. "Niko what–" You take a pause since you could feel the tears almost appearing from the way your voice cracked, and you most definitely didn't want to let him see you cry.

Once he's heard the voice crack, he immediately looks up with a hint of worry in his eyes, but it quickly disappears once he's seen that you weren't crying, immediately looking back down.

"What is this? What are you doing? Why are you acting like this? " The last sentence clearly sounded desperate.

When you didn't receive an answer, you shut the laptop aggressively and take it from him, setting it aside.

"I want to have a real conversation. Not a one sided one." You say, silently pleading for him to look at you or say anything. But he doesn't even acknowledge you, he just looks at the floor with a clenched jaw.

"Niko, you're hurting me. Where is all of this coming from? Look at me or just say anything, please." You could feel your heart beating rapidly at his silence treatment, not wanting this relationship to go any wrong. Words spilled out from your mouth like it was nothing, it was as if your heart longed for any response and therefore it formed the words automatically.

He scoffs disrespectfully at you, despite the way his heart hurt at the mention of you telling him that he was hurting you, "Sharky."

"What? Sharky? What about him?" You immediately respond, clinging on to whatever words he was going to say.

Truth to be told, you couldn't bare the thought of him leaving you. You were attached and in love with him to say the least.

"I really don't get how you can't see how he's basically flirting with you 24/7. I'm tired of it, and im extremely tired of you acting like you can't see it either. My girlfriend's surely not an idiot, is she?" His last sentence seemed a bit harsh, by the way he winced and cringed at his own words.

His eyes finally met yours and you could pinpoint the change in them. There was no warmth in them or the love he had for you like he always had whenever he looked at you, and you could confirm that you could feel the anxiety and fear kicking in.

"No, no, no. Sharky– Sharky will always be my friend. He does not like me and I assure you that I don't like him either." You say with your voice wavering and you shake your head as speak.

You grab Niko's hand, desperately trying to send him the message. What made it even worse, is the cold look he sent you. It seemed as if he was bored of this conversation and that he didn't want to even speak or continue.

He chuckles coldly at you, "You look really pathetic trying to convince me that theres nothing seriously going on between you and Sharky."

Your eyebrows furrow deeply and your mouth is slightly open at his words that stung you, "Because there's isn't anything going on." You say aggressively, feeling like you were talking to a crackhead who couldn't get his thoughts straight.

He rolls his eyes and slightly chuckles in a mocking manner, "Never knew that my own girlfriend is pathetic at thinking I wouldn't catch on."

Your mouth is open slightly at his harsh words that just kept coming more and more," What are you saying? I would never do such thing. Niko please–" He takes his hands off of yours and gets up from where he was seated.

He seems to be going to his bedroom, but before you could even go in to try and convince him, bam. The door was shut right infront of your face.

You were a taken aback by this, confusion and mostly hurt that he'd think of you doing something like that. You could feel your cheeks becoming stung by tears, looking around the shared apartment.

"Niko, I swear to God if you don't come out and apologize. We're over." Your voice was louder than you had thought, dead silence at the other side of the door. You let out a frustrated cry at his stubbornness when he doesn't get out.

Now tears fell like they've been held in for too long and You knew Aj was probably on his way so it was probably better if you just left, even though each step you took towards the door completely hurt you.

The plans you had for tonight with him was spending time with him just dining out and continuing the rest of the night in his room for since you both had been busy for weeks.

But now the only thing you were looking forward was how you were going to move on after this. Was it just confirmed that the both of you were done for?

You didn't understand what he was trying to do, it was as if he was trying to find an excuse to just leave you heartbroken and miserable.

You open the door a little too quick, while you walk faster by each second that passed by.

It was getting hard to breath. Your cries were heard through the halls, your brain telling you to suck it in. Your crying was getting loud as you felt a panic attack was close, you didn't feel good at all.

Your hand made its way to your mouth to stop yourself from crying even louder, the other pushing the elevator button.

Come run after me, Niko. Please come I really need you. You silently beg inside your head. You wait for the elevator, tears still finding its way out.

But you knew he wasn't going to come, it was his plan all along to push you away, at least that's what you had thought. You just needed to leave, you felt like the walls were starting to close on you.

And now the world was going to see you as the pathetic, stupid, 'y/n y/l/n who thought she could ever have a healthy relationship.'

—————————————

ishi091
1 year ago

give you my wild, give you a child

note: it's been so long since i've posted anything, missing posting and you guys, so here it is a charles fic 🎀🫶 word count: 1,3 k

Give You My Wild, Give You A Child
Give You My Wild, Give You A Child
Give You My Wild, Give You A Child

You stared at the test in front of you. Two lines. This is it. You were pregnant, you were going to have a baby, with charles. The adrenaline of the situation got to you and you started crying. Your heard immediately thought ‘hormones’ following by a thought of the amount of times you were going to be able to use that excuse. You laughed at that, but also laughed of happiness, your hand coming to rest on your stomach as you looked down.

“hi baby” you whispered ever so gently.

You wanted to tell charles, you wished he was here, next to you, but he wasn’t, he was in Italy. This weekend was going to be special for charles, it was monza, everyone knew how much monza meant to Ferrari. You though about calling him but decided against it, after all, it could affect his racing or his focus and that was the last thing you wanted.

Keeping it a secret from him was harder than you expected, every time he’d call, you had to bite your tongue not to say it. You had decided you were going to plan something special, not telling him over the phone.

-

You sat on your couch watching the race, on the edge of your seat, charles had managed to snatch P2 yesterday and you were so proud of him, but you knew he wanted more. Luckily for him, the monza curse struck again and Verstappen had to retire the race, leaving your boyfriend in P1.

You didn’t want to get very excited because it was Ferrari, a simple strategy mistake and charles could loose the highest place on the podium, but he didn’t. you watched proudly as you boyfriend lifted his champagne bottle, spraying all the tifosi there watching him.

-

You had tried to stay awake till he got home, but sleep got the best of you, because when you woke up, you were no longer in your couch, wrapped around your blanket, you were in bed, charles arm wrapped around your waist, his hand stroking you back and his eyes glued to yours.

“good morning, mon ange” he whispered and you swore you felt butterflies in your tummy, you wondered if the baby feels it too, or something like that.

“good morning, I’m so proud of you, like bursting out of pride” you kissed him fearlessly, pouring out every bit of your love for him

“wow, if you’re like this when I win, then I should win more often” he joked “did you watch me?”

“of course I did, you were so great” you placed your hand on your stomach but quickly realized your mistake and placed it on his cheek

He kissed you again before he quickly sat up “I am making YOU breakfast” he brushed your leg softly and disappeared down the hallway.

After eating breakfast, you were going to finally tell him, but he had other ideas “I’m gonna shower, I didn’t do it last night because you were asleep, but I smell like champagne” he gave you a peck on your lips and left without saying another word.

-

You heard the shower stop as you sat anxiously on the bed, a small box next to you. He finally came out of the shower and you couldn’t help but eye him up and down, I mean, the guy looked like a Greek god, water still dripping and his chest fully exposed with a towel hanging around his hips

“oh, I didn’t know you were here” he leaned down to kiss the top of your head “are you ok? What is that?” he pointed to the box

“sit” you said seriously and he chuckled gently before realizing your tone was serious and sitting down, his face immediately dropping

“are you ok?” he grabbed your hands and gave them a tight squeeze “please talk to me”

“I have something for you” you handed him the box, and watched closely his reaction while opening it

Inside, he found a small Ferrari onesie with the name Leclerc on the back. You hoped for any kind of reaction, anything really, but he only smiled at you.

“aw, you bought something for Chiara? It’s cute but I think it’s a bit too small for her” he said and you were a bit incredulous how he didn’t got it but still managed to pull a laugh at his assumption that it was for his best friend’s baby.

That was the thing with charles though, no matter how scared or nervous you were, he always found a way to make you laugh, and you loved it.

“the thing is.. this is not for Chiara” you placed his hand on your stomach and a tear escaped your eyes

“wait.. really?” he asked, his eyes getting full of tears now “like, really?” those were the only words coming out of his mouth and honestly you couldn’t judge because you couldn’t say anything, you could only nod at him

Next thing you know, charles was pulling you in for a kiss, one that left you breathless. He picked you up and spun you around, pulling you up so your legs wrapped around him. Both of your hands came to his face and cleaned the few tears that laid on his cheeks and he mimicked your movements by kissing every inch of your cheeks til there was no tears

“Are you sure?” he asked and you climbed out of his arms to show him the test you had in your bag

“pretty sure” you both stayed still for a moment, this was going to happen, you and charles were going to be parents. As you both started to realize this, you couldn’t help but wonder how you had gotten so lucky in life. “Are you happy?”

He took a few steps in your direction and pulled you in close to him, close enough that you could feel in breath on you “of course I am, you make me the happiest, I love you so much, mon amour, and I promise, I will be the best father”

“I know” you whispered, only loud enough so he could hear.

“no, I mean it, I’m gonna be the best, I’ll always be there and I’ll never, EVER, gonna let anything happen to the two of you, ever, you’re my world” he walked with you so your back fell into the mattress, his fingers playing with the hem of your (his) shirt, lifting it up enough so that he could see your belly, reaching to touch it, kneeling in front of you, his lips connecting with your stomach, whispering something to the baby, something you couldn’t even hear yourself. You immediately started crying when you saw him shed a tear, him immediately rising up to his feet, his hands on your shoulders “why are you crying? Are you okay, mon ange?”

“Yes, yes, I just… I was so scared of how you were going to react and… you know” you moved your hands around, stopping when he started laughing. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’re adorable, and I love you too much” you simply smiled and let him kiss you, for a second there you forgot he was still in a towel and just realized how gorgeous and hot the man in front of you was, you must have been staring because you noticed him smirking at you, kissing you, letting his hands wonder around you, but you couldn’t help but notice how he was being a little more careful with you, too careful.

“what are you doing?” you pulled back

“kissing you…I’m sorry, did I misread the signs?”

“no, I want this” you point up and down at him “but I don’t want you to hold back”

“I’m sorry, I’m just scared to hurt you or the baby” you smiled fondly at him and kissed his jaw

“that’s cute, but I want you, and I don’t want you told back, please”

“I won’t, then” he picked you up, his towel dropping when he got the both of you in the bedroom. You didn’t know why you were so scared, this was charles, it was always going to be okay”

ishi091
1 year ago

use me (mv1)

Use Me (mv1)

max x reader

summary: max needs a way to take his frustrations out, you offer yourself to him

notes: !! contains smut minors dni !! i have other stories in the works but as a max girlie this took precedent, it had to be done after watching the singapore quali

You were on the edge of your seat watching the remaining 15 cars zoom around the track. Both the Red Bulls had been having issues during the weekend, not driving as fast as they had been in previous races.

You watched as your boyfriend, the reining world champion, made his final lap in Q2, scoring fairly low, and just falling further down the list as other drivers crossed the line. Liam Lawson of all people was the one to push Max down to 11th. You had to admit the kid was talented, but you knew Max was going to be very unhappy with the results.

You knew you were right when you saw Max get out of his car before they had even pulled it into his garage. He stormed away, pulling his helmet off his head as someone practically had to chase after him.

“He’s going to be pleasant.” A voice pulled your attention away from the scene in front of you.

Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his headset now resting around his neck.

“He’ll be fine.” You tell him, however you know just how explosive Max can get when he doesn’t do well.

“You should go see him, calm him down. He won’t kill you.”

You snort. “Right.”

“Think you can calm him down in the next 30 minutes?” He asks.

“I can try.” You stand up to start heading in the direction Max walked off in.

You find him sitting in a corner, drinking from his water bottle, his eyes trained on the ground ahead of him.

You stand next to him and run a hand through his hair. While he would usually lean into you, craving more of your touch, he doesn’t react now, unmoving from his current position.

“How are you?” You ask, in an attempt to tread safely.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m great, how are you?” He doesn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone.

You tilt his chin up so that he’s looking you in the eyes. You can practically see the anger swimming around in the blue eyes you fell in love with.

“You know the press are going to eat you alive if you walk in with that attitude.” You tell him.

He rolls his eyes, and looks back down ahead of him. “They’ll be cheering, dancing on my grave.”

You glance down at your watch. 25 minutes until Max will be needed for press. 25 minutes to bring back your happy Max.

“C’mon.” You take his hand, and slowly pull him up.

“Where are we going?” He asks, following you.

You lead him back to Red Bull hospitality, taking him up to his driver’s room. It’s small, a massage table sits in the corner, a shelf against the wall with more race suits and fireproofs.

“You need to get your anger out before you go do press.” You tell him as you lock the door.

“What, do you want me to throw things around the room?” He asks with his hands on his hips.

“I want you to fuck me.” You tell him, your voice completely serious.

He looks shocked for a moment. The two of you were always pretty private in your relationship, never showing too much PDA, and never having sex anywhere outside of your home. His shock soon dissipates, and turns into thoughtfulness, as if he’s thinking about the risk versus the reward.

You walk towards him in the center of the room. Your hands lift to his shoulders, softly massaging them before your arms wrap around his neck. You lean your head towards his, softly nudging your nose against his. He already looks like he’s losing his self control, his eyes watch your lips as you whisper to him.

“Use me, Max.”

He dives down to kiss you, his lips firm against yours. There’s no asking for permission for his tongue to enter your mouth, it pushes past your lips and tangles with yours.

You grip onto his hair as he hoists you up on the massage table. He stands between your legs, trailing his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of teeth marks on any skin he can find.

He tugs your shirt and bra off, flinging them to some corner of the room, desperate to have access to more of you. He travels down your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples, teeth softly biting at it while his fingers find the other, pinching at it. After he’s satisfied he switches to the other, continuing his work.

Your pants and underwear are the next to come off as Max trails his fingers along your center. He smirks when he feels your hips move to meet his hand.

He pulls a whimper from you when his thumb brushes against your clit. He kneels down, pulling you to the edge of the table and lifting your legs over his shoulders. His hands press down on your abdomen to keep you still as his tongue laps over you.

His nose brushes against your clit, send a jolt to your hips. His hands press down harder on you as his eyes look up to meet yours. They’re a stormy blue now, his pupils enlarged and eyelids hooded.

“Stay still.” He says, his voice low and rough.

His tongue is quick to continue prodding against you, slowly pushing inside you as you let you a long moan. One of your hands flies to his hair, tangling itself in his light brown locks, as your other keeps yourself propped up.

Your taste is sweet, one of his favorite flavors really.

“You taste so good mijn liefje.” He softly moans against you as he eats you out, his nose now bumping your clit over and over until you cry out his name, cumming on his tongue.

This only encourages him, as he takes everything you give him. Your body is tired, exhausted from keeping yourself upright, ready to collapse on the table.

Max stands up and it’s only then you realize that he’s still in his clothes, his race suit still hanging off his hips, while you’re completely bare in front of him.

“I’m not finished with you yet schat.” He shakes his head as he pulls you upright to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on him, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when he’s kissing you the way he is. It’s all tongue and teeth and it’s messy, but still so good.

He pulls you off the table, your legs slightly wobbling beneath you. You’re surprised when he turns you around, keeping your body trapped between his and the table. You hear his clothes move around some more, the thick fabric of his race suit rustling around, then you feel him softly kick your ankle with his leg.

You spread your legs for him, wide enough to allow him room, but still close enough that you can stand comfortably.

He reaches a hand around you to feel between your legs.

“Think you’re wet enough to take me?” He asks. Max has always been a caring lover, even in his dominant moods he still checks in with you.

“Yes Max, please fuck me.” You lean forward against the table and push your ass back against him. You can feel his cock press against you as he grabs onto your hips.

He fists himself a few times before lining himself up with you then pushing in.

The stretch is a lot but feels so good. Max stills for a moment, leaning down to press a kiss against the flushed skin on your back.

His sweet demeanor quickly turns back to his dominant one though, slowly pulling out, then giving a harsh thrust back into you. You try to grip onto the table for dear life as Max pounds into you from behind.

Your moans aren’t quiet, yet neither are his grunts. The door being the only thing blocking you from the rest of the Red Bull team is the farthest thing in your minds at the moment.

He wraps an arm around your middle pulling you up so that your back is pressed against his chest. He’s still wearing his fireproofs, only having pulled the pants down far enough so that he’d be able to bury himself inside you.

The new angle causes him to sink even deeper in you. You feel so full, so consumed by Max.

He grins when he feels you clench around him. His right hand travels over your body, squeezing your breasts before stopping over your neck. He wraps his hand around it, putting a slight pressure on it as his other drops back down to where the two of you meet. He finds your clit, and rubs quick harsh circles into it.

He lets out a low laugh as you clamp down even tighter around him. He leans his head down, his lips brushing against your ear as he teases you. “You like that? Does that feel good?”

Your mind is so clouded over that you can only moan in response.

“Oh, you can’t use your words? You’re just dumb for my cock huh? It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.” He bites down on your neck, sucking a dark hickey onto it. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me again?”

You nod your head, feeling something tighten in your core for the second time tonight.

It only takes a few more rough thrusts before he’s got you cumming again, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer.

The hand on your clit moves to your hip so that he can control his movements. His release follows as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic. You feel his warm cum fill you up as he holds himself inside you. He keeps himself there as you both come down from your highs. He softly presses kisses to your back as you catch your breath.

You hiss when he slowly pulls himself out. His hand falls away from your neck as he uses both to make sure you don’t collapse to the floor. He turns you back around and lifts you back up onto the table.

He finds a towel and spreads your legs to help clean you up. The sight in front of him causes his cock to stir with interest again, his cum is seeping out of you, trailing down your thighs. Your skin shines with the layer of sweat that’s coated your body. Your chest rises and falls with every deep breath you take. Your neck has several marks along it, fresh hickeys to show what you’ve been up to.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, throwing the towel away to a corner of the room.

You give him a lazy smile. “Not at all. I really enjoyed that.”

“I love you.” He says, helping you back down from the table.

“I love you too.”

You’re both quiet at you get dressed again. You still feel a little wobbly on your feet, but are beginning to regain your balance.

“So do you think you can handle the press without chewing anyone’s head off?” You ask him as you both head to the door.

“Oh definitely.” He grins.

He wraps an arm around your waist as you leave his driver’s room and head back to the main area of the paddock.

Max gives you a quick kiss before he separates from you to do his post qualifying interviews, leaving you with the rest of the team.

When Christian spots you he sighs. “Y/n… no…” he says as he looks at the marks along your neck and the way your legs shake if you stand in one spot for too long.

You shrug. “What? You told me to calm him down.”

Needless to say everyone was surprised when Max was calm cool and collected during his interviews.

ishi091
1 year ago

use me (mv1)

Use Me (mv1)

max x reader

summary: max needs a way to take his frustrations out, you offer yourself to him

notes: !! contains smut minors dni !! i have other stories in the works but as a max girlie this took precedent, it had to be done after watching the singapore quali

You were on the edge of your seat watching the remaining 15 cars zoom around the track. Both the Red Bulls had been having issues during the weekend, not driving as fast as they had been in previous races.

You watched as your boyfriend, the reining world champion, made his final lap in Q2, scoring fairly low, and just falling further down the list as other drivers crossed the line. Liam Lawson of all people was the one to push Max down to 11th. You had to admit the kid was talented, but you knew Max was going to be very unhappy with the results.

You knew you were right when you saw Max get out of his car before they had even pulled it into his garage. He stormed away, pulling his helmet off his head as someone practically had to chase after him.

“He’s going to be pleasant.” A voice pulled your attention away from the scene in front of you.

Christian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his headset now resting around his neck.

“He’ll be fine.” You tell him, however you know just how explosive Max can get when he doesn’t do well.

“You should go see him, calm him down. He won’t kill you.”

You snort. “Right.”

“Think you can calm him down in the next 30 minutes?” He asks.

“I can try.” You stand up to start heading in the direction Max walked off in.

You find him sitting in a corner, drinking from his water bottle, his eyes trained on the ground ahead of him.

You stand next to him and run a hand through his hair. While he would usually lean into you, craving more of your touch, he doesn’t react now, unmoving from his current position.

“How are you?” You ask, in an attempt to tread safely.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I’m great, how are you?” He doesn’t hide the sarcasm in his tone.

You tilt his chin up so that he’s looking you in the eyes. You can practically see the anger swimming around in the blue eyes you fell in love with.

“You know the press are going to eat you alive if you walk in with that attitude.” You tell him.

He rolls his eyes, and looks back down ahead of him. “They’ll be cheering, dancing on my grave.”

You glance down at your watch. 25 minutes until Max will be needed for press. 25 minutes to bring back your happy Max.

“C’mon.” You take his hand, and slowly pull him up.

“Where are we going?” He asks, following you.

You lead him back to Red Bull hospitality, taking him up to his driver’s room. It’s small, a massage table sits in the corner, a shelf against the wall with more race suits and fireproofs.

“You need to get your anger out before you go do press.” You tell him as you lock the door.

“What, do you want me to throw things around the room?” He asks with his hands on his hips.

“I want you to fuck me.” You tell him, your voice completely serious.

He looks shocked for a moment. The two of you were always pretty private in your relationship, never showing too much PDA, and never having sex anywhere outside of your home. His shock soon dissipates, and turns into thoughtfulness, as if he’s thinking about the risk versus the reward.

You walk towards him in the center of the room. Your hands lift to his shoulders, softly massaging them before your arms wrap around his neck. You lean your head towards his, softly nudging your nose against his. He already looks like he’s losing his self control, his eyes watch your lips as you whisper to him.

“Use me, Max.”

He dives down to kiss you, his lips firm against yours. There’s no asking for permission for his tongue to enter your mouth, it pushes past your lips and tangles with yours.

You grip onto his hair as he hoists you up on the massage table. He stands between your legs, trailing his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of teeth marks on any skin he can find.

He tugs your shirt and bra off, flinging them to some corner of the room, desperate to have access to more of you. He travels down your chest, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples, teeth softly biting at it while his fingers find the other, pinching at it. After he’s satisfied he switches to the other, continuing his work.

Your pants and underwear are the next to come off as Max trails his fingers along your center. He smirks when he feels your hips move to meet his hand.

He pulls a whimper from you when his thumb brushes against your clit. He kneels down, pulling you to the edge of the table and lifting your legs over his shoulders. His hands press down on your abdomen to keep you still as his tongue laps over you.

His nose brushes against your clit, send a jolt to your hips. His hands press down harder on you as his eyes look up to meet yours. They’re a stormy blue now, his pupils enlarged and eyelids hooded.

“Stay still.” He says, his voice low and rough.

His tongue is quick to continue prodding against you, slowly pushing inside you as you let you a long moan. One of your hands flies to his hair, tangling itself in his light brown locks, as your other keeps yourself propped up.

Your taste is sweet, one of his favorite flavors really.

“You taste so good mijn liefje.” He softly moans against you as he eats you out, his nose now bumping your clit over and over until you cry out his name, cumming on his tongue.

This only encourages him, as he takes everything you give him. Your body is tired, exhausted from keeping yourself upright, ready to collapse on the table.

Max stands up and it’s only then you realize that he’s still in his clothes, his race suit still hanging off his hips, while you’re completely bare in front of him.

“I’m not finished with you yet schat.” He shakes his head as he pulls you upright to kiss you.

You can taste yourself on him, but it doesn’t matter to you, not when he’s kissing you the way he is. It’s all tongue and teeth and it’s messy, but still so good.

He pulls you off the table, your legs slightly wobbling beneath you. You’re surprised when he turns you around, keeping your body trapped between his and the table. You hear his clothes move around some more, the thick fabric of his race suit rustling around, then you feel him softly kick your ankle with his leg.

You spread your legs for him, wide enough to allow him room, but still close enough that you can stand comfortably.

He reaches a hand around you to feel between your legs.

“Think you’re wet enough to take me?” He asks. Max has always been a caring lover, even in his dominant moods he still checks in with you.

“Yes Max, please fuck me.” You lean forward against the table and push your ass back against him. You can feel his cock press against you as he grabs onto your hips.

He fists himself a few times before lining himself up with you then pushing in.

The stretch is a lot but feels so good. Max stills for a moment, leaning down to press a kiss against the flushed skin on your back.

His sweet demeanor quickly turns back to his dominant one though, slowly pulling out, then giving a harsh thrust back into you. You try to grip onto the table for dear life as Max pounds into you from behind.

Your moans aren’t quiet, yet neither are his grunts. The door being the only thing blocking you from the rest of the Red Bull team is the farthest thing in your minds at the moment.

He wraps an arm around your middle pulling you up so that your back is pressed against his chest. He’s still wearing his fireproofs, only having pulled the pants down far enough so that he’d be able to bury himself inside you.

The new angle causes him to sink even deeper in you. You feel so full, so consumed by Max.

He grins when he feels you clench around him. His right hand travels over your body, squeezing your breasts before stopping over your neck. He wraps his hand around it, putting a slight pressure on it as his other drops back down to where the two of you meet. He finds your clit, and rubs quick harsh circles into it.

He lets out a low laugh as you clamp down even tighter around him. He leans his head down, his lips brushing against your ear as he teases you. “You like that? Does that feel good?”

Your mind is so clouded over that you can only moan in response.

“Oh, you can’t use your words? You’re just dumb for my cock huh? It’s a good thing you’re so pretty.” He bites down on your neck, sucking a dark hickey onto it. “Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me again?”

You nod your head, feeling something tighten in your core for the second time tonight.

It only takes a few more rough thrusts before he’s got you cumming again, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer.

The hand on your clit moves to your hip so that he can control his movements. His release follows as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic. You feel his warm cum fill you up as he holds himself inside you. He keeps himself there as you both come down from your highs. He softly presses kisses to your back as you catch your breath.

You hiss when he slowly pulls himself out. His hand falls away from your neck as he uses both to make sure you don’t collapse to the floor. He turns you back around and lifts you back up onto the table.

He finds a towel and spreads your legs to help clean you up. The sight in front of him causes his cock to stir with interest again, his cum is seeping out of you, trailing down your thighs. Your skin shines with the layer of sweat that’s coated your body. Your chest rises and falls with every deep breath you take. Your neck has several marks along it, fresh hickeys to show what you’ve been up to.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He asks, throwing the towel away to a corner of the room.

You give him a lazy smile. “Not at all. I really enjoyed that.”

“I love you.” He says, helping you back down from the table.

“I love you too.”

You’re both quiet at you get dressed again. You still feel a little wobbly on your feet, but are beginning to regain your balance.

“So do you think you can handle the press without chewing anyone’s head off?” You ask him as you both head to the door.

“Oh definitely.” He grins.

He wraps an arm around your waist as you leave his driver’s room and head back to the main area of the paddock.

Max gives you a quick kiss before he separates from you to do his post qualifying interviews, leaving you with the rest of the team.

When Christian spots you he sighs. “Y/n… no…” he says as he looks at the marks along your neck and the way your legs shake if you stand in one spot for too long.

You shrug. “What? You told me to calm him down.”

Needless to say everyone was surprised when Max was calm cool and collected during his interviews.

ishi091
1 year ago
ANGELIC: CARLOS SAINZ | SITUATIONSHIP && I Dont Wanna Be Your Friend.
ANGELIC: CARLOS SAINZ | SITUATIONSHIP && I Dont Wanna Be Your Friend.
ANGELIC: CARLOS SAINZ | SITUATIONSHIP && I Dont Wanna Be Your Friend.

ANGELIC: CARLOS SAINZ | SITUATIONSHIP && i don’t wanna be your friend.

A YEAR AND HALF OF A RELATIONSHIP WITH NO LABELS. you both did the relationship thing, the dates, the holding hands, the kissing and the spending nights at each other’s flats during each other’s respective holidays (not that you got much as a studying law student). carlos preferred the greek sea breeze during the quiet seasons in contrast to your love for the spanish heat, you two were polar opposites. perfect for each other, truly. the past year had been great, you enjoyed the sense of freedom that came with your ‘situationship’ but carlos wanted comfort and stability, and he was getting older. he wanted to settle down. but you wanted pain, youthful indulgence and fun. but you both couldn’t let each other go. soul tied, as your friend lightly put it.

carlos was laying on stomach in your bedroom in your grandmas villa, the greece sun slipping into through the open window onto his exposed back. soft snores filled the room as you ran your fingers softly through his hair, scrolling through instagram absentmindedly. you felt carlos stir as you lightly caressed the side of his face. you missed him. this would be only week where you both would be able to see each other, free of any kind of responsibility. carlos took your mind of things. him and his gorgeous brown eyes. you missed him and the smell of his aftershave clinging to your clothes and blankets. he was an angel sleeping beside you.

you were getting attached again, you were well aware of it. but you couldn’t help yourself. carlos knew how to keep you wanting and you did too. you both played a game of cat and mouse. “sorry, didn’t mean to fall asleep.” carlos murmured against your stomach, pressing light feathery kisses. you giggled at the feeling. he tilted his head upwards, his hands intertwining with yours as you placed your phone down beside you. “this is nice.” he commented softly, “maybe i should come to greece more than you come to madrid.”

you shocked your head in amusement. “no way,” you teased, your cheeks burning (you’d blame it on the heat he radiated) as you turned your gaze towards the open door. your grandmas and grandpas laughter filtering in and out of the house mixed with a soft blend of old 60s songs. the house smelt of spices, lemon and vinegar. a homey feel that carlos couldn’t get enough of. “summer in madrid is unparalleled. like i’d miss that.” carlos rolled of you, making himself comfortable before pulling you into his arms. you happily wrapped yourself tighter around him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and placing a gentle kiss. you felt him shudder.

you both laid there in silence before your mind started to wander. and so did carlos’ too. to a future where you both either in spain or greece, it didn’t matter. you both were older, two or three mini sainz’s running around the house, an apron tied around your waist and flour in carlos’ hair. a perfect figure with you, he wouldn’t trade that for the world. how could he? he had an angel by his side most nights and most days, someone who he could proudly call his. to him you were the most beautiful girl in the world, everything he was looking for and more. how could he say no? and the same went for you. your family adored carlos, they saw his as the son they never had. and he was truly angelic to you. in all your years of being alive, nobody had treated you the way carlos did. carlos would lasso the moon and pull down white hot stars if it meant he’d see you smile and the corner of your eyes crinkle in excitement (he’d suggest that it brought him more joy than being in a bright red car every weekend, but most things did. but most things didn’t compare to you). but it was wishful thinking.

“i think we should talk.” carlos interrupted and he felt you stiffen in his arms. you knew what this talk was about. you had this talk almost every three months on the dot. whether you both be with each other or on the phone, it didn’t matter. you should’ve dropped carlos by now, you knew deep down you couldn’t commit. but the thing was that it wasn’t that you couldn’t but you wouldn’t. despite the perfect treatment you from a man who spoiled you rotten, you were scared. you didn’t want to lose what you had with carlos. and that chance increased tremendously the moment you put a title on your relationship. people would start to judge even more than they already did. public eyes scrutinised every visit you made the paddock, asking why you hadn’t put a label on anything and what you two were. your family and his had as well. you both were so embedded into each other’s life, why wouldn’t you want to make it official?

you pulled back and glanced at his soft eyes. they were so beautiful. perfectly found and always filled with love. carlos never looked at you with anything less. “no,” you said abruptly. “we don’t.” you slipped out of his embrace, hopping out of bed and heading towards the backyard. carlos was hot on your tail. “carlos, we do this so often. you already know the answer.”

“why not?” he shot back, a tinge of hurt in his voice. you thought he would’ve gotten used to it by now. you cupped his cheeks softly, sending him a sad smile. “we’ve been ‘going out’ for well over a year. i know your family and you know mine. you come on family trips, your at the paddock whenever you can, you’re even wearing a promise ring i gave you! i spend all my holidays with you and i’ve introduced you to my friends.” carlos said gripping your wrists. you dropped your hands by your side, stepping outside into your open backyard and focusing your gaze on the flawless view of the sea. that always calmed you when you were stressed. and right now, your stress levels were through the roof. you thought you would’ve gotten used to this conversation by now, both of you repeating the same things every time. “so, why not?” carlos said firmly, raising his voice slightly spinning you back around to face him.

you huffed loudly. how were you supposed to explain to carlos that you were afraid to in a way you hadn’t before? carlos was the sunshine in your life of midnight rain, and you didn’t want to bring that to him. he deserved much better. and you were so afraid. so horrified that you would ruin whatever you had. whatever was working so well between you both. “don’t raise your voice at me.” you said equally as firmly, running your fingers through your hair exasperatedly. “carlos.. i just cant, okay?” the words sounded pathetic and meek coming out your mouth.

“no. there has to be a reason. tell me the reason.” you could feel the frustration and anger radiating off him in waves. “this is ridculous!” he exclaimed, his spanish accent breaking through strongly. “we’ve been going at this for a year and a half. and you don’t want to be my girlfriend? explain it to me please.” carlos begged, flashing his big brown eyes pleading.

“didnt you tell me you didn’t want to rush into things?”

carlos looked at you incredulously. “rush into things? corazón, do i have to repeat myself. it’s been a year and a half?” a shocked laugh bubbled out of his throat as he sat down on the straw loveseat. “how much slower do we have to go?” he questioned, pulling you in between his legs. you avoided his desperate gaze. you let a sigh pass from your lips. he was making your knees feel weak and your head feel heavy. you despised this feeling.

“okay carlos i’m scared, okay?” your voice cracked. “i don’t want to ruin what we have. i’m scared that when we start dating, you’ll get sick of me or something. i don’t want to lose you.” carlos pulled you down into his lap, his hand resting on your thigh as he used his other free hand to pull you into a kiss. a gentle and long, but sweet, kiss. you felt butterflies like you did the first time you kissed him. you let your hands rest gently on his cheeks as one of his hands held the side of your thigh and the other used your waist to pull you closer. deeper into the kiss.

carlos pulled away breathlessly, resting his forehead on yours. your noses brushing against each other. “you’ll never lose me, i promise.” he confessed, drawing circles into your exposed back with his soft finger. “i love you too much to ever let myself lose you.”

“you love me?” you giggle, pulling him back into a short kiss. and another one. and another. and another after that. “tell me that you love me again.” carlos complied happily, his hands moving to your side as he blurred out numerous i love yous at once. breathless, you managed to push his hands away from you as you now laid sprawled across the couch, your legs still atop of his. “was that you officially asking me to be your girlfriend?” you teased, your chest rising and falling at an steady pace now.

“it was.”

you smiled dreamily. “i should’ve said yes sooner.”

ANGELIC: CARLOS SAINZ | SITUATIONSHIP && I Dont Wanna Be Your Friend.
ANGELIC: CARLOS SAINZ | SITUATIONSHIP && I Dont Wanna Be Your Friend.
ANGELIC: CARLOS SAINZ | SITUATIONSHIP && I Dont Wanna Be Your Friend.
ishi091
1 year ago
Max Verstappen, De Mooiste Duels Zie Je Live Op Ziggo Sport. (link)
Max Verstappen, De Mooiste Duels Zie Je Live Op Ziggo Sport. (link)
Max Verstappen, De Mooiste Duels Zie Je Live Op Ziggo Sport. (link)
Max Verstappen, De Mooiste Duels Zie Je Live Op Ziggo Sport. (link)
Max Verstappen, De Mooiste Duels Zie Je Live Op Ziggo Sport. (link)

Max Verstappen, De mooiste duels zie je live op Ziggo Sport. (link)

ishi091
1 year ago

strawberries and cream 🂱 cs55

image

genre: 18+, literally pwp, fem!reader who’s the sister of carlos’ best friend?? LMAO

word count: 2.5k

You seem to enjoy the company of your brother’s best friend. Especially right now, over some breakfast of pancakes, thinking you may never look at strawberries and cream the same.

a/n … idk how my last post did pretty well but thank u all for the support !! still learning how to write smut (and write in general bc i never write in uni 💀) this was heavily inspired by that one serena and nate scene i hope u guys know which one i’m talking ab :))

warnings … penetrative sex, semi public sex, dirty talk (degradation and praise), unprotected sex, food, rough ish sex?

-

Keep reading

ishi091
1 year ago

ishq wala love !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they're the blueprint for true love and everyone's in love with their love.

or

for when you find a love that feels like love. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - im back (im so sorry) i really hope u like it <3 thank you so much for reading, i love you <3

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

Ishq Wala Love !!!
Ishq Wala Love !!!
Ishq Wala Love !!!

liked by kiaraaliaadvani, carmenmmundt, lilymhe and 968,426 others

yourusername ishq wala love ( love like love )

tagged charles_leclerc

13,627 comments

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carmenmmundt 💓

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charles_leclerc mon soleil ( my sun )

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≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

Ishq Wala Love !!!
Ishq Wala Love !!!
Ishq Wala Love !!!

liked by yourusername, landonorris, danielricciardo and 875,486 others

charles_leclerc joyeux anniversaire mon soleil 💌 here's to spending my life with you under the sun. ( happy birthday my sun )

tagged yourusername

6,628 comments

username SHE'S SO PRETTY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username charles watch your fucking back

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-> username don't say a word.

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-> yourusername carla 😭😭😭 i love you thank you so much ❤️ i cannot wait to see this tonight <3

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*liked by charles_leclerc*

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arthur_leclerc maman says that you cannot hog her the whole day and she wants to go shopping with her belle-fille ( daughter in law )

-> charles_leclerc she's literally my girlfriend

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-> yourusername ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

yourusername thank you so much jaan, i appreciate it sooo much 😭💌 ( darling )

-> charles_leclerc anything for my love ❤️💐

username god has a lot to answer for.

username im so

username THEY'RE LITERALLY CALLING ME SINGLE IN 63726282726 LANGUAGES

ishi091
1 year ago

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

Playing Cupid.
Playing Cupid.
Playing Cupid.

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

ishi091
1 year ago
The Seasons Of Love
The Seasons Of Love
The Seasons Of Love

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. winter, the first time. the start of the year, the start of it all. minors dni, nsfw warnings under the cut. 7k words part two part three part four part five

18+ because: brat taming, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling, spit, unprotected sex, overstimulation, booty call!, masturbation (f receiving), voyeurism, mad sass, fucking porn without plot basically.

The Seasons Of Love

There’s nothing special about the club scene in Monte Carlo. If you’ve been to a club in any major city, anywhere in the world, you’ve been to a club in Monaco. It’s all neon lights and kaleidoscope colors and poorly lit dance floors and mid-tier DJs who think they’re the next coming of Jesus. 

Tonight is no exception. The air is thick and heavy with the scent of floral perfume and alcohol, the entire room shaking with the pulsating beat of the bass, reverberating off every single corner and shaking the liquor in your glass. Bodies move—yours included—half in sync with the music, half in step with their drunken stupor. Perched in the safety of Charles’s section, away from the swaying forms of laughter and shouting and screaming, your entire body thumps alone to the beat from the DJ booth a couple meters away. 

Across the section, Charles sits stoic on a couch, taking up a seat and a half and frozen like some magnetic force. His eyes are stuck on you in a way that pulls goosebumps from your skin, makes you irrational angry at him. You’re feeling particularly bratty today, egged on by the tequila and his visible annoyance. 

You’re on your way to interject into his pity party when your sister catches your arm, pulls you by your bicep to dance with her. Her palms are sweaty and cold and you hope that it’s the condensation from her cold glass that’s got her all clammy. The two of you have always been quite a sight after a few drinks. You get your tolerance from your mother, are both disastrous lightweights, feel the need to give any and everyone around you a show. 

The two of you twirl to the music with little effort, laughing like you’re seven and the hazard littered floor under your feet is the old brown carpet from the family room you grew up hosting dance parties in. It’s all hair and giggles and hands in the air like you just don’t care. Everytime your glance catches his, he’s staring back, nursing his drink and half participating in a conversation with your brother-in-law and Jo. 

“What’s his fucking problem?” you ask, leaning over to shout into your sister’s ear.

“He can’t dance,” she slurs. You snort. He can dance.

You whistle, loud and commanding and cat-call-ish even though he’s already watching you. “Charles! Get out here and dance, you fucking buzzkill!”

Your sister joins in on the fun, playfully swaying her hips to the music, tossing out an imaginary fishing line to her husband and reeling him over, calling along teasingly to Charles. “Yeah, show us what you’ve got, Il Predestinato!”

Charles rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. “I don’t dance,” he calls back with a soft chuckle. He tries to play it cool, like always, but everyone in the room knows you’re pushing his buttons. You always are. The reason he keeps you around is the same reason you stay around; your families’ relationship predates any animosity between the two of you. That, and the friend group was founded before you loathed each other and it would be too much work to try and split it up now. You’d probably never see Joris again. 

You dance closer to him, putting on a dramatic show and a poor fight against the urge to continue challenging him. “Come on,” you tug on his arm, just out your bottom lip into a pretty little pout. “Live a little.”

He’s never been able to turn down one of your challenges, however thinly veiled they might be. It’s his own personal sore spot, the one that you poke and prod as often as you can. Competition has always been the foundation of your mutual annoyance, it’s not going to suddenly change after some eighteen years of consistency. Finally, he relents, lets you think you’re pulling him to his feet, dragging him to dance with you and your sister. 

His moves are stiff and awkward, almost hard to watch. You laugh, because he’s wound up so fucking tight in two weeks you’d have a diamond. “See!?” your sister laughs, the contagion of it spreading to even the brunt of the joke. “I told you!” she continues, slinking her arm around her husband’s neck sloppily. His arm grips her side to hold her steady. It makes you feel sick. 

A smirk tugs on his lips, and for a brief moment, there’s a hint of something more in his eyes. Not annoyance or frustration. Something seven, something innocent and childish. It’s fleeting, and you take a deep breath because the music feels quieter now. You down what’s left of  your cocktail to clear your head, to calm the sudden flutter of nerves. 

The more he drinks and the longer he’s forced to dance, the lighter and more magnetic he becomes. “You know, Charles, I never thought I’d see the day,” you tease. He’s been in a near constant state of pity-party for weeks now, ever since his dumb ass got dumped by another girl wildly out of his league. 

He rolls his eyes, but his tone is as amused as it is drunk. “Don’t get too excited. It’s the liquor,” he retorts, a piss poor attempt at downplaying how much fun he’s having. He wouldn’t dare to give you the satisfaction. You lean in closer, brush your body against his, fueled by the noise and the alcohol. 

“The liquor doing the touching, too?” you ask. 

He’s always been a touchy drunk. Since before you and your friends were allowed to drink, he’s been hands-on. And maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s grabbing your hips, the first time his broad hand is flat over your stomach, but you’d never noticed him as this touchy with his girlfriends or his girls that appear when he’s around. Whatever it is, the more he drinks, the more comfortable he is with his hands on you, and the less you find the nerve to care. 

It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, though. Every touch burns your skin. It’s a sick little game you two play. Sick and twisted and so, so unlike the two of you. 

Watch yourself—he warns, hand on the small of your back. You play with fire. Well established and well documented, though; you never back down either. No, the thrill of annoying him is enough to dive head-first, to push his buttons until they stick. “Am I?” you ask, as innocently as the tequila can muster, taking hold of his wrist and moving it so his arm is wrapped around your midsection, fighting to settle in the space between your waistband and shirt hem. 

You respond to every one of his careful touches, ever lingering finger on your arm and your waist and your back. When you close your eyes, you imagine the nonsense patterns he draws on your skin like it’s on canvas in a museum, hung front and center just for you. Your inhibitions are slipping too, and you let yourself trail wandering fingertips over his body, too.

This isn’t the Charles you’re used to, the one you go head-to-head with every fifteen minutes. This is something entirely new, so far into uncharted territory you’re not even sure which way is north. There’s something particularly intriguing about the nerves bouncing around your gut. 

Everything fades away into the dark and crowded club. You don’t know if your sister and brother-in-law are still standing there, if any of your friends are. All you know if the electric charge of this, of every teasing remark and touch that draws you closer, forces you to test the waters of the newfound layer of tension. 

Everything is building, it feels like, to some grand crescendo of emotion and desire. Before there’s room to explore it, though, to dive deeper into the unspoken shift, the moment is interrupted by the return of the friends you didn’t notice leaving. 

The night drags on, the lines between annoyance and attraction blurring into some chaotic muddle of intoxication. Nothing is clear, nothing except the sobering and unignorable pull. It lingers in the air above you, in the space between like a secret just begging to be unraveled. 

You’ve got another drink now, because you can only think of one decision that would be worse than more tequila. In due time, you’re worried you’re a lost cause when it comes to that choice as well. His eyes stay on you, even from a distance, and you revel in the glory of his attention. Embolden by it all, you continue fucking with him. “Having fun yet, Charles?” you ask, knowing smile, voice dripping in subtle suggestion. 

He raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking up. You don’t think you’ve ever spent much time looking at them, the soft shade of pink and the softer skin. “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he replies with teasing eyes. He’s irritated by your laugh, by your proximity, by your lips brushing against his ear when you whisper; you’re not the only one here trying to have fun. His jaw tightens but he doesn’t take your bait. Instead, he pulls you closer, sways in rhythm with you and replies, “I’m here to enjoy myself, not entertain you.”

He sends your brattiness running full-tilt. Forces you to carefully consider every movement, every ounce of playfulness that you allow to seep into your demeanor and the proactive sway of your hips. You grin at him every chance you get, sly and calculated, daring him to resist.  

You lean in close, brush against his ear and can blame it on practicality, on the bass and the music and the DJ if anyone were to question your actions. You rest a hand on his chest. “I know you love my attention.”

His breath hitches at your audacity, heart racing so quick you can feel it in your palm. He pulls you closer, dangerously close to your lips and says, “you talk too much. Maybe it’s time someone shuts you up.”

You scoff, low and teasing. “I’d like to see you try.”

[18 minutes later]

You step into the well-lit lobby less than a pace behind him. Your hands are interlocked, have been for every block of the darkened streets—since he grabbed yours and pulled you out of the club. “Admit it,” you giggle. “You love having me push your buttons.”

He remains stoic, jaw set as he pushes the button on the elevator. The tension is at a boiling point. You’re either about to kill each other, to be on the news for some grand double murder, or something so, so much worse is going to unfold. 

He leads you to the apartment without a word, but as soon as the door closes behind him, all is lost. Your head is bumping into the drywall before you even realize what’s happening, his lips harsh against yours, the pent up frustration and desire snapping like a dried twig. 

It’s fierce and passionate and while you never, not for a single moment in your life, imagined what he would taste like, you somehow knew it would be like this, cool and fresh and drunk. He licks into your mouth, messy and intense, teeth clacking and both of you fighting for some nonexistent upper hand. 

Fireworks are going off outside. They shake the windows with explosive gravitas as you’re blindly led by his backwards steps down the hallway. You realize that in an entire lifetime of knowing each other, this is the first time you’ve been in his place. It’s not what you expected, from what you can gather—all clutter and red cars and a boy who never had to drop his dream. “They’re going to look for us,” you say between sloppy, open mouthed kisses. 

He mumbles against your skin, strong hands on either side of your jaw. “Let them look.”

You walk through a doorway, into a bedroom clad with clutter and blue sheets. He would have blue sheets. There’s another firework, loud and booming, it makes you jump. You check your watch over his shoulder, pretend your hand doesn’t shake. “It’s almost midnight.”

“Okay.” Your knees bump into his and he sits on the edge of the bed.

You laugh, climb onto his lap, your arms strewn around his shoulders, broad and strong and you laugh again–this time into his mouth. What the fuck is going on. Seriously, what the fuck is this? “Happy New Year.”

He sighs, pulls his mouth from yours long enough to roll his eyes, to speak annoyedly into the hot air between your lips. “Yeah, whatever. Happy New Year.”

“Charles,” you mutter, hand on his chest. You think he’s going to regret this more than you will. People have always told you he’s the best kind of person. You’re not held in the same regard, and you know it. Some people are made to regret and others are made to be the regret. 

“Jesus Christ,” he laughs, but it’s curt and passive. Annoyed, as always, even when he palms at your ass, traces his hands along the bottom of your hiked up dress and pulls you down against him with a bruising grip. “Shut the fuck up.” You tug at the hem of his shirt, pull it off over his head in a swift movement. 

“You’re doing a piss-poor job at making me.”

He moves you like you’re a fucking doll, like it’s lightwork, tossing you down against the mattress and swapping your positions in a swift movement. The strength and agility of it makes your head spin. He’s not supposed to make your head spin, he’s supposed to make it ache. 

But no, no. You do ache for him. All of you aches for him, for his calloused hands and the roughness of his jeans against your thighs and the soft contrast of his lips against everything else. It’s embarrassing. You can’t believe he’s got you like this, hands pinned above your head while he buries his tongue in your mouth, grinds his hips against yours. The coarse denim is almost painful on your sensitive skin, but the growing bulge pulling the fabric tight is more intoxicating than any cocktail. 

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he says, bites a bruise against the skin just above your clavicle. “Spoiled little shit.”

He sinks to his knees, big blue or green or whatever fucking color his eyes are today watching you intently, boring into you with blown, hungry pupils.  His fingers trail along your underwear, pulling the thin, lacey fabric to the side, and then removes them all together. He gloats when he runs his thumb through your folds. “So fucking wet.”

“It’s not for you,” you goad. 

“Oh?” He nods slowly, spreading your slick with the steady digit, watching you carefully for reaction. “For who then?”

Your eyes flutter shut when the pad of his thumb presses against your clit, circles it slowly, teases you. He’s unfocused, his mind lapsing and giving you a much needed in, a clear shot to piss him off. “Your teammate.”

“Fuck off.” You first. 

“You’re right, Charles,” you speak slowly, careful to control your breathing, to hide every tell you might have. “Someone should shut me up. Do you know anyone?” Without warning, he thrusts two fingers inside you, curls them like someone had given him a diagram of your body. You gasp at the suddenness of it all. Yeah, he mutters, utterly delighted with himself. Yeah, I think I know someone.

You roll your eyes, push his head down, down, mouth onto your core. There, in the midst of licking a long stripe through your cunt, he fucking laughs, shakes his head with a subtlety you’d never perceive if it wasn’t for the tip of his nose bumping your clit when he does it. At least he can follow basic fucking instructions. 

His dick must hurt pretty damn bad, all hard and swollen in his pants, because he’s unbuttoning his jeans and freeing himself from the constraints of the fabric while lapping at you, the other hand still fucking into you with steady pace and hazy curl. You can’t see it, view obstructed by the mattress and limbs and hair, but you can tell by the way his shoulders move that he’s trying to get himself off at the same time he works on you. 

You’re not going to make his job that easy. You require all of his attention, pure and undivided and hopefully just as infuriated as you are. You reach down to the apex of your legs, pull his head up by his chin. “Just fuck me, already, you prick.”

He rises to his feet, shakes his head, “you’re a needy little thing,” he remarks. Needy? You haven’t fucking seen needy. 

He guides the head of his cock through your folds, spreading slick and spit and smacking himself against your cunt. 

Your lips purse into a sharp line. “Don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He taunts, “you’ve been teasing for hours.”

“It’s different,” you grumble. 

“How?” You could strangle him, him and all his questions. What’s a person have to do to get fucked properly around here? You already sacrified your morals by pulling tight against the navy blue sheets.  A woman can only make so many sacrifices. 

You groan, heavy and exasperated. He’s such a pest. “It just–oh, fuck you–” without warning, he plunges into you, buries himself in your cunt until he bottoms out, skin on skin and the sore sting of him stretching you. Your fingers bruise into his arms, nails scraping over his shoulder blades with a gasp. He gives you no time to adjust to him, rutting into you with deep, measured thrusts. What was that, he prodes. Somehow, you find the poise to stabilize yourself, to reply smugly. “it just is.”

His objective isn’t your pleasure, no. That would be his prerogative, a side privilege, a requirement in his quest to get you to close your mouth and stop pestering for once. Making you come is just another box to check. 

You don’t fuck someone if you’re not going to finish, though. Sleeping with Charles might be a lapse in judgment, but being someone’s play toy, letting him reap without sowing, that’s a complete disregard of your dignity

Your fingers find your clit, circle it in just the right sequence, combining with the curve of his cock to push you closer, closer, closer to the edge of the fucking world. Your entire body burns, everywhere, all over, all at once you sweat. Tell me–he insists, voice short and breathy. Tell me when you’re going to come. “I thought you were trying to shut me up?”

“Just, fuck, just tell me.” He palms over your breasts, still covered by your bra and the fabric of your dress, however thin. “So many fucking clothes,” he grumbled, stalling inside you, hands slipping under your back, between you at the mattress to pull you off the bed. You hastily pull the dress over your head, toss it somewhere onto the clothing cluttered floor. Better? You ask. “Better,” he nods, bites your bottom lip roughly, licking against your teeth. One of the hands that explore the skin of your back make quick work of the clasp on your bra, dropping the straps from your shoulders and your back is against the sheets again, his hands groping at you, pinching your nipple between his middle and ring finger, working over it until you’re humming profanities and huffing into his mouth. 

Hate and desire is such a fine, blurry line. Anyone who tells you differently is a liar. 

“M’gonna,” you choke on your words. “I’m–shit–I’m coming.”

“Yeah,” He picks up his pace, maintains a steady, toe-curling rhythm. “Come for me,” his voice heavy and growled. “Come on my dick.”

You do. You come for him, hard and long, wrapping a leg around his hip in a failed attempt to still him, to just be full of him and nothing more. He’s stronger, though, and fucks you through the whole thing, faster, harder, big hands braced on your hips for leverage. You explore the idea that a person really could be fucked in half, forced right open. 

“Good try,” you sputter, shaky and broken words leaving your lips before you’ve found a gravity that isn’t him. You lean up to kiss him, wrap your hand around the back of his neck and pull him to meet you halfway. Your fingers tickle the short hair at the nape of his neck, raise goosebumps to his skin. “Maybe next time,” you hum into his open mouth. 

He spits a long string of saliva into your mouth when you move to close the gap. You laugh around it, down it in a single gulp and lick your lips, sticking out your tongue to showcase your empty mouth, big innocent doe-eyes watching his reaction, his eye roll and devilish smirk.

“Like I said–” you start, but he’s flipping you over, tossing you around like a ragdoll.  You giggle, high on the teasing and the taunting and then he’s fucking your face into the mattress. He’s got your hair gathered up into a ratty ponytail, uses it like a handle, forcing your back into an arch, your ass to perk up into the air. 

God, he’s so fucking deep, turning you into a mess of bruises and sweat stricken skin. Your hips bounce back against him, angle in any imaginable way in an attempt to feel him deeper, to feel him in your stomach and your chest and your head. To feel him everywhere that counts. 

“Putain, taking me so good, baby” he groans, lets the praise and the pet name slipping past his lips in a moment that goes unnoticed by neither of you. He smacks your ass with a firm hand, trying to mask his words after they’ve already been spoken. Your eyes roll back into your head and you come again, without warning. You decide before you get to think about it that it was the stinging imprint of his hand that pushed you tumbling over the edge. Whatever the real reason, you’re up two-nothing, or, depending how you look at it, he’s the one winning. 

That’s all any of this is, one big game. A power struggle. You’re always fighting to win, and this is not different. If there’s a way to lose at a game where everyone is supposed to win, one of you is going to fucking find it and force it on the other. 

You’re the one doing the flipping, now. The pushing and the shoving so he’s on his back. You straddle him and he gives you this look like he’s fully pussy-drunk, sick and euphoric and floating somewhere far from here. You’re so winning at this. “Jesus Christ,” you poke, “wipe your fucking drool.”

His entire face contorts when you sink down onto him. Everytime you think you’ve reached a limit, he finds a way to hit a spot impossibly deeper than the last. His hips lift up off the bed to meet you halfway, rutting into pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had, hand moving to your cunt, thumbing lazily at your clit, leaving you fuzzy and drunk in a mess of mumbled moans above him. 

When you come for the third time, messy and sweaty, nothing that leaves your lips is distinguishable, a mess of French and English and curses and nonsensical mewls. “Fuck you,” he moans, breath shaky when he pulls himself out of you. Your body clenches around air, aches for him to return. 

He does, after he moves you back into the position it all started in. “So close,” he tells you, sinking slowly into you, his sigh hot and alcoholic on your shoulder. His pace is slow, then fast, then slow again. He’s as rapid as his breath is irregular. You better pull out–you groan, every muscle in your body strung out and exhausted and you’re coming again. It’s blinding white behind your closed lids, ears ringing and muscles flexing involuntarily. He’s wrecked you, finally, left you a mumbling mess. 

He pulls out almost in sync with your orgasm, jerks himself no more than twice between your legs before he’s coating your stomach in hot stripes of cum, loud, guttural moans leaving his lips in a way that looks and sounds practically pained. “Christ,” he heaves, watches on as your fingers dance through his orgasm, spreading it over your skin and coating your fingers. You don’t break eye contact when you stick two of them into your mouth, swirl your tongue around them tauntingly, sucking them clean and pulling them from your mouth with a pop. You hold the clean hand up for him to see, palm facing him. When you turn it, you pull down all but your middle finger, flip him off cockily. 

He swats you hand away, “Never fucking again,” he tells you. 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about me,” you scoff. “I never want to see the inside of this apartment again.”

“Why are you here, then?” He remarks, turning the corner into what you assume is the bathroom, tossing a towel to you from across the room. You clean yourself up before anything dries, before coming up with a quick rebuttal. 

You don’t come up with one, mind as tired as the rest of you. This game has been exhausting. “We’re never talking about this,” you say, pulling your dress over your head, stuffing your bra into your handbag because you aren’t sure you have the strength to clasp it closed. “Ever.”

“No shit,” he says, tosses your underwear in the general direction of you. 

You bend over to pick them up, step into them with the snap of the elastic. “Promise me.” You have no idea where your shoes are, but he’s already ushering you out of the room, herding you down the long hall with wide, swooping waves of his arms. 

“I promise.”

“Pinky,” you say, spot your shoes haphazardly stepped out of in the entryway. You don’t have any memory of them ever being on.

“Absolutely not.”

“Charles,” you lean against the wall to slip your heels on, hook up at him with a sober glare. He closes his eyes like you won’t be able to see them roll behind his lids, pinches the bridge of his nose and squints before dropping a heavy breath, holding out a pinky to you. You interlock it with yours. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand from yours, turns the lock on his front door and swings it open, fingers wrapped around the edge, other hand gesturing out into the hallway. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

“With pleasure,” you say, stepping past him and into the well-lit hallway of sprawling marble floors. You stop in front of the elevator, press the button and wait for his inevitable comment. 

“The whole brat-schtick you’ve got going on isn’t as believable when your leg shakes underneath you,” he calls down the hall. You don’t turn your head to face him, just extend your arm in his direction and flip him off. You hear his chuckle as he latches the door shut behind you. 

The Seasons Of Love

Everything about today has been dreary–from the near constant mist that falls over the city, to the chilly temperatures, to the poor excuses for men that grace the screen of your dating app. This is not how Fridays in your twenties are meant to be spent, sulking in the dark of your bedroom after a miserable day at work. 

You’re supposed to be out, partying with friends and making drunken decisions that have you waking up in a stranger’s bed after a good night you hardly remember. 

God, you need to get fucked. It’s been months. Two months and ten days–not that you’re counting. Because you’re not. Counting. You aren’t. 

You’re just restless, basking in the loneliness of the night, unable to shake the weight of your thoughts, of two months and ten days ago. Of Charles and how infuriatingly good he’d made you feel. The complexities of your relationship, the shift in the very DNA of what you know, it makes your heart race–a messy muddle of annoyance and desire that yearns to be untangled. 

You give up on the dating apps, know that even if you do match with someone, there’s nothing that can be done to solve your problem tonight. You opt instead to scroll through social media aimlessly, searching for any distraction from the ache in your gut. Your hand unconsciously slips under the hem of your shirt, cups your breast while you scroll and scroll and scroll. It does little to quell your struggles. In fact, the game is over the moment you become conscious of your hand’s placement, the moment you start to massage your breast, to run your fingers over your nipple until it’s hard and perky. 

You switch to the other breast, fingers gently tracing over the skin, sending chills up your arms, pinpointing the ache in your core. Your hand slides down your stomach, dips below the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear. You’re so worked up–pent up, reaching a boiling point. 

Your middle finger glides through your folds, grazes over your clit, teases the slick at your entrance before dipping in, collecting enough to spread it around. Your clit is swollen, needy like the rest of you, and the pad of your fingers do little to relieve the pressure. Your fingers move clockwise, then counter. Vertical and horizontal and every combination of every direction and even though you can’t remember the last time you were this horny, this desperate to come, you can’t. 

You slip in a finger, and then another, try to find the right curl and the right spot–to no avail. Now, you’re thinking about his fingers, about how much bigger his hands are, how his nimble fingers pumped in and out of you with sheet-gripping, whimper-inducing pace. 

Your phone taunts you, his contact behind the locked screen just waiting to be messaged. 

You try to resist. You hate him. He hates you. God, he knows how to fuck you, though; veiny hands and thick cock leaving you a writhing mess. Fuck. Fuck, why can’t your fingers move the way his did?

You cave, reaching over to grab your phone and text him. Hey. What are you up to tonight? It’s a mistake, you know that it is. He’s so damn annoying, there’s nothing about him that doesn’t drive you up a wall. Frustration makes the heart go fonder, you suppose, or maybe the cunt ache harder. 

Within moments, your phone is buzzing against your palm with his reply. Chilling at home. You coming over?

You roll your eyes. No.

Ok.

You bite your bottom lip so hard you think you might accidentally draw blood. It’s phantom, almost, the way you can so perfectly imagine the sting of him stretching you out, the soreness of his bruising kisses, the swollen, wet head of his dick slapping against your clit. Come over.

You couldn’t pay me.

Door’s unlocked.

Give me 20.

You’re in the bedroom when he knocks. Three times, you wonder why he isn’t just walking in. You ignore the banging, let the universe decide for you if he’s meant to turn back and walk his happy ass out of your building. The universe decides he won’t be doing that, though, because he knocks again. Louder this time. 

You pull yourself out of bed, feet creaking on the hardwood floors as you move to pull the door open. “I told you it was unlocked,” you grumble. 

“Eh,” he shrugs, dumb fucking grin on his face. “Wasn’t up for your games.”

You internally debate just how bad you need him here, if it’s worth all the trouble that is him. It’s not, almost certainly it isn’t. You invite him in anyway. 

“So, what’s the deal? Can’t get yourself off, so you call me?” He teases. Your frustrated blush gives you away before a witty comeback can slap the smirk off his face. “Oh my god,” he chuckles. “I was fucking around, but really?”

There’s no point in trying to lie now, not when your face has already betrayed your trust and revealed the truth. “Calm down,” you groused. “The last thing this world needs if your head to get any fucking bigger.”

He continues laughing like this is the funniest thing that’s ever happened to him. You want to smack the smile off his face, dimples and all. “The last thing this world needs is for this–” he gestures between the two of you, “–to become a thing.”

You mock his movements, the dumb look on his face. “This is not a thing. It’s just two friends–”

“–We aren’t friends.”

You sigh through gritted teeth. “Two not friends helping each other out.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, chews on the inside of his cheek while his eyes trace your finger, head to toe and back to head again. “You do know how ridiculous you sound, right?”

You breathe out in resignation, heading down the hall towards your room. “Can we just get on with it?”

“No.”

You stop in your tracks, turn on your heels. What the fuck is he here for, then? “No?” You close the gap between the two of you, plant your hands firmly on either side of his jaw and kiss him, all tongue and spit and rough lips. You knock him off balance, falling out of step when he kisses you back with a matching intensity, hands hovering over your hips. He doesn’t rest them there, you can feel the warmth in the space between your skin and his, the force that pulls you together. 

When he does settle his hands, it’s not to deepen the kiss, to swallow any more frustration. It’s to put distance between your mouths. “I want you to–”

You nibble on his earlobe, cut him off with your hushed words. “I don’t give a fuck what you want, I want–”

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he commands, voice failing to waiver to your hushed level, an air of snugness to him.

“Charles,” your voice cracks with his name, a hint of your under the surface insecurity peeking through, putting themselves on display for him. Here! Here! Look at me! 

“Show me, or I’m leaving,” he says, and it’s all throaty and husky. 

(Eleven minutes later)

Legs spread for him, two fingers moving busily against your core, circling your clit, teasing your hole. 

He stares at you like he can see your fucking soul, watches from his spot across the room, leant against the old wooden dresser, arms folded and ankles crossed. You stare back–harder, maybe–like if you win the little contest your cheeks won’t burn so bright, you won’t feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so embarrassed. 

Those feelings fade, they do, with each flick of your wrist. With every glance of his hungry eyes to your fingers, to your cunt, tracing their way up and down your body, you feel calmer and calmer. And when he runs his hand over his mouth, along the stubble of his jaw and off his chin, you’re closer and closer. 

It pulls whimpers, soft and slow and sweet, from your lips. There’s a sick thrill to it, to him seeing her like this, all needy and open and sensitive. It’s empowering, almost. 

He breaks no more than twice, watches every brow quirk, lid flutter, and lip twitch with raw, intimate eyes. He’s less interested in what you do to yourself, the curve of your fingers or the noises they create, than he is in the way you react to the movements. 

“You’re not even fucking watching,” you say, the letter sounds falling to your breath, hitching as your fingers angle just right. 

“Watching what matters.”

“Oh? And, uh–” you huff. “What’s that?”

He laughs, dimples digging deep into his cheeks. You’ve always thought they made his smile so childish, like you can’t take anything seriously when it comes from someone with primary-school dimples and giddy eyes. You don’t struggle to take it seriously, now. “You’re thinking about me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh parting your lips. “Says who?”

He pushes himself off the dresser, saunters over with heavy feet, stopping at the foot of the bed. “What are you thinking about?” He humors. 

Your eyes roll. You’re thinking about a lot of things. Half a dozen, atleast. About your fingers, the way they move against your swollen cunt, sticky with creamy slick, and how his fingers are that much longer than yours. About how loud he walks, how his heavy feet stand at the end of your bed, crossed arms that pull his t-shirt tight across his chest. About the fact that you’re not sure you locked the door behind him because you were so distracted by the way his sweatpants hung from his waist. About how he doesn’t bother to adjust or hide the protruding bulge under the fabric right now. About the curve of his cock, about how pathetic and full it makes you, utterly unable to spend time thinking about anything but how well he stretches you out. About his hair, flat and straight and wholly unstyled, how your hands would mess it up so nicely, tug and twist until he has something smart to say. Beyond frustratingly, he’s right. As you quickly approach a high, breath quickened and movements desperate, all you’re thinking about is him. “Things.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, ever the rake, unsatisfied with your response. 

You add a third finger, steady pace and a held stare. The muscles in your leg twitch. You’re so fucking close. “What are you thinking about?”

He sways, rocks his weight from his left foot to the right, runs his tongue over his teeth. “Things.”

A coy smile upturns the corner of your lips. “Mmhmm,” you mock. 

He moves around the bed, trails his fingers over your skin; from your ankle, along the bone of your shin, a bruise on your knee. They stall on your thigh, trace small, soft circles on the inside of your leg. “You really want to know?” 

He’s such a tease, keeps moving up, up, up, over your stomach and through the valley of your breast. “I–ah– I,” you stutter through your words, fingers working tirelessly to push you over the edge. Restless, further irritated by his delicate touch, his fingers up to your jaw now, slotting themselves there, you nod. “Yes.” 

He leans over you, your lips inches apart, open and hot breathed. “Too bad,” he whispers into the space between, closing the gap and kissing you with an insatiable kind of fervor. Your fingers still, your other hand reaching to grip the back of his neck, to pull him deeper into the kiss. It’s a kiss that’s half as good as the sex, the breaking of the unbearable tension that’s filled the room while he’s watched, the promise of what’s to come. A lustful implication. His hand leaves your jaw when you pull apart for air, moving over your stilled hand. “Let me?” He asks, and it doesn’t feel like much of a question, the way he’s already slipping his fingers under yours before you can even squeak out an answer. 

There’s something entirely different about his fingers, like the way that you can’t tickle yourself. You can’t predict his moves, every movement of every ridge of his fingerprints is something entirely surprising. “Yeah, fuck, you make, ah, make yourself…” You give up on the sentence, your body failing your mind in its ability to spit out a comeback. Yeah, you wish you could tell him. Yeah, make yourself fucking useful.  

He laughs, slides his long middle finger inside you, pumps it twice and slips in another. You gasp at his sudden movement. “You’re embarrassing yourself, baby.”

Your back arches off the sheets. “Don’t call me that,” you seethe. 

“But,” he curls his fingers against the spot you’ve been trying to reach all night. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he smirks. “It makes my job so easy.”

“Fuck you.”

“I was going to let you come first, but,” he chuckles. He’s so proud of himself it makes you ill. “If you insist.” 

His hand stills, threatens to pull out of you entirely, but you’re covering it with your own, holding him there when you look up, hips instinctively grinding against him. “I’ll kill you. I will.” 

You’re pushing him out of your apartment by the end of night, locking the door behind him. Your leg shakes when you slide down the door onto the floor. This is the last time, it has to be. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence. Thrice. Thrice would be a pattern. You won’t let it become a pattern. 

You wake up at seven-thirty and your hair is still in knots, your body still aching from him. You find a new bruise every time you look in the mirror. You can’t shake the image of his messy hair, of the feeling of the brown locks between your fingers and the sound he’d make when you’d tug on them. 

It won’t be happening again.

The Seasons Of Love
ishi091
1 year ago

hot girls support 44 – lh44

masterlist

Summary: The one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.

Pairing: lewis hamiton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing? (i’m not even sure), and a whole lot of fluff

Request: “Hi can you do we’re Lewis Hamilton wife is with him to see one of his races but she leaves the garage for some reason and over hears someone talking bad about her husband and she snaps and tells them straight and Lewis is watching her from a distance like damn that’s my wife”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i don’t know if this classifies as a drabble but let’s just pretend it does because i realised that i can’t write anything under 1k? this was a very fun request to work on, so thank you to anon, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Hot Girls Support 44 Lh44

Both you and Lewis are private people when it came to your relationship. It has always been that way, with him leading a lifestyle in front of the cameras, and you preferring to stay away from those said cameras as much as you can. Over time, you both developed a rhythm, a delicate balance between Lewis's public persona and your desire for privacy. It was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that you valued above all else.. You knew how much Lewis's racing career meant to him, and you admired his ability to excel under the constant scrutiny. And in return, Lewis respected your wish for a quieter, more intimate life together. It was this mutual respect that solidified the foundation of your relationship, allowing it to thrive despite the challenges that fame and attention often brought.

That is not to say that you guys were completely private, of course. You’ve had your fair share of events the two of you attended as a couple, as well as races, but Lewis is always mindful of the fact that you don’t want cameras in your faces. In the early days of your relationship, the media had tried to capture glimpses of your relationship, eager to uncover every detail and learn more about the woman who finally made him give up his bachelor status. However, Lewis, being the fiercely protective partner that he was, had firmly set boundaries to shield your personal life from the prying eyes of the world. He cherished the sanctity of your bond and understood the importance of keeping certain moments sacred and away from the public eye.

The two of you have a special routine for the race days where you decide to join him on the track – you mainly spend your time inside the Mercedes garage, instead of lingering around where the cameras are most likely to be. However, you make sure to leave the garage for celebrations for those races where Lewis is up on the podium, celebrating him with the people who support him every step along the way whom he appreciates immensely; while the podium celebrations were reserved for the public eye, the garage held its own intimate victories. It was here that you celebrated the milestones and shared the unspoken triumphs, basking in the knowledge that your presence was an unwavering pillar of support for Lewis. But for the most part, you’re happy with your routine – it’s safe, familiar and it has worked for a very long time. So you don’t really know why you decided to take Roscoe on an impromptu tour of the paddock, especially when he gives you that look which clearly says that he would rather be taking his afternoon nap.

It's a good day despite the chaos everyone on the paddock seems to be in, but then again, there’s only a few hours until the qualifying session. So, in hopes of avoiding the human traffic, you decide to take Roscoe to a more secluded area in the back. As you walk, Roscoe happily wagging his tail by your side, you take in the sights and sounds of the paddock. The familiar smell of rubber and gasoline fills the air, mingling with the excited murmurs of fans and the distant roar of engines. It's a world you've come to know and appreciate, even if from a slightly different perspective. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly hear voices growing louder as you approach a group of people gathered in conversation. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you slow your pace, intending to discreetly eavesdrop before continuing on your way. But as you get closer, you realize the topic of their conversation hits closer to home than you expected.

In hindsight, you know better to get involved in situations which might cause you to bother yourself with rude, petty people, but when it concerns your husband and everything that he has worked hard his entire life for, you don’t even hesitate. With the fierce protectiveness you feel inside, you clear your throat to get the attention of the engineers, “Excuse me,” you say as you give them a (fake) smile, “could you repeat that again, please?”

The group falls silent, their faces registering surprise and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. They exchange glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond to your unexpected intrusion. “We just meant that–” The man is quickly silenced by one of his friends elbowing him in the side.

You ignore the silent ow that comes from the man’s mouth and give the trio a stare down. “Well, I guess everybody is entitled to their opinions.” Your sweet smile and dulcet tone is enough to think them that everything is fine, but you’re quick to continue voicing your thoughts, “But that doesn’t give you the right to undermine a man’s hard work, especially when he has broken record after record and don’t even get me started on the fact that not only he is a pioneer in this sport, he is also a role model and inspiration to many and has impact beyond the track.” You let a frustrated hum, “Also, have some respect, the guy is an eight-time world champion.”

The guy who spoke before looks confused as he attempts to point out, “He won it seven–”

“Do you want me to let Roscoe attack you?” You ask as you point to the puppy sitting next to you, who, in hearing his name, looks up at you; all panting and happily sticking his tongue out.

Little do you know, Lewis had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, a mix of admiration and adoration in his eyes. He waits until the engineers leave in a hurry, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of Lewis's lips as he watches you handle the situation with such grace and confidence. As you turn around, ready to head back to the safety of the Mercedes garage, your eyes meet his, and a surge of warmth fills your heart. Walking towards you, Lewis closes the distance between you, his steps purposeful and full of pride. His arms quickly find their place on your waist as he mumbles, “Damn, that’s my wife.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, your face quickly mirroring the smile he gives to you. “Didn’t you see the sign? Apparently, ‘hot girls support 44’.”

“Is that so?” He hums, letting his hands wonder towards the back pockets of your jeans as he continuously presses kisses along your jaw, “It’s definitely right.”

As Lewis's lips trail along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine, you playfully swat at his chest. "Behave, Mr. World Champion. We're in a public place," you whisper, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.

Lewis chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "Can't help it, love. Seeing you stand up for me like that, it's a turn-on," he teases, his voice laced with admiration. "But you're right, let's save the public displays of affection for later."

With a shared understanding and a silent promise, you and Lewis turn, making your way back to the familiar comfort of the Mercedes garage. In each other's presence, you find solace and strength, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And as Roscoe happily trots beside you, you can't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary life you share with the man who has captured your heart, both on and off the track.

ishi091
1 year ago

PART 2 OF THE MADDEST OBSESSION HEADCANNONS. BRINGING THIS BACK CUZ IF WE DON'T GET CONTENT, WE MAKE THE CONTENT.

Christian is ambidextrous.

Gianna is left-handed.

Gianna gives Christian forehead kisses and it melts him on the inside everytime.

Christian is a shoulder-kisser. Cuddling? Shoulder kiss. Washing dishes together? Shoulder kiss. Waking up next to her in the morning? Shoulder kiss. Thanking his wife for anything? Shoulder. Kiss.

Gianna calls Christian "malysh" in a horrible accent just to piss him off.

Other times she reverts to "Allister" but Christian just pulls her close to remind her (against her lips, ofcourse) that they are both "Allister" now.

They have three children.

On days Christian is away on a work trip, he wears Gianna's hairtie on his wrist.

Gianna picks up on Christian's habits after Kat is born and finds herself aligning things or setting them upright unknowingly when she is distracted or stressed.

Christian breaks a jammed door when he can't get to Gianna during a powercut.

Gianna tries to seduce Christian multiple times during her pregnancy it works everytime

Christian has run out at 3 in the morning and threatened a taco truck owner just to fulfil Gianna's cravings.

Gianna checks out Christian's ass so often even Kat makes a habit of tilting her head and whistling under her breath when her Father is not looking even though she doesn't understand why her Mother does it in the first place.

Christian is always outwardly displeased (inwardly, at peace) whenever he sees his brother getting along splendidly with his wife.

Gianna stops forcing Christian to eat the sweets she makes but it doesn't stop him from licking her finger clean off the batter.

Christian has mastered the art of cooking with one hand because his daughter always wants to be held.

Gianna foaming at the mouth is speechless when she wakes up one morning to see a freshly showered Christian with his hair dripping wet, holding Kat in one arm and flipping pancakes in the other.

Sometimes Christian pretends to be asleep when he can feel Gianna watching him but he almost always ends up biting her finger when she starts trailing it all over his face.

Gianna has woken up to Christian snuggling against her neck with his arms wrapped around her, deep in sleep, too many times to ruin it by telling him he cuddles her in his sleep.

Christian is a girldad. Whatever his girls want, his girls get.

For his birthday, Gianna gets a number 3 tattooed on the inside of her ring finger.

For her birthday, Christian tells her another secret he's never told anyone else.

He's found happiness. Her.

GOOD LORD THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO END ON A SAPPY NOTE BUT HERE WE ARE. SPECIAL THANKS TO MEDS♡ FOR ALWAYS BEING READY TO SCREAM, CRY, BANG HEAD ON WALLS WHENEVER WE TALK ABOUT TMO!♡

ishi091
1 year ago

all my love for you — lando norris

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lando norris x fem!reader [3k] summary: you and lando had never really properly breached the topic of children, but you were starting to see the appeal of making them. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pwp a/n: this was supposed to be a simple blurb but I had to make it long and complicated waaah. i just couldn’t resist, so I hope y’all like this! as always, don’t be a ghost reader, i’d love to hear your thoughts x and also THANK YOU FOR 10K!!! this is all for you guys 🤍

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It was just supposed to be a simple make out, a few presses of the lips and a little innocent groping but suddenly Lando found himself on his back with you straddling him in his childhood bed. There was a familiar grin stretching your raw and bitten lips, a smile that spelled mischief and it simultaneously terrified and excited him to no end.

You’d been handsy ever since this morning, clinging to him and giving him small kisses when no one was looking and it only escalated when his sister dropped by their parents’ house with his niece. It had been like someone had flipped the switch in you, because suddenly you found yourself feverish with the need to have a baby and even further in love with your boyfriend. His interactions with the baby wasn’t something you ever thought you’d need to see, but you got it and damn it, it was the most precious thing you’d ever witnessed.

Dinner had been torture for you, not that his family wasn’t quite literally the sweetest bunch you’d ever had the pleasure of interacting with. But you’d sat across from Lando by the dinner table, giving each other looks that conveyed so much and then everyone had migrated to the living area to watch a film.

Keep reading

ishi091
1 year ago

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐰𝐨” 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Pairing: Lando Norris x girlfriend!reader (she/her), Max Fewtrell x reader

Summary: Reader and Lando share a sweet moment on stream, that the fans absolutely crumble over.

Warnings: None, pure fluff

Word count: 600+

A/N: I'm not really sure about this one, so let me know what you think!

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this account, @hotmencore

It was currently late on a Saturday night, and you were in the living room of Max's apartment, him and your boyfriend Lando on stream in the next room. You didn't mind at all though, as you and Lando hadn't been back home in the UK for a while, and you two had spent the day with your friends yesterday. You currently held a copy of Before the coffee gets cold in your hands, as you were finally coming to the last few pages of the book. A blanket lay over your legs, the only noise apparent coming from the TV playing at a low volume, and the muffled talking and laughs of Lando and Max from the next room.

You and Lando didn't have a secret relationship, but more of a private one. You came to any grand prix that you could, supporting him as much as possible whilst still working your own job, but didn't feel the need to put your relationship all over the internet. You appeared a lot on Lando's jgp account, which the fans absolutely adored, but that was the majority of which you were seen on social media, your own account being private.

So when it came to twitch streams, you preferred to stay out of the way and leave Lando and Max to it.

You just came to the last line of your book, and placed it at your side, taking a sip of the tea Lando had made you earlier. You put the mug back onto the side table, and tilted your head over the back of the sofa to look almost longingly to the door of which your boyfriend was. You wouldn't admit it, seeing that it has only been about 30 minutes, but you miss his touch. But you knew you didn't really want to be seen on the stream, so decided to leave it and just wait a little.

10 minutes passed, and you had decided that you were just going to have to pluck up the courage to appear on camera if you wanted your boyfriend. You got up from the sofa, put your now empty mug in the sink, and walked to the door, slowly pulling the handle down.

The boys stopped mid conversation to peer over at the door, just as you peeked your head round to see if you were in shot of the camera.

"You okay baby?" Lando asks, a smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah I just got bored" you reply with a chuckle, walking into the room, shutting the door behind you.

"Come here" He says, also with a chuckle, beckoning you over as he shuffles back in his chair, an arm held out towards you. You walk over to him, putting your hand in his, him softly pulling you down to sit on his lap. Your head naturally falls onto his shoulder, your face away from the stream as you shut your eyes, Lando's arms almost instinctively wrapping around your waist in an instance. Lando looks round at you, kissing your cheek before turning back to the stream. For a few minutes, him and Max carried on chatting, Lando absentmindedly dipping his hand underneath your top to trace random shapes on the bare skin of your lower back.

"Mate the chats going mad over you two" Max says with a chuckle, turning his head to look to Lando.

"What" Lando laughs, shuffling closer to the chat screen on the chair, you lift your head up to also look.

Pretty much every single chat that popped up was about how adorable they found the interaction between you and Lando, though you struggled to read each one fully as they just kept flooding through. All you both did was laugh, Lando and you looking at each other, giving him the chance to place a soft and gentle kiss to your lips, which you happily reciprocated.

ishi091
1 year ago

lost in japan — lando norris

Lost In Japan Lando Norris

summary – a convincing late night call and a flight to japan. pairing – lando norris x you (femreader) warnings – 18+ (sex, coarse language) word count – 3.8k inspo – ‘i like being close to you. you’re warm’ for the #monzamashspecial and that shawn mendes song – you know the one. masterlist

Lost In Japan Lando Norris

“Fly out and see me…”

“You know I can’t, Lando.”

This had been the back and forth for nearly half an hour, like a painfully long rally in tennis and neither one of you wanted to give up the point. Lando had been out in Japan for nearly a week, 5 days and counting and before that, Singapore and before that, Italy for training. He had always been at peace with the time he spent away from home, because up until now it had never really been a problem. Jet-setting across the globe, living out his childhood dream – on top of the world. Chained to nothing and nobody.

But then you showed up in those leather pants; it was all by coincidence and he was in trouble from the very beginning. He liked you. A lot. And you liked him but that one night on a breezy street corner in Melbourne had changed his perspective. Skewed beyond recognition, because now he had someone to miss. Someone who influenced his happiness, his contentedness and that was you. You had snapped up a spot in his cold, precious heart that he had guarded, locked away safely so he didn’t have to wake up to that sinking feeling in his gut, or look at his phone and have his mood drop when he didn't see your name in his notifications.

He was forlorn without you and even though it made him sick that he had ended up like this, he loved it. He took the good with the bad, every chance to hear your voice made it worthwhile and much to your surprise, you felt the same. Infatuated and swept up in this new romance.

“Why not? If you give me a really good answer, I’ll stop asking,” Lando bartered as he trudged around his hotel room, kicking articles of clothing towards his empty suitcase in an attempt to clean up the mess he’d made over the last couple of days.

“Well for starters I have this thing called a job… I have responsibilities and I have my houseplants – you know how much they mean to me.”

A small smirk tugged on the corners of your mouth when Lando rolled his eyes, brow quirked. Even the shaky camera was able to capture his distain for your answer but he quickly bounced back, knowing that he wasn’t completely out of the fight if it was a couple of replaceable pot plants keeping you from dropping everything to see him. Surely he meant more than that.

“You love me way more though.”

“Definitely not,” You scoffed playfully and adjusted the loose, somewhat revealing top you'd been sleeping in before this late night call, “But I do miss you a tiny bit…”

Lando’s frown softened at your confession, one he’d been patiently waiting to hear. I miss you too; he sighed and walked into what looked like a bathroom, carefully balancing the phone on a shelf beside the mirror. 

He was an enigma the night that you met him; a friend of a friend of a friend, someone had said when introducing the two of you at a swanky restaurant in the heart of the city. You had wondered why there was a last minute invite sent your way that afternoon, until your friend explained that her new work friend wanted to show their friend who had just flown in from England a good time. It was a confusing web of acquaintances but you agreed, knowing that whatever she had organised would be worthwhile attending.

Little did you know that the friend would have something to do with why your street was shut down for a week, making your daily commute fifteen minutes longer than normal. But when you looked into those stormy blue, or maybe they were hazel eyes, and grasped the hand he was holding out for you to shake, you didn’t care. In fact, nothing really mattered after the two of you pulled up a seat at the long table and continued chatting, drawn together.

“See something you like? …”

Lando’s tinny voice pulled you out of your daydreaming and snapped your eyes back to your screen. You cleared your throat and tucked a couple of stray hairs behind your ear as you watched him change out of his Phoenix suns shirt; his rippling muscles contracting caught your attention, perfectly sculpted under is sun-kissed skin. Beneath all the boyish charm and dripping sarcasm, he was sexy. And it was taking everything in your power not to give in and book a plane ticket to Japan as soon as possible.

“Nothing in particular but I do like that shirt,” You deflected with a smirk, wanting nothing more than to be crawling your lips all over his skin, tasting the cool mint mouthwash he was swirling and spitting out in quick succession.

“Might have to steal it when I see you next.”

“Which will be…?” Lando teetered off, hoping for sooner rather than later but you simply shrugged and closed your eyes, exhaling so deeply that a whistle rang through your nostrils.   

Lando could tell you were battling internally with the idea, knowing that you wanted to see him just as much as he ached to see you. It’d been too long and with your situationship being so new, so hot – he was desperate to lock in a time or have at least a crumb to cling onto if nothing else. But he needed to be gentle, patient while you worked through all of the metaphorical plates spinning in your head.

“You can steal all of my shirts when you get here,” He sweetly stated, his attention full focused on your solemn expression, “Look, what day suits you the best and I’ll work around that.”

He was serving the ball in your court now, with the promise of taking care of everything else so you didn’t even have to think about it. Make the fleeting decision and the rest will be sorted. Except for the glaringly obvious hurdles you’d have to jump over to get the time off work that you knew Lando wanted you to have.

“Maybe Saturday…”

Lando groaned at your response, “But I’ll be busy all day Saturday.”

“Doing what?” You teased; lip firmly gripped between your front teeth as Lando rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through his messy hair in frustration.

“Ha-ha. Very funny,” He grumbled and titled his head back, chin and jawline tensed as he groaned loudly into the dark bedroom he was sitting in, “Come on – I’m blue-balling out here and you’re not here to help me… It's not fair.”

“Oh, so you just want me for sex?”

Lando’s eyes narrowed and a small smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he planned his next move, “No,” He sheepishly whispered, “But also not no… But definitely not just for sex because that would be wildly perverse and disgusting – promise.” Cheeky fucker.

You hummed, “Just so we’re clear, I’d just be coming out for the sex. Nothing more than that – can’t stand you, actually. Absolutely gross.”

Not even a beat passed before Lando's loud, high-pitched laugh filtered through your air pods, hand barely covering his face. The other was in your face, middle finger perfectly framed on your screen while you sat back and enjoyed the sound you’d missed so much; his laugh alone made you chuckle and forget all about your worries.

“Fuck you,” He cheekily retorted, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, “But what I’m hearing is that you’re coming out… I’m booking you a ticket right now so keep an eye out for the email, baby.”

Baby.

“Baby?” You asked, eyebrow quirked with intrigue.

“Shit, sorry…” Lando cursed under his breath, cheeks reddening as he clicked away on his phone, “It slipped out. Is it bad?”

You shook your head and balanced your chin on your knuckles, “No, I like it – makes me feel like we’re more than just strangers fucking around.”

“Oh yeah? And is that something you want to feel or?”

Now he was just being cocky.

It was your turn to roll your eyes and scowl, “Don’t push it, baby.”

“You can’t go calling me that with that tone and not be naked in this bed right now… You’re killing me.” His voice was strained, eyes dark.

You simply smiled and winked, “I will be soon.”

“Cannot fucking wait.”

Lost In Japan Lando Norris

It was raining in Osaka when you landed; the red eye flight causing your eyes to flutter close as you slumped in the back seat of the cab, silent. Bright headlights from the heavy traffic flashed behind your eyelids as the driver slowly made his way through the city streets, stopping every two seconds for pedestrians. You were in a foreign country; one you’d never visited before but you felt calm, safe to completely relax after the tenuous eleven hour flight.

Lando had messaged you the address to the hotel he was staying at and let you know he’d left his spare key card for you downstairs at reception. You shyly asked the attendant for the card he left, feeling a little dirty at the insinuation that you were there for a good time, not a long time. A thought entirely in your own head as the young lady gave you a polite smile and sent you on your way.

Because of Lando’s efforts to go above and beyond making your journey as stress-free as possible, you hadn’t bothered messaging him when you landed or even checked to make sure he was at the hotel. Only having carry-on gave you the freedom to jump off the plane and into a cab – no time to really think about the logistics that you had been reassured were taken care of. All you could think about was the instinctual pull you felt to get to him as quickly as you could.

Maybe you should’ve messaged. Given him the heads up as you tiptoed through the long hallway, past the large lounge room and kitchen that was bigger than your own back home. It was massive and as expected, exuding luxury. You could tell from the facetime yesterday that he was living large in the penthouse suite, indulging in all the lavish things life as a professional athlete promised. It was too much but you weren’t complaining when you touched the plush robes hung up on the back of the bedroom door or when you saw how huge, and enticing the bed was.

You let your mind wander to the possibility that maybe, just maybe you could get used to this but as soon as that thought emerged, you flicked it away. The gentle sound of running water echoing drew your attention to the door on the other side of the room, closed and most likely locked for privacy, or so you assumed.

Your feet were gliding you towards the sound, hand reaching for the handle before your brain had even registered what you were doing. Impatience and temptation were fuelling all of your movements as you clicked open the door and let out a cloud of steam, warmth instantly hitting your face as you took a couple of steps over the threshold.

“Hello?” You softly called out, not wanting to startle Lando but failing as you heard a shallow gasp from behind the steamed glass. His hand hit the pane and smudged away the moisture obstructing his sight, his narrowed eyes bloodshot from the water but he could see you, wondered for a second if you were a ghost in the fog but grinning when he realised you were here. Really here.

“Holy shit…” He breathed out and pushed open the glass door, thrilled that you were already unzipping your jeans and tugging the tight shirt from your shoulders. He didn't even have to ask.

“You scared the absolute shit out of me.”

He almost giggled as you skirted your underwear down your legs, the cool air sending chills down across your skin, “Let me in, quick!”

Lando moved aside with another chuckle, hands grasping your waist as you searched for warmth, a sigh of relief exhaled when you felt the hot water rushing over your back, eyes closed and skin tingling from the gentle touches trailing down your spine. You fluttered your eyes open; smile etched on your face as you looked up and took in your surroundings. Took in him.

“Hello.”  

“Hi.”

Lando whispered back as you reached out and placed your hands on his chest that was glimmering with water droplets the same size of his birth marks and freckles. Misshapen and lovely. The scent of lemon and sandalwood mingling together filled the air, his skin still slick and soapy from being interrupted mid-shower but he didn't care. Not one bit.

Your fingers danced across his beating heart, tracing small circles on his shoulder before gazing up through your lashes, smile coy.

“I made it…”

“You did… and you’re real,” So real he could feel you and see, for the first time in over a month, how you reacted to his touch.

“How are you real?”

“That’s way too philosophical for my mushy brain so just shut up and kiss me, please,” You teased, tone soft and arms snaking around his waist to bring his body closer; chest stuck perfectly against yours.

“That I can do,” Lando sang back as he grasped your slack jaw in his hands and pulled you in, lips tied in a wistful kiss.

It wasn’t an ordinary kiss. It was a Lando kiss, which up until this point in your life you’d never experienced before now. You felt sparkly, giddy yet set alight, burning with desire – all rolled into one wild emotion. At first you mistook it for lust, merely a physical attraction that would slowly fade away, never felt again. But it was lust disguised when you felt it for the second time and then the third and forth time, the fifth and so on.

The feeling never faded and remained even when you were miles away, kissing through the phone and pretending you were together, touching one another. Chasing that feeling over and over again.

His lips moved so perfectly with yours, in sync and the taste on his tongue reminded you of a warm summers day down on the beach, cocktail in one hand and his fingers intertwined in the other. It was visceral and destined, like you’d kissed him a million times before; but what you were doing with him was all so new, so fresh, so fucking exhilarating that you hadn’t even realised he’d moved his lips to your neck, the soft spot beneath your ear being gently nibbled by his sharp teeth.

“You smell so good... like the first night we fucked,” Lando mumbled against your supple skin, eliciting the tiniest whimper to slip from your parted lips as he brushed the palms of his hands over your perky nipples.

“Hello to you,” He whispered, pressing a soft, smirking kiss to the top of your left boob before moving to the right, “And hello to you.”

“Oh my god,” You groaned at his words, barely slapping his bicep but still making him flinch, as his breathy giggle fanned across your chest, “Such a dork.” 

Lando removed his lips, reluctantly and stood up straight again, slightly towering over your smaller frame, “I remember you saying that you liked that about me…” He defended and suggestively winked, slowly walking you out from underneath the stream of water and towards the shower wall.

“I think it came up when you were touching yourself and moaning my name… Maybe? Can’t quite recall,” He toyed, knowing exactly what had happened last week when you texted him, ‘call me asap’ in the middle of the night.

“You are doing a lot of talking for a guy who replied with ‘I’m watching the new episode of Mandalorian, can’t call’, after I sent you a photo of me literally naked… You know what, maybe I should leave you hanging, now that you’ve so kindly brought it up.”

The whiny protest and strain in Lando’s eyes softened when he felt your hand graze his thigh, fingernails lightly scratching the skin so close to where he had been aching for you. He gasped at the sensation, starved of anyone’s touch besides his own for far too long. Your eyes met in the middle, a humorous smile twitching on the ridge of your mouth when he sucked in a deep breath and his bottom lip with it as you wrapped your hand around him, twisting gently.

Long strokes sent his eyelashes fluttering shut as he pushed you against the wet titled wall; skin slapping as your back made contact. His head was titled back from the pleasure coursing through his veins, somehow still attached to his body as he let out a strangled moan. He couldn’t think straight – the words magnificent and mind-blowing tumbling around his empty head until he heard a squeak and cracked open his eyes to see you turning around, hands pressed against the crimson tiles.

He noticed a hunger burning behind your stare when you glanced over your shoulder, ass brushing over his cock like a woman starved.

“I’ve been dreaming about this ever since I left your place in London,” You confessed as Lando dipped his head and trailed open-mouthed kisses down your back, "Think about it so much."

“Fuuuck,” He grumbled as you rolled your hips steadily, stroking him between your slightly parted thighs with a raspy moan, “Shower sex specifically?”

Lando’s question was punctuated with his tip nudging forward, gliding over your clit before sinking slowly into your warmth with a gruff exhale, “Shiiit.”

A soft giggle slipped from your lips as you leaned forward and rested your forehead against the wall, droplets of water dripping down the ceramic onto your flushed cheeks. Chills crawled down your spine as Lando roughly grasped your hips, fingertips kneading the skin as he slowly fucked into you.

“Shower sex had crossed my mind but honestly, I imagined it all…”

“Did it feel this good?” Lando asked with a knowing smile on his lips as he rocked into you, slow and steady, sensing that the occasion called for something gentle, "Because it didn't in my imagination." You shook your head and grasped his wrist, needing to feel his large hand on your stomach, “Not even close, baby… I want it all.”

Hearing you stake your claim for his heart and hint that maybe you wanted more than just a couple of one night stands strung together sent a surge of serotonin through Lando's hazy mind. It may have started that way; a subtle mention of 'no strings attached' so you could both keep your hearts safe but the countless hours talking on the phone, venting about your day as if you’d known each other for years proved that it was more. The way his touch set every inch of your skin alight proved to you that he was more.

He was the match to your fuse.

A gasp slipped from your lips when he pulled out, the emptiness feeling like a punishment for god knows what but Lando was quick to spin you around and pin your back against the cold wall, “Need to change it up otherwise we’ll be calling it a night very early.”

“Can’t handle the heat?” You teased, hoisting your leg to wrap around his thigh as he stretched you out again; eyes closing for a split second to adjust to his firm thrust.

“Oh, I’m doing great, pretty girl. Dunno about you though...” Lando whispered the last part as his hand skimmed down between your legs, thumb gliding over your sensitive nub ever so lightly – enough to have you hissing in pleasure.

“I am going so good..." You exhaled, trying to keep your cool but the scrunched up brows and slack jaw exposed you and he couldn't help but admire how fucking beautiful you looked meeting his snapping hips, deliciously synchronised .

"Keep touching me like that.”

You unclasped your claws that were digging into Lando's muscular biceps and slung your arms loosely over his shoulders, chest to chest and you could feel his heart beating. It was pumping under the taut skin, thrumming against your own as he rocked his hips into you, long, teasing strokes that were clouding your mind with all sorts of dangerous thoughts.

“I like being this close to you. You’re so warm and soft and god…” He rambled off with a moan and a gritted smile as you opened your eyes and held his face in your hands, smiling back.

“I like it too.”

The words got tangled in your throat as your nails dug into the back of his head, the pace now quickening to a level you’d never really been before with Lando. Sure, you'd had sex but this was different. It was pent up, building to an unparalleled crescendo that was washing over the both of you quicker than expected. Loud moans being swallowed in a desperate kiss, hands fumbling to grab hold of any inch of skin they could to pull you through your earth shattering high. Screams muted by the sound of running water.

And all you could do was ride it out while Lando held you upright, palms shaky and fingertips barely holding on as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck; curls tickling the sultry skin. The air was thick, humidity making everything sticky as your erratic breaths rattled against one another; chests connected, limbs tangled together as you stood under the water.

Wow, was all Lando rasped with no attempt of untangling himself from your embrace until your trembling fingers traced down his back, nails dragging over his supple skin finall brought him into your vision once again. Eyes misty and tired.

“I’m really pruny.” He stated and held up his wrinkling hand; a shy smile appeared on his plush lips as you laced your fingers with his.

You hummed and tucked a couple of the damp curls that had fallen into his face behind his pointy ears, “Shall I suggest continuing this on that massive fucking bed sitting in the middle of a room that’s bigger than my apartment?”

Lando chuckled and ghosted a soft, heart-racing kiss to your pursed lips as he reached for the towel he’d set out for himself, “It’s stupid how massive it is,” He bashfully confessed, wrapping your shivering body up and guiding you out to the warm bedroom.

“It’s… Lavish and maybe a little silly.”

There was comfortable silence as you glanced around the room again, noticing the pile of clothes that Lando had been kicking around on your call yesterday, “Yeah, sorry about the mess. I was gonna clear up but I didn’t expect you to get in so early tonight – I'm bad with time zones and all that shit.”

“Well you have a lot to keep track of with all the travelling so that’s understandable and don’t worry about the clothes, my floor is ten times worse than this.”

There was something familiar in the way you soothed his nerves and made his anxieties melt away with your words. He liked that about you, that no matter what stupid thing he’d said or done, you were either backing him up or affectionately ribbing him before mollifying his worries.

“Can’t wait to see it in person soon,” Lando blurted out, not even thinking about whether that was something you wanted or if your reassuring words warranted that intense of a response.

But you smiled and nodded, again, easing his blushing cheeks that were still burning from his high only minutes ago. There was a comfortable silence as you stood up from the end of the bed and let him bury you in one of the big, fluffy robes you’d noticed on your way in – the gold italic ‘H’ shining under the down lights as you tied the belt up, watching Lando do the same.

“Very soon, I hope.”

You sealed the promise with a kiss to his bottom lip, praying that you could be more than just a stranger he’d met by happenstance. More than an acquaintance who was simply a way to pass the time while he was away from home. Away from his creature comforts.

And if he did need you in his life like you needed him, then you definitely wanted to be his friend. Maybe more.

Lost In Japan Lando Norris

a//n – really been feeling the lando bug recently so let me know what you thought of this little one-shot! this will actually be the last of the #monzamashspecial celebrating 700 followers and funnily enough, i just passed 1k this morning, i think? so thank you all so much for the support. i still have a couple of great suggestions that i will get to next so keep an eye for that x masterlist | askbox

ishi091
2 years ago

Coming Soon!

Coming Soon!

If you want to be tagged, let me know!! Read Mingyu's Here

ITS BEEN POSTED!!

ishi091
2 years ago

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

ix. i'm so sick of running as fast as i can

— the one where they painted you out to be bad (so it's okay that you're mad).

warnings: fair warning you're going to be pissed, foul language, this one has more media between text and it's a little long. 2.3k words (+articles and a very long youtube thing!!)

currently playing: it's time to go by taylor swift!

masterlist ✢ next

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

By Alana Blake

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

YOU read it here first, friends. #YNCHARLES is still going strong even after the mess y/n found herself in during the Spanish Grand Prix weekend.

Rumor had it that after y/n's declarations where she said 'it was not serious' and 'she was just having fun', the Monegasque heartthrob dumped her immediately. This was fueled by the fact that we didn't see any pictures of them together during such weekend.

But sources have come to the rescue, letting us all know they're not broken up! "They talk every day for hours," our source said, "Both are still trying to keep it fun but more lowkey after everyone found out about the cheating."

RELATED: Victoria Presley's top five beauty hacks.

You would think that after a partner refers to you as a 'toy', dumping them is the best course of action, but apparently that doesn't apply to Mr. Leclerc who has "nothing but good things to say about y/n".

"He's excited to see her in New York before the Canada Grand Prix, they have it all planned out since she has her apartment back." The source added.

One thing is for sure, if we see y/n at the next Grand Prix, that's the big confirmation that they are together, since they blew their Elix cover by forcing them to end the contract.

SEE ALSO:

→ Victoria Presley's inauguration after party at the Grand Havana Room, you just had to be there.

→ Taylor Swift defends y/n y/ln: ''All of you have learned nothing!"

→ Aidan Kim on Charles Leclerc: "Never heard of him until my girlfriend cheated on me"

𝙂𝙊𝙏 𝙎𝙊𝙈𝙀𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝘼𝙔? 𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙈𝙀𝙉𝙏 𝘽𝙀𝙇𝙊𝙒!

You're seeing the top comments.

Anonymous – 4 hr ago

They're both so shameless! and charles was liking tweets saying they were friends like he could really trick us.

kollhha – 3 hr ago

I hate her, Charles dump her ass for the love of god.

adriennewells – 40 min ago

no but seriously what is it about y/n that has men brainwashed?

Anonymous – 10 min ago

They WOULD be cute together, i don't think they're dating though.

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.
DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.
DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

June 10th, Los Angeles, California

You fit your life for the past months into two suitcases, and a carry on. Your room at Vic's house is messy and it feels strangely empty without your discarded shoes and dirty laundry on the floor. But it's time to go, you cannot impose your presence in this enormous house anymore. You have felt like an intruder since you started traveling to Formula 1 and coming back every week like this is your hotel and not your best friend's home.

"Are you really going back to New York?" Vic asks from behind you, voice low with sadness.

"Yes, Vic, I have to." you sigh, turning to meet her. She's dressed up in her fucsia workout gear, holding a light ring in her left hand and her phone in the right. Your flight leaves in the evening and you were hoping to have a meal with Vic before parting to the airport, but it looks like she's all booked.

"No you don't," she argues, entering the room. "Hollywood is here, y/n why do you need to go back to New York? You're an actress!"

You feel like a lot of things, except for an actress right now.

"I don't think Hollywood wants me right now, Vic," you say, going back to the unmade bed to lie down. You asked the cleaning lady if she could leave your room for last so you could finish picking your stuff up, and she agreed gently. "Plus, I really miss New York."

"y/n you haven't even visited my store, you can't go!" Vic's tone changes in octave, and it's not her whiny 'please don't do this' tone you're so used to. "I asked you for ONE favor and you're running to New York and you can't do even just that?"

"Woah, Vic, what the fuck?" you use your elbows as support to lean up and look at her. "Calm down. It's okay." you know her tantrum comes from the fact that she truly believes you could boost her beauty line sales and make her store a 'hot spot'. And it would work, for the wrong reasons. You don't want Vic being dragged down into this mess too. Mati and Charles are enough casualties.

"NO IT'S NOT!" Victoria is full-on yelling now, the light ring has been tossed aside. "I have given everything you've asked from me in the past months since your life started falling apart. I think I deserve something in return."

You ignore the bite of her words. She's angry, which is understandable to some level. She doesn't mean it, right? That she always expected something in return.

"Vic, listen, I know how important your store is to you. But I promise you, you don't want the attention I'm bringing to anyone close to me right now."

"Oh, so you're doing this for my own good now?" she scoffs, ponytail flying in the air as she turns around. "Are you fucking Charles Leclerc for his own good too? Or do men's reputations don't matter?" she spits.

You halt completely, halfway out of the mattress. "What did you say?"

"Oh, please y/n. You really want me to believe you don't want to be seen with me to 'protect me'" she throws the quotations in the air, "And yet you went on your pretty vacation with that bitch Matilde, and you talk to fucking Charles Leclerc every day!"

"Victoria, stop," your brain is a mix of anger, sadness and confusion. You’re having trouble catching up to the where the conversation is going. "That was different, Vic. In case you haven't noticed, things can't stop getting worse. My life is not good right now." You choke on the last words, because it's the first time you say such things out loud. You have never been more miserable.

Victoria scoffs yet again, and it’s a tear in your heart. She's really not backing off. "Of course your life isn't good y/n wah, wah. You have money and beauty and a pilot boyfriend, it sucks so much to be you!"

"Why are you so bothered about it? Why is Charles the main problem here?" you wipe the tears from your cheeks, scratching the skin with one of your rings. "Why the fuck are you acting like this?"

Everything was alright this morning at breakfast, when you reminded her you were leaving and your luggage was almost done. When you thanked her for taking you in and told her you could never really repay her support.

"Because you get everything you want all the time!" Victoria stomps to you, her face inches away when she stops. "You always get what you want no matter what. It didn't even matter that I said you view him as a fucking piece of meat! He still went after you."

The world moves in slow-motion as her words cascade on you. Your lungs close and your throat tightens again, and you want to fight the panic attack because you just know Victoria is not going to help you. How could she? If she's the one who betrayed you.

"How–Why–" you stutter, the hem of your shirt on your fist. You can fight this. "How could you do this to me?"

Victoria finally comes to the realization of what she let out, and covers her mouth. "y/n no– look–"

"Who told you about the ring?" your jaw is locked and you're trying not to lose focus. "How could you tell them about the ring?!"

"How could you not tell ME?! I'm your fucking best friend, you bitch!" she's raising her voice again, her surprise pushed aside because you're still fighting. "I had to find out through Aidan, months later."

The Cannes party. Of course.

You thought about asking her about it. Telling her it hurt you that she hung out so happily with Aidan when he was the reason you arrived at her house one night in February, frightened, sad, and confused. But you didn't because you trusted her. You would have trusted Victoria with your life at some point.

"It really is you, then," tears are streaming down your face again.

You feel stupid because only yesterday, in another rage-scroll through Twitter, you noticed people were already making theories about how it was Victoria who was selling information about you. And you felt so offended, how could they think your best friend would do that to you?

"How could you, Victoria? How could you make all that shit up?"

You talked to Victoria about the articles. You cried and told her you were sorry you didn’t let her in on the failed proposal, it was something you were still processing and couldn’t bring yourself to talk about, still wondering if it had been a mistake every now and then. You told her how sorry you felt to Charles because he just wanted to hang out with you—to be friends with you—and people marked him down as a home wrecker when he had nothing to do with it.

“It was definitely Mia though, wasn’t it?” She said as she rubbed your back and passed the box of tissues to you. “She always hated you, so weird. It was like she loved Aidan in a fucked up way.” Victoria even shuddered exaggeratedly, trying to make you laugh.

“Yeah I’m sure it was Mia, Aidan just won’t admit it.” You let her wipe your tears and smooth your hair down. Nobody could convince you that your ex-sister-in-law didn’t run to People and spewed shit. It was the most logical conclusion that Aidan was protecting his little sister.

This had been three days ago, she lied and made fun of you, to your face.

"So now I'm a liar? You are fucking Charles Leclerc! Or what, you expect me to believe all you do is hold hands and peck each other's cheeks?"

Again with Charles, it infuriates you.

"You told the press I'm a cheater! And I am NOT with Charles, God you're so stupid!"

"How would I know whether it's true or not? You never tell me anything anymore, do you? You don't care about me! I'm your best friend. I deserve to be your priority!"

"You deserve to rot in hell, you lying bitch." you don't even raise your voice anymore, "How could I ever love you?"

Victoria laughs, and your heart finally shatters. "I would do it again, y/n, because it's what you forced me to do."

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.
DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

The apartment is a mess, and you know it's on purpose. Your clothes are everywhere, the dirt from the plants you kept on the balcony is all over the floor, the coffee table is broken and your room looks like a hurricane passed through. Your coffee maker and your Specialty coffee both lie on the floor of the kitchen, and there is a horrible smell coming from the fridge. Aidan hasn't been gone long enough for things to rot to that extent, especially because every appliance is plugged in.

You don't want to look at the rest of the house, or your belongings. All you do is lean down to pick up your Moka pot, and make time to think, but you're unable to stand straight again. It's like the pain is pulling you down. How did your life become this?

A ruined apartment, a rejected engagement and a backstabbing best friend are things that happen in the movies. You would know. This wasn't supposed to happen to you.

Crying in that ruined kitchen, holding a Moka pot like it's your greatest treasure and not some piece of trash that you will never be able to use anymore, you get angry, furious. Because this is not your life and it was never supposed to be. And it's about time you start doing something about it.

You are sick of running. Of having people question you for not 'defending' yourself when you have no reason to be attacked in the first place. Relationships die, and yours had been past its time to be buried. Saying no is not a crime. And it never will be.

Victoria had burned her own thread with you in the worst way possible because you didn't make her the only person in your life. And you had overlooked every time you felt used by her, unloved, and tossed aside. Friends can break your heart too, and Victoria had ripped yours out of your chest.

Nobody has to tell you who you are, because you know. And you are nothing of what you've let tabloids, netizens and reporters say. You cannot keep running and you cannot keep hiding, and though you wish you had understood that earlier. It's never too late to pick yourself up.

Mildred and Walter are going to be pissed, but their advice was that you remained lowkey for however long it took Hollywood to get their next big scandal. Weeks, months, years.

And you're not about to scurry away into darkness like a rat.

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

FROM “JUST WATCH THIS” POSTED IN Y/N Y/LN'S YOUTUBE CHANNEL POSTED JUNE 12TH

[y/n,minute 01:30]: ❝...So I've finally decided to come here and tell you everything that has been happening for the past months. It's the truth, but whether you believe it is a personal choice.❞

[y/n,minute 05:56]: ❝It was a three-year dead-end relationship. You cannot, and should not, have a future with someone who laughs at your dreams, and tells you how you should behave and how to look to exalt him.❞

[y/n, minute 07:15]: ❝I said no. And I have not regret it for one second. I didn't tell anyone because I respect Aidan, although I don't think that is reciprocal by now.❞

[y/n, minute 10:01]: ❝I never cheated on him, and I know the source of those rumors. It breaks my heart to know that someone I trusted made up stuff about myself, and a part of my life that was so important to me. I am not telling you who it was, however, I will take legal action against them if the defamation continues.❞

[y/n, minute 14:54]: ❝Aidan decided to tell this person about our failed engagement, and I do not know if his intention was that this all became public. But I wish he'd been mature enough to handle it privately, like the adults we both are.❞

[y/n, minute 16:59]: ❝I started attending Formula 1 races because of an Ambassador contract I held with Elix until three days ago, when they decided to rescind it.❞

[y/n, minute 18:07]: ❝That's where I met both Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, back in April. Since they are the drivers for Ferrari, we spent a lot of time in the same place, which led to us becoming friends.❞

[y/n, minute 19:04]: ❝Charles Leclerc is my friend and we are not romantically involved, I urge you to stop making stuff up about him too. He never messed with my past relationship, we did not know each other.❞

[y/n, minute 21:55]: ❝When all of this started, I believed—naively— that it could just die down on its own. I am an actress. I was not only 'Aidan Kim's girlfiend' and I am not only his ex-girlfriend now. I am y/n y/ln.❞

[y/n, minute 23:31]: ❝I should have spoken sooner. I should have shut everything down the moment I started feel miserable and out of control. But I also know, I was being crucified so badly because I am a woman.❞

[y/n, minute 26:00]: ❝You have made me feel miserable and anxious, I have suffered from panic attacks and sleepless nights. And I'm not saying this to make you all feel bad and regretful, because the one thing you lack the most is empathy.❞

[y/n, minute 28:45]: ❝But I want you all to think that, if it had been the other way around and Aidan hadn't wanted to marry me, you would have said 'he wasn't ready' and you would have let him move on and find "The One" in peace.❞

[y/n, minute 31:35]: ❝If it was Timothee Chalamet—whom I also have a deep appreciation for—doing RomComs and nothing more, you would call it 'his specialty' and never question his talent.❞

[y/n, minute 33:17]: ❝If I was a man, this wouldn't have killed my reputation.❞

[y/n, minute 36:21]: ❝I will not remain quiet anymore while you step on me and diminish my work. I do not owe anything to Aidan Kim except for the drama the past months have brought me.❞

[y/n, minute 38:11]: ❝I'm going to focus on the future. And I am well aware this will be continue to be a topic of conversation, but I am not scared anymore. Because I know who I am and who I can count on.❞

[y/n, minute 40:12]: ❝If it weren't for my fans, who have been fighting my battles so hard, I wouldn't be here either. They're here for me, and I can never repay such pure love.❞

[y/n, minute 42:22]: ❝If you watched up to here, I'm sure you're wondering whether you should believe all of this, and like I said, it's all up to you❞

[y/n, minute 44:50]: ❝I will not be speaking about Aidan Kim again, so I ask you to refrain from asking about him. It's all been said and done, and I'm eager to move on.❞

[END]

You are looking at the all the comments.

aidanbabes WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BITCH EVEN ON

flowerbedkim Oh so now Aidan forced her to be with him? Bullshit. You are never saving your lying ass y/n, fuck you!!!!!

thatbitch123 You are absolutely right y/n if you were a man this wouldn’t have happened it's so sad

ynbabes2 my queen i waited for you to speak for so long!!! WE HAVE TO MOVE ON FROM THIS

leclercstar you all have made this girl's life absolute hell, i hope you never find peace!! I'm glad she's friends with Charles and Carlos.

presleyvibes wait and you thank people but not Vic who let you stay at her house? you're an ungrateful bitch

albstappen I saw her pic with Lily Muni and I just knew she was one of the good ones

ynmybeloved EVERY TONGUE THAT RISES AGAINST YN SHALL FALL

kim41d4an IT'S YOUR WORD AGAINST AIDAN'S YOU CHEATING WHORE

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

June 12th, SoHo, New York.

You are trying to clean the mess around you as best you can. And although you could call someone to help you, sweeping and scrubbing keeps you busy and distracted. The first message you received after posting the video was from Mati a 'proud of you xx, tell me all about it later please!' text that made you take your first deep breath of the afternoon. You made an appointment with a doctor first thing in the morning, you want the panic to go away, you need it to.

Thoughts of how they're destroying you again, calling you a liar and a whore, swarm your brain and you try to toss them in the trash along with your ruined Dolce & Gabbana coat, mysteriously cut up with scissors. You told the truth, and not even the whole of it.

The video is being shown everywhere, you're sure you'll see it tomorrow in Good Morning America where they'll dissect every single move you make and every word that comes out of your mouth.

It's almost 9 pm when you finally stop wiping the apartment down, trying to get rid of every sign that Aidan Kim was ever inside it. It's not true that he paid for the apartment, you picked it yourself and made it a home and then he chose to come and live here, paying the rent once every three to five months. This is your home and you are reclaiming it.

Your phone rings and you take another deep breath before picking it up. Mildred and Walter have resorted to communicate with you through email, so you wonder who it is. Victoria called a few times during the weekend, left voicemails and text messages until you blocked her. Each of them with a new excuse and a more creative way to pin all of what she had done, on you.

It's a FaceTime call from Charles.

"Charlie!" you greet with a smile, before the image of him loads completely. "It's 3 am in Monaco, what the hell are you doing awake?"

Charles shrugs and you notice his bare shoulders, he's shirtless. You're suddenly self-conscious about the way you look. With your hair sticking up from the sweat, your greasy face and ragged shirt. It's a silly worry.

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, and you know he's tired. "I saw your video earlier, but I was doing something else."

"Oh, you saw that."

"I'm proud of you y/n, you are brave for speaking your mind like that. I know it must have taken some effort." Charles moves again and you see his chest, he's already in bed.

"Charles, go to sleep, we can talk about this later," you chuckle, heat is rising to your face.

"I wanted to see you y/n, it doesn't matter what time it is. And I really wanted to tell you I'm glad you posted that video."

"Thank you, Charlie. I should have done it sooner."

"The only one who knows what timing is right for you, is yourself."

"Yeah, I guess so." you sigh, you're exhausted too and you blame it more on the rollercoaster of emotions you've been through than deep cleaning your apartment.

"Are you tired?" he asks, suppressing a yawn.

"No more than you," you retort, but can't help yawning as well. It's a scientific fact that yawns are contagious. "Go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow."

You talked yesterday too, and the day before, and you cried so much on the phone again you thought he would eventually hang up until you calmed down. But Charles soothed you through the phone at 1 am Monaco time and told you to let it all out, and listened without interrupting you once how you called Aidan and Victoria every name in the book.

"Fine," Charles says, rubbing his left eye carelessly. "Will you give me a tour of your apartment tomorrow, then?"

"Yes! I finished cleaning it today!"

Charles laughs softly at your excitement. “We’ll talk tomorrow then, just because you need to sleep.”

“Sure I am the sleepy one,” you roll your eyes and Charles smiles, both dimples showing. “Goodnight Charlie, sweet dreams.” The last part you say it in a slightly mocking tone but Charles doesn’t take it as such, smile widening.

“Goodnight soleil,” he says and waits a few seconds for you to react to your newly given nickname before hanging up, anxious but satisfied.

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.

─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are liking the story so far. We're slowly getting to the y/n redemption. Once again, i really appreciate all of your interactions they mean the world to me. Also check out the series playlist if you haven't♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

if you are not tagged please check your blog settings because tumblr isn't letting me tag you

DELICATE CHARLES LECLERC.
ishi091
2 years ago

Scandalous

summary — people always think the grass is greener on the other side; unfortunately, max is gonna find out that it could not be further from the truth... and certain pilots are more than happy to take care of you and your daughter.

characters: mv, cl, cs, dr, pg etc..

WARNINGS: allusions to cheating/referenced cheating, no hate towards the real persons; this is just an au, and absolutely does not reflect the afformentioned people's views💖

————

Scandalous
Scandalous

gossipoutlet formula 1 driver and two time wdc max verstappen have reportedly called it quits with his long time girlfriend and baby mama, model y/n y/l/n. speculations have long been going around of their breakup due to the model's absence in several of his races, and the driver's evident closeness with kelly. neither parties have given a statement regarding this issue.

username if 1 + 1 = 2, how does verstappen fumble a woman who has realistically, risked everything for him? 😕😕😕

username I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING FISHY WITH HIM LATELY

username y/n is better than me, i would have been knocking on hamilton's door😩

username dw max, you can find someone better than THE y/n 🤥

username streets been saying he's been cozy with k3lly for a while now... excruciating

maxverstappen1 and yourusername has added to their story

Scandalous
Scandalous

maxverstappen1 has added to their story

Scandalous

maxverstappen1 has deleted their story, 3s ago.

Scandalous
Scandalous

liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 1,560,890 others.

yourusername sun's out and i'm hanging out with my best friend☀️🤍

bellahadid prettiest girls in the entire world! missin the both of u🥰

yourusername we miss u too, auntie b <3

bellahadid sending lots of kisses and hugs💋

dualipa wish i could hang out with you guys💖

yourusername 🩶

redbullracing loving the outfits! where are we going mama?

username not redbull trying to do damage control

username dad's side of the family🤢

redbullracing we're also affected by this divorce, ma'am🤕

scuderiaferrari exciting days ahead, and a sweet sweet ride back there😉

username PEEP CHARLES IN THE LIKES YO

Scandalous
Scandalous

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 1,790,070 others.

yourusername ça va?

charles_leclerc êtes-vous même réel? (are you even real?)

danielricciardo i couldn't pull off pink and green even if i tried🫠

f1wags please pick me next

carlossainz55 😍

username now we wait and watch the homies trickle in her dms...

username max was just holding up the line😂

username i wouldn't cry for any man too, queen

ishi091
2 years ago

surprise.

f1 au: in which, y/n works for ferrari’s pr team, fans have noticed how close she was to carlos and started to ship them. without knowing that they were hiding a huge secret…

carlos sainz x reader

fc: jamila strand

note: english isn’t my first language so i apologise in advance for the mistakes this might have xx

Surprise.
Surprise.
Surprise.

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 456 008 others.

y/n: lil summer dump before going back to work!

_

charles_leclerc: you can’t even tell that i was there too, y/n you just broke my heart

y/n: @.charles_leclerc all the pics i took of you were terrible (according to you) and you begged me to delete them (i didn’t btw)

carlossainz55: damn who’s the hottie on the 2nd slide?

landonorris: 👀

alex_albon: 👀

danielricciardo: 👀

georgerussell63: 👀

maxverstappen1: 👀

y/n: i’m seriously going to block them all.

fan1: this comment section is hilarious

fan2: no but NO ONE is going to talk about y/n casually posting carlos?

fan3: we need more carlos x y/n content

Surprise.
Surprise.
Surprise.
Surprise.
Surprise.
Surprise.
Surprise.

liked by y/n, landonorris, alex_albon and 1 008 890 others

carlossainz55: today i married my soulmate, after three years together we finally said yes to each other. i swore to always love you, protect you, respect you and cherish you no matter what. i can’t believe you agreed to marry someone like me, i don’t even think that i deserve such an amazing woman. but you’re mine and i’m yours, till my last breath. i love you miss sainz, can’t wait to see lil sainz running around and bullying lando and charles.

_

y/n: i don’t know what i did in my past life to deserve such a loving man, but i’ll take it. i love you too lover boy <3

liked by carlossainz55.

landonorris: bold of you to think that i’ll babysit your future demons

charles_leclerc: lando is a better babysitter than me anyway

fan1: THEY GOT MARRIED????

fan2: THEY WERE DATING FOR THREE YEARS???

fan3: someone pls check on that user on twitter that made that whole thread about them

fan4: OMG OMG OMG THATS SO CUTE

fan5: parents for real

fan6: the girls being y/n’s bridesmaids 🥹

fan7: y/n is my sofia richie

ishi091
2 years ago

Hi! I was wondering if you could do female driver and her side of the garage shenanigans. Like her and her team just being besties and entertaining. Love your work can’t wait to see what you do next!

MONTE-CARLO MADNESS

Hi! I Was Wondering If You Could Do Female Driver And Her Side Of The Garage Shenanigans. Like Her And

pairings: f1 grid x driver!reader

warnings: swearing. slight slander of two dutchmen (nothing too serious). mention of checo’s quali crash last year.

author's note: i was bored during the race so i wrote this :) I know it’s not exactly what you asked, but it does include more of her and marco 💜 (also, I know that gif is from 2021, but it was too beautiful not to use lol)

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''Y/N!'' A hand on her shoulder pulled her attention away from her conversation with her engineer, and to the older German man next to her. ''Norbert! Hey, how are you?''

''I'm in Monaco!'' He exclaimed, pulling the young woman in a hug.

The driver's face broke out in a smile, endeared by Norbert's excitement over being in the foreign country. ''Yeah, you are!'' She laughed, her face resting on his shoulder.

''Can I get a hug too?''

Her eyes widened as she recognised the voice, pulling away from the older man, she was met with the bright smile of Sebastian. ''Seb!''

Y/N almost jumped into her mentor's arms, delighted to see him for the first time in months. ''What are you doing here? You didn't tell me you were coming.'' She held an accusing but disbelieving tone, shocked to see him in Monte-Carlo out of all races.

''Surprise!'' He joked, holding up his arms as if it were a surprise party.

The woman slapped his arm in return. ''When did you get here?'' She asked him, still in shock about the former driver's appearance.

''Just now, my dad and Fabian got here yesterday- I came by car.'' Sebastian answered, pointing at his father who was busy catching up with the Aston Martin team.

''Of course you did,'' Y/N chuckled at the mention of his transport, ''are you staying here the entire weekend?''

The German shook his head. ''No, just today- Stefano invited me, I'll be there for the driver's briefing, though.'' He clarified, pouting at the flash of disappointment in her eyes.

''That's nice, everyone will be happy to see you.'' She was slightly let down about his one-day visit, having hoped he would at least watch qualifying on Saturday.

Sebastian nodded. ''Yeah, it will be nice to see all the drivers again.''

''You know,'' Y/N spoke up, catching his attention, ''retirement doesn't really suit you- I think you should come back.'' She smirked, a mischievous grin on her face.

The older man let out a chuckle, shaking his head. ''I put on some nice clothes for you today, I'm hurt.'' He feigned to be hurt by her words, an overdramatic pout hanging on his lips.

''It's definitely better than the usual attire, for sure.'' The driver glanced his outfit up and down, the man wearing blue pants and a white loose shirt.

Sebastian simply laughed, scratching his voice. ''So, uh, how are you feeling about the race?'' He asked her.

Y/N unsurely nodded her head, not too confident. ''The car felt good today so I think there's a good chance for pole.'' The first free practice of the GP had gone well, taking the second top spot right before Lewis.

''Well, I'm quite confident you're gonna take pole.'' Sebastian retorted, matter-of-factly.

The young woman snorted at his response. ''Thanks, I'll keep that in mind when I'm in the car.''

The German patted her shoulder. ''I hope you win,'' he confessed, a serious expression on his face, ''I like Max, but the Dutch anthem is not to my taste.'' Sebastian grinned

''You won last year. Who says you can't do it again or at least make it onto the podium?'' He didn't expect an answer out of her, he just wanted her to feel more confident in herself and especially at a circuit she had consecutively done well at.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. ''Last year, I got lucky with Checo's crash during quali and with the Ferrari strategy. The Red Bulls are way too fast, Seb. I'll be happy with a podium.''

The young driver knew a win would be practically impossible if either one of the RBR cars made it in front of her in qualifying. The previous year, she managed to qualify P3 behind the two red cars and due to Ferrari's disaster class, she was the first to take the chequered flag.

''But you still held up the Red Bulls last year, you're being too negative.'' Sebastian argued, discontent about her certainty that she wouldn't win again.

''It's whatever, anyway- I have to discuss some things with Marco. I'll see you later?'' Y/N made the move to leave, sticking out her fist.

Sebastian bumped his fist against hers. ''Yes, Turn that frown upside down, Y/N!'' He yelled after her as she walked away, resulting in a joking middle finger from the young woman.

Hi! I Was Wondering If You Could Do Female Driver And Her Side Of The Garage Shenanigans. Like Her And

''What's the best time now? I have one more lap in me, if I need to.'' Y/N asked her engineer over the radio, on an out lap.

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds. ''Uh, the leaderboard is very chaotic right now, it changes every time a driver crosses the line.''

''Who is on top now?''

''De Vries.''

''Are you fucking serious?''

She knew Monaco qualifying would be absolute madness, but an Alpha Tauri on top of the leaderboard? She was not expecting that.

''Push for one more lap- we're safe, but everything is changing very fast.'' Marco encouraged her to do one more flying lap, wanting to be confident they made it into the next round of qualifying.

Y/N was the last car on the circuit starting her last lap right before the time of the quali session ran out. She had the fastest second sector and crossed the line, moving up to P2 and being safe from elimination.

''We're good, nice job!'' Marco complimented her, confirming that she made it into Q2.

''He he, that was a little scary.''

Hi! I Was Wondering If You Could Do Female Driver And Her Side Of The Garage Shenanigans. Like Her And

''You gotta push like a beast now, Y/N! Verstappen on pole now and no one is behind you.'' Marco's words sounded over the radio, doing his best to hype her up as this was their last chance to take the pole position.

''Copy.'' She simply answered, before starting her flying lap.

''Y/L goes faster than Verstappen in the first sector. Look at how she's pushing the car to its limits! It's absolutely unbelievable!'' Crofty's voice boomed through the speakers.

''A purple second sector as well! Is Y/L going to take her first pole position in Monaco? She's very close!'' Ted continued, his eyes glued to the big screen.

''UNBELIEVABLE STUFF! Y/N Y/L TAKES THE POLE POSITION HERE IN MONACO! SHE SURPASSES THE RED BULL OF MAX VERSTAPPEN TO SET THE FASTEST TIME! WHAT A PERFORMANCE BY THE TALENTED YOUNG WOMAN! WHAT A LAP!'' The commentators couldn't believe it as they saw her name rising to the very top of the leaderboard, not expecting her to set a better time than the Red Bull car.

''YOU DID IT! POLE POSITION, Y/N! YOU DROVE LIKE A MANIAC!'' Marco shouts over the radio, trying his best to give his congrats as their entire team jumps around him.

Her eyes widened as she took in the news. ''I'M ON POLE? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? WOOOOO!!! MONACO BABY!'' The driver loudly exclaimed, so loud that her team had to remove their headphones from their ears.

''Guys, I'm so proud of all of you! Everyone worked so hard and this is for the entire team, thank you so much!'' Y/N expressed her appreciation for her team, knowing she couldn't have done it without them.

She made it to Parc Fermé and parked behind the No. 1 standee, already seeing Charles and Max there. It took her some time to get out of the car as it was difficult to turn everything off with shaking hands.

The young woman stood on top of her car and threw her hands in the air, pointing at her team who cheered for her- along with the crowd who went crazy at the sudden turn of events.

She ran to her team, immediately hugging Marco upon spotting him at the front of the fence. ''I told you to drive like a beast, not a maniac!'' He laughed, patting her back.

''I don't remember anything from that lap, I think I blacked out.'' Y/N told him, pulling away from him and shaking the hands of the rest of the team.

Charles was the first one of the drivers to congratulate her. ''That was crazy, congrats.'' The former Prema teammates hugged each other.

''Thanks, it was absolute chaos out there,'' she sighed, taking off her helmet and balaclava, ''I know you wanted a different result, but you still did well.'' The younger one told the Ferrari driver who simply brushed it off.

''You fucker!'' A sudden slap on her arm, took her focus off Charles. ''How did you do that?''

She found the smiling face of Max, holding out his hand for a typical driver's greeting. ''Dude, I don't know! I for sure thought it was over for me.'' She told him, a shocked expression still on her face.

''Congrats, you deserve it.'' The Dutchman praised her, a genuine tone found.

Y/N nodded her head at him. ''Thanks, appreciate it.''

''It's the three of us again.'' The Red Bull driver laughed, pointing at the three of them as it was also the same trio in Baku, just a different order.

Charles sighed. ''I have to meet with the stewards after the interviews so I don't know if I'm gonna stay at P3.'' He told them, confusing the two other drivers.

''What do you mean?'' Y/N asked him.

''Lando was on a flying lap and I got in his way- in the tunnel.'' The Monégasque explained, informing them on the unfortunate moment.

Max frowned. ''That's not good, no. You didn't saw him coming?''

''The team didn't tell me.'' Charles answered, holding in the urge to roll his eyes.

''They didn't tell you that Lando was coming? That's fucked up.'' The youngest one said, puzzled on why this even happened in the first place.

The Ferrari driver shook his head. ''I'm gonna get a penalty for a mistake I didn't make.'' The defeated look on Charles' face upsetted both of his competitors, disappointed that the Monaco curse had found its way to him again.

A silence fell upon them, not knowing what to say as the three of them were all feeling very different emotions after the chaotic qualifying session.

''Well, I'm gonna grab my award.'' Y/N sheepishly smiled, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

The two men nodded at her as she walked away, but she turned around as a thought came into her brain. ''Oh and Charles?''

''Yes?''

''Tell them it was just an inchident.''

Hi! I Was Wondering If You Could Do Female Driver And Her Side Of The Garage Shenanigans. Like Her And

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ishi091
2 years ago

꒰꒰ ‧₊˚𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ─ 𝐂𝐋𝟏𝟔 ˚₊· ꒱꒱

─ summary . . . ❨ charles goes on buzzfeed to read thirst tweets about him? no more like about his amazing girlfriend and their sex life ❩ ─ pairing . . . ❨ charles leclerc x fem! gf! reader ❩ ─ genre . . . ❨ social media file ❩ ─ warnings . . . ❨ sexual references, dirty jokes, thirst comments, no actual smut though ❩ ─ author note . . . ❨ requested by anon "Hello! Can I request a Charles social media au where he does BuzzFeed thirst tweets and most of the tweets are about his gf and the other about their sexual life and he's very cheeky and shy but also very shocked at the tweets." okay so this fic is being released early as a thank you for 400 followers once again that you so much! enjoy ❩

❨ taglist | masterlist ❩

INTERVIEW :: CHARLES LECLERC READS THIRST TWEETS

ishi091
2 years ago

THE LUCKY GIRL — charles leclerc

charles leclerc x fem!reader

# summary — in which charles gets constantly asked about his new girl during interviews but the one he truly wanted stood right beside him

❪ pt. 1 ❫

THE LUCKY GIRL Charles Leclerc
THE LUCKY GIRL Charles Leclerc
THE LUCKY GIRL Charles Leclerc

“CHARLES WHO IS THE LUCKY GIRL YOU’RE SEEING?” that question made y/n’s heart stop for seemingly longer than a few seconds. she felt a burning touch to her chest and a tight ache, as if someone was squeezing her heart with all their force, leaving her breathless and startled.

as his media manager, she had tried with every bone in her body to redirect the fan’s unnecessary heartbreak by posting more content of the two racers, charles thankfully having complied after a heartwarming speech. but as his close friend, as someone who fancied him, y/n had been getting more flirtatious with him on the media to stop the fan’s from believing he would get with another girl.

perhaps it was selfish of her to toy with him like that, express her emotions of dismay and attraction to him on the internet by joking, whilst he didn’t have a clue. y/n had to remind herself that charles was too occupied to worry about reading in between the lines, to notice her.

she fiddled with her camera in her hand, almost feeling the tears of frustration rushing to her eyes as she faced only hundred more pictures of his face, his contagious smile staring back at her. he had no clue how he affected her… the woman could only stand beside him and pretend to not listen to what he was saying and save herself from the heartbreak, which she couldn’t for she loved to hear the melody of his gentle voice.

charles furrowed his eyebrows, different possibilities and answers running through his head. the woman beside me, she is the one i want, the one i want to give all my love to. but that was left as wishful thinking only, his mouth opening after a few seconds of overthinking, “it depends on the answer you want to hear, what has been fed to you, or the honest truth.” he paused, briefly looking at y/n to get some confirmation that he hadn’t said anything wrong yet, though she wasn’t paying attention to him in the slightest, but rather the camera in her hand. an object that he looked forward to see each morning he awoke, an object that connected him to the woman beside him.

“the truth please, charles.” the interviewer responded.

said monégasque prepared himself to admit something to the world that he hadn’t even told his best friend, pierre. all because he was afraid. he was too scared to lose someone that he had grown to adore over the past one and a half years, someone who understood him better than he did himself, who made his heart appear to want to jump out of his chest each time she smiled at him. charles was scared to lose y/n, and what he was about to say could probably cause that.

the brunet pressed his lips together, taking a few seconds to think of the best way to word his feelings, “i am not seeing anyone at the moment, no.” he watched as y/n stopped pressing some buttons on the camera that he had yet to ask her what they were necessary for, eager to hear her rant about something she was passionate about. charles was aware she had been listening the whole time, that was her job after all, to make sure he said the right thing so she wouldn’t need to worry about the internet later, so he made sure that he had completely gained her attention to continue on.

“but,” he breathed, in contrast to y/n who seemed to had lost all the air in her lungs, anxious to find out what he had to say, “i do have my eyes set on a very brilliant woman, who i hope to introduce to the world in the future.”

y/n was pretty sure she was gonna cry any given second, the tears already gathering on the bottom of her eyelid, but when she felt the driver beside her inch closer to her body, his warmth consuming her intoxicatingly, she snapped her head towards him and was met with a grinning face. charles was biting his lip in excitement, trying to contain his enormous grin as the adrenaline pumped through his blood whilst one of his arms that was hidden by his large frame sneakily positioned itself behind her back.

for the first time in her life, y/n’s face flushed giddily. the interviewer was too occupied with charles’ answer to notice the interaction, and the pair was relieved about that. they didn’t drag it on with the interviews as charles pardoned himself to go back to his room, the woman he adored in front of his physique as he led her away with his hands on her hips.

when the door shut and they were hidden from the public eye, charles and y/n chuckled, the small laughs soon turning into knee hunching, belly laughter. what they were laughing about they weren’t even sure themselves but in that moment nothing mattered as they acted like teenagers who had stolen their parents’ stashed liquor, too high on adrenaline to have the ability to form any sentences.

sharing a moment with her like that was good for charles. the monégasque hadn’t laughed that much in a while but he was glad it was her who got him to act like himself again. at the realization, he stopped laughing and observed her wipe away a few tears that had escaped from her eyes from laughing too hard, small chuckles leaving her mouth while his steps inched closer to her as his hands found their home back on her face.

“y/n.” he whispered, the neediness for her attention lacing through his voice, “would it scare you if i kissed you now?”

said woman’s smile only widened by the second, “yes.” y/n spoke truthfully, like she always had been with charles ever since they first met, “but i really need you to kiss me right this instant, c.”

that was enough said for him as he leaned down, shutting his eyes in pleasure as their soft lips connected, the string surrounding them tying their bodies closer together. charles barely caught a glimpse of her face as he kissed the woman so urgently, fulfilling his desire that he held back for so long, ever since that event they had first laid their sights on each other, when he desperately waited for her to approach him for he was too shy to, when his heart thumped in happiness when she finally did.

y/n felt the soft tickle of his warm breath on her face, having to hold herself back from giggling as she met his desire with an equal amount of need. all she could focus on in that moment was him. the future wasn’t secure and if she didn’t enjoy what was given to her now, y/n would most definitely be regretful of it later on. but she didn’t want to regret charles ever, so she made sure that he felt her as much as she felt him.

ishi091
2 years ago

SLIPS & AÇAÍS — charles leclerc

charles leclerc x fem!reader

# summary — in which charles’ girlfriend is a menace on the internet and the fans are obsessed with it

SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc
SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc
SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc
SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc
SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc
SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc
SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc
SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc

ynusername

SLIPS & AAS Charles Leclerc

liked by pierregasly and 1.836.921 others

ynusername me explaining to bro why he’s gotta find a new girl now 😂

tagged; charles_leclerc

view comments

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