FAVS 4 LANDO NORRIS 6.0

⟡ MASTERLISTS 2 ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ

MASTERLIST - @thebearchives

MASTERLIST - @milaeth

MASTERLIST - @xxblairexxss

MASTERLIST - @povlnfour

MASTERLIST - @racinggirl

MASTERLIST - @charlesluvr

MASTERLIST - @sofs16

MASTERLIST - @edwardslvrr

MASTERLIST - @auggieblogs

MASTERLIST - @lqvesoph

MASTERLIST - @writingstoraes

MASTERLIST - @cartierre

MASTERLIST - @pierregazly

MASTERLIST - @charlesswife

MASTERLIST - @httpiastri

MASTERLIST - @strawberrysainz

MASTERLIST - @uglyducklingofthe2000s

MASTERLIST - @sebscore

MASTERLIST - @norris-lando

MASTERLIST - @gasstationlady

the paths we didn't take (cl16)

part6!

multipart story! part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

Summary : Years ago, Charles Leclerc and Y/N promised to let each other go—for his dreams, for her freedom. No calls, no texts, just memories they buried deep. But when fate reunites them in Monaco, old scars and unresolved feelings resurface. Some loves are unforgettable, but can they find their way back, or is it too late?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Chapter 6: "The Weight of the Past"

The silence stretched between them, the noise of the party fading into an indistinct hum. Y/N’s mind raced, memories and emotions swirling in a chaotic dance. Charles looked just as stunned, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out.

Before either of them could break the tension, a voice called out from behind Charles, cutting through the thick air.

“There you are, babe!”

Y/N blinked, her gaze shifting just as a woman stumbled toward Charles, clearly tipsy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a clumsy embrace. Her laughter was light and carefree, completely oblivious to the charged moment she had interrupted.

“God, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” the woman murmured, leaning up to press a kiss on Charles’s lips. She giggled, her fingers threading through his hair, her hold on him possessive and intimate.

Charles didn’t immediately respond, his eyes flickering back to Y/N, still caught in the gravity of their unexpected reunion. But the woman didn’t seem to notice, her attention fully on him as she whispered something inaudible, her lips brushing against his cheek.

Y/N’s stomach twisted painfully, the weight of the scene before her crushing. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, her heart pounding in her chest as she took an instinctive step back. Her eyes burned, the sting of unshed tears threatening to spill over.

“I—” Y/N stammered, the words catching in her throat. She needed to get out, needed air, needed distance.

Charles reached out, as if to stop her, but his movement was slow, hesitant. His girlfriend clung to him, unaware of the silent storm brewing between them.

Y/N forced a tight smile, the mask of composure slipping into place even as her heart fractured. “It was nice seeing you,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper, before turning on her heel.

She weaved through the crowd, her vision blurred and her chest tight. The laughter and music around her seemed distant, her mind spinning as she hurriedly made her way toward the exit. The night air hit her like a shock, cool and crisp, but it did little to ease the storm inside.

She didn’t look back.

----

Charles stood frozen, his mind reeling from what had just happened. Y/N. After all these years, she had been right there, in front of him, and then gone just as quickly. His heart raced, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind, struggling to process the whirlwind of emotions crashing over him.

“Charles, are you even listening to me?” his girlfriend’s slurred voice cut through his haze. She tugged at his arm, pouting when he didn’t immediately respond.

“Huh? What?” Charles blinked, his gaze shifting to her, but his mind was still miles away, replaying Y/N’s shocked expression, the way her voice had trembled when she said his name.

“I said, let’s go get another drink,” she whined, pulling him toward the bar, nearly stumbling in her heels. “You’re acting weird.”

Charles sighed, trying to shake off the confusion swirling in his chest. “I’m just... thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?” she asked, her tone playful but insistent. “It’s a party, Charles. Relax! Have fun!” She pressed herself against him, her lips brushing against his neck, but he barely registered the touch.

“Seriously, can you just... give me a minute?” he muttered, stepping back slightly, but she clung on tighter, refusing to let go.

“A minute? You’ve been so distant all night!” she protested, her words slurring. “What’s wrong with you? You’re not even looking at me.”

“I’m just—” Charles ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He needed space, needed to breathe, but she was relentless, her drunk state making her clingier than usual. “I’m fine, just... a lot on my mind.”

She huffed, crossing her arms in a pout. “A lot on your mind? Like what? This is supposed to be fun, Charles! You’re ruining the vibe.”

Charles’s jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin. “Can you stop for a second? Please?”

She blinked, taken aback by his sudden sharpness. “What’s your problem tonight? You’ve been weird since I found you. Did something happen?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. How could he even begin to explain what had just happened? That he had just come face-to-face with the girl who had once been his entire world? The girl he thought he had moved on from, only to feel everything rush back the moment he saw her again?

“It’s nothing,” he finally said, his voice tight. “Just... drop it, okay?”

His girlfriend frowned, clearly unhappy but too drunk to push further. She reached for her drink, taking a long sip before leaning into him again. “Fine. But you owe me for being such a buzzkill.”

Charles nodded absently, his thoughts already drifting back to Y/N. He could still see her face, the hurt in her eyes as she fled the party. His chest tightened, the weight of their past pressing down on him like a physical burden.

“I need some air,” he mumbled, gently prying her arms off him.

“What? No! You can’t leave me alone!” she whined, grabbing his hand.

“I’m not leaving,” he reassured her, though his mind was elsewhere. “Just need a minute.”

She pouted but relented, slumping onto a nearby couch. “Fine. But hurry back. You owe me a dance.”

Charles nodded, already stepping away, the noise of the party fading into the background. His mind was a mess, emotions swirling as he tried to make sense of everything. Seeing Y/N again had opened a floodgate he hadn’t even realized was still there, and now he was drowning in the memories, the what-ifs, and the unresolved feelings.

He stepped outside, the cool night air hitting him like a balm, though it did little to ease the storm inside. He leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights, his thoughts consumed by the girl who had once been everything to him.

“Y/N...” he whispered into the night, the name tasting familiar yet foreign on his tongue. What had just happened? And why did it feel like his heart was breaking all over again?

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

taglist : @jenxjar @noam-rosier-icr @prttylight @gluecksbaerchieee

@janeh22 @tobucina @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @weekendlusting

@wisestarfishbouquet @ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins

@vyctorya @mel164  @dazecrea @lol6sposts @raynetargaryan2

@ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins @vyctorya @f1fantasys

CLOSE TO THE EDGE MAX VERSTAPPEN

paring max verstappen x childhood friend!reader

SUMMARY you and max have been inseparable since you were kids. you both promised that no matter what happens, you’ll always be there for each other. but when the pressures of max’s racing career and a growing distance between you strain the friendship, you’re both left to find what you really mean to each other. word count 1.9k words

warnings self-criticism, themes of anxiety and stress, angst, jos verstappen

note requested :)

MAIN MASTERLIST MV1 MASTERLIST

THERE WAS SOMETHING nostalgic about the sound of engines revving; how it pulled you back to your childhood, back when life was simple, and the only thing that mattered was Max’s kart circling the track. You sat on the pit wall, the roar of engines around you as familiar as the heartbeat you couldn’t seem to steady.

The air smelled of gasoline and rubber, the sun already hot against your skin, but you were used to it. You had spent too many days like this to mind. From the time you were little, following Max around the karting circuits, this had been home. But it was different now.

Max was different now.

You watched as he climbed out of the Red Bull car, peeling off his helmet to reveal damp, sweaty hair, and an unreadable expression to anyone who hadn’t known him as long as you had. His features were sharper now; chiselled with the kind of confidence that came with years of pushing himself to the limit, of knowing he was the best. But behind his calm exterior, you could see it: the frustration, the constant war with himself to be perfect.

He glanced in your direction briefly, but you knew he wasn’t really seeing you. Not anymore.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when you were the first person he’d come to after every race, win or lose. You’d sit together on the track, the world muted around you, just two kids who didn’t care about the future. But that felt like a lifetime ago now, and you weren’t sure when it changed when the distance between you grew so wide, you didn’t know how to cross it.

You weren’t even sure if he wanted you to.

20 YEARS AGO

“Faster, Max! You’re too slow!” you teased, legs dangling over the barrier as you watched him zoom around the small karting track your families had brought you to for the weekend.

Even at seven years old, Max was serious about racing, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sped past you in his kart. His father, Jos, stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Max’s every move like a hawk.

“I’ll show you slow,” Max shouted back, grinning as he floored the pedal, the little kart shooting forward with a speed that made your heart skip a beat.

You laughed, running to the edge of the barrier to watch him cross the finish line, his face flushed with excitement when he pulled off his helmet.

“Did you see that? I was way faster than last time!” Max exclaimed, running over to you, eyes bright with triumph.

You nodded enthusiastically, always his biggest supporter, even when you didn’t understand the technical details of racing. “Yeah, but you still couldn’t catch me on foot,” you said with a teasing grin, before darting off towards the grassy area behind the track.

“Hey!” Max shouted, chasing after you, both of you laughing until you collapsed in a heap, breathless and grinning under the summer sun. It had always been like this, simple, easy. Max was your best friend, the one constant in your life that you never had to question.

PRESENT DAY

That memory flashed through your mind as you watched Max now, his shoulders tight with tension as he talked to his engineer. You wondered when the last time was that he laughed like that, really laughed, not the polite chuckle he gave to fans or media. You wondered if he’d forgotten how.

The race debrief dragged on, and you shifted on the bench, your eyes flicking towards your phone. You weren’t there for the media, or the race engineers. You were there for Max, but lately, it had started to feel like you were just another fixture in the background of his life, like you had become part of the scenery instead of someone he needed.

You were still deep in thought when you heard his voice, closer now. “Hey,” Max said, but it lacked the warmth it used to have.

You looked up, forcing a smile. “Hey. How was the car?”

“It was fine.” His tone was clipped, distracted, as if his mind was already miles away, focused on the next race, the next challenge.

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. “You’ve got the weekend off after this, right?” you asked, hoping to reignite the friendship, the ease that used to come so naturally between you.

“Yeah,” Max replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve got a couple of media things, but I’ll be free for the most part.”

There was a pause, a beat too long, and you wondered if he was going to ask you to do something, like he used to. Back when weekends off meant go-karting for fun, or late-night drives where you’d talk about anything but racing.

But the invitation didn’t come.

“Good luck with the media stuff,” you said finally, the words falling flat between you.

Max nodded absently, already turning away to speak to someone else, and you were left with the bitter taste of something unspoken in your mouth. The silence between you was louder than the roar of the engines, and you wondered how long you could keep pretending that things hadn’t changed.

12 YEARS AGO

It was the first time you had ever seen Max cry.

You were both fifteen, standing outside the karting track after he had lost a crucial race. It wasn’t even a huge competition, but for Max, every race was an important one. He hated losing more than anything, and you could see the way it ate at him, the disappointment in his eyes when he realized he wasn’t invincible.

“You were still amazing,” you had said, trying to comfort him, but Max just shook his head, his jaw clenched tight.

“No, I wasn’t,” he muttered, kicking at the gravel with his shoe. “I should’ve been faster. I should’ve won.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just stood there, waiting, offering your silent support the way you always did.

It was only when the others had left, when it was just the two of you in the fading evening light, that Max finally let the walls crack. His fists clenched at his sides, and he looked at you with those piercing blue eyes, tears threatening to spill over.

“I can’t keep losing,” he whispered, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. “I have to be the best.”

You hadn’t hesitated. You reached for him, pulling him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around his tense frame. Max resisted for a moment, stiff in your embrace, but then he crumbled, burying his face in your shoulder as the tears came.

“I’m here, Max,” you had whispered into his hair, holding him as tightly as you could. “I’ll always be here.”

PRESENT DAY

You wondered if he even remembered what it felt like to rely on you for support. Now, it felt like you were the one watching from the sidelines while Max barrelled through life at breakneck speed, focused on nothing but the finish line.

The days when he used to confide in you, to trust you with his fears, seemed so far away now.

Later that evening, you sat in your hotel room, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your unspoken thoughts pressing down on you. You couldn’t keep doing this, watching Max drift further and further away, pretending like it didn’t hurt.

The sound of your phone buzzing broke the silence, and you glanced at the screen. It was a message from Max.

Are you free to talk?

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest. It had been a while since he had asked to talk, really talk. You quickly typed back a reply, and a few minutes later, your phone rang.

“Hey,” Max’s voice came through the line, quieter now, almost hesitant. “I just… I don’t know why I called.”

You felt a flicker of hope in your chest. “You don’t need a reason,” you said softly.

There was a long pause, and when Max spoke again, his voice was lower, more vulnerable. “Do you ever feel like… we’re not the same anymore?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the very thing you had been afraid to admit to yourself.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

There was another silence, and for a moment, you were both suspended in it, the weight of years of unsaid words hanging between you.

“I miss how things used to be,” Max admitted, and it was like the walls he had built up over the years were starting to crack, just like they did that day when you were fifteen.

“So do I,” you confessed, your voice barely audible.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Max said, and you could hear the fear in his voice now, the same fear he had when he was fifteen, terrified of not being good enough.

“You won’t,” you promised, the words coming out before you could stop them. “I’m still here, Max. I’ve always been here.”

Max let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were on the same page again, like the distance between you wasn’t so insurmountable after all.

The next few days passed in a blur of media obligations and sponsor events, but there was a shift in the air between you and Max. It was subtle, little things, like the way he sought you out in the crowd, the way he lingered after conversations as if he was afraid of letting you slip away again.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling day, you found yourselves sitting on the balcony of Max’s hotel room, watching the city lights flicker in the distance.

“Remember that time we raced each other on foot after your kart race?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

Max chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, and you tripped and scraped your knee. You wouldn’t stop crying until I gave you my ice cream.”

You laughed, the memory of it warming you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’d still take your ice cream, by the way.”

Max grinned, but then his expression softened, and he looked at you in that way he used to when you were kids; like you were the only person in the world who truly knew him.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “For what?”

“For… everything,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “For letting things get so messed up between us. I didn’t mean to push you away. I just—”

“Max,” you interrupted gently, reaching over for his hand. “You didn’t push me away. I just… I didn’t know how to help you anymore.”

Max squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’ve always helped me, even when I didn’t realize it.”

You held his gaze, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. There was so much you both still needed to say, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were finally on the right track.

“Do you think we can fix this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in years; hope. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”

And for the first time in a while, you believed him.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ MV1 MASTERLIST

The Lucky One (2)

Part 2 (of 2) of The Lucky One | Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: Formula One had been your dream and your goal ever since you were a kid, and you did all you had to in order to achieve it. Between ups and downs, Sebastian becomes a steady presence despite being your complicated frenemy relationship. Until everything comes crashing down. Formula One gives, but Formula One takes.

Word count: 5.5k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, reader is mirrorball coded, coming of age, cursing, romance, both are assholes, smut, +18, complicated feelings, rivals to lovers, crash, major injury, medical innacuracies, bittersweet ending, not beta read; t.w: brief christian horner scene.

Relationship: Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Note: This is fully inspired by the song, and throughout my writing process I realized it also fits mirrorball. This one may require some tissues (especially in part 2). Everything is fictional and I mean no disrespect to Sebastian or his family (they don't exist in this story). I'm sorry it took me forever to come back to it, but there it is, hope I don't disappoint Not proofread. Comments and feedback are welcomed.

Find me on Twitter!

Ending whatever complicated fling was going on with you and Sebastian was the right, rational call, you knew that. But your body, your heart, regretted it every couple of weeks as you laid awake in bed, plagued by memories, need and longing.

You decided to just do your best during that season. You couldn’t fight for the championship anymore, but you still wanted a great season since the following year would be your last in the current contract with Red Bull. A great performance could secure a renewal or even the interest of other teams.

Sebastian and you still saw each other frequently during race weekends, your eyes always finding each other across the crowd. He was consumed with guilt, of having been blinded by his own privileges that he didn’t see the struggle that was being a woman in Formula One. He vowed to never be so far from reality like that ever again.

He wanted to stop you, to talk to you again, to try and fix things, but there was this constant mix of shame and uncertainty about your reaction if he tried reaching out again. Sometimes he would look at you from afar, and he’d see something in your eyes, something that felt like the same longing he had. Some other times, you looked at him like you hated him.

Eventually in the third race to the last in Bahrain, he couldn’t take it anymore. There was this string tugging at his heart, begging to see you and talk everything through. During the Friday afternoon, between Free Practices, he marched around decidedly, looking for you. He walked into the garage and no one seemed to mind his presence as he went straight into your driver’s room. He barged in, not bothering to knock. You were sitting on the couch, drinking Red Bull and going through some papers. You frowned and stood up as you saw him.

“What are you-”

“Stop…” He interrupted with both hands up, “don’t say anything just yet.”

You frowned but didn’t look particularly angry, your frown softening into a stunned silence. Sebastian sighed, breathing slowly, he had a plan and a speech when he was marching there, but now, looking at your face, your pretty eyes, he had lost all sense of reason.

“We’ll talk about everything, rationally, like adults. Okay?” He offered, and you slowly nodded, unsure but also willing to try, “Not now, because the race and everything. But- this monday, okay? After the race, after we get a good night’s sleep. We’ll go to a nice restaurant, and we’ll talk over good food. A real date this time, no hiding anymore,” He said, his words pouring out fast, like he wasn’t truly thinking about what to say, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement, “Monday night?”

“Monday night,” You nodded, no anger in your eyes, just a glimmer of hope.

“Good,” He nodded and just left.

You stood there, speechless, but with a disbelief smile on your face, looking almost silly. Despite the anger you felt the last time you two actually spoke, there was this undeniable magnetic pull between you, and you didn’t seem to be able to be away from him just as he wasn’t able to be away from you.

The whole weekend, you felt that nervous energy, almost bouncing up the walls, you attributed it to the race, but you knew it was more than that. The car had been great the whole week, you qualified P2, your first real possibility of win in a few months, which would be a blast to finish the season winning one of the last races.

You were smiling as you waved to the fans during the driver’s parade, your first hopeful and excited pre-race interview in quite some time. As you put on your gloves and helmet, you couldn’t help but feel some sense of purpose. You would give your very best in that race.

You just didn’t know it would be your last time behind a Formula 1 wheel.

The race was great, it started alright and most of it you kept your P2, even after a failed attempt of undercut, you still managed your P2, but then came the moment, the point of no return in your career, the very moment that changed the trajectory of your life forever.

After turn 15, you had finally managed to catch up to the P1, less than half a second behind him, and despite his car being fast, you could try and overtake him with the DRS. You pushed the fastest you could in the straight, closing and closing the distance, almost succeeding in overtaking, but as the DRS zone ended, you realized you’d have to wait another lap to try again. But then, as you pushed the pedal to brake and slow down into turn 1, the car kept going. So many things happened in the span of mere seconds, but they felt like ages to you.

“I’ve got no brakes,” You said into the radio as you tried braking. Then you tried engine braking and the security system braking. None of it worked.

With quick thinking, you decided to face the turn that way and bear it. You'd probably lose a lot of grip with the rear, but if you hit the curbs it’d help you slow down and just drive to a stop. You kept trying the brake pedals all the way to the turn, when suddenly, the tyres locked up and everything happened really fast.

You weren’t able to turn, the tyres locked and you had no way to slow down the car. All you did was brace as you went full force straight into the barriers, the impact so hard it made your car split in half. You blacked out for a couple of seconds and then came to again, a ringing in your ears as you tried to situate yourself, a mix of excruciating pain and numbness, pulsing hard, almost keeping you in and out of it.

Pain. Numb. Pain. Numb.

You tried to stay awake, hearing your name being called in the distance, the numbness giving each time more space to the excruciating pain but you couldn’t identify where it came from.

“Talk to me! Are you okay?” You were only half aware of the voice in the radio, and you blindly reached for the button with shaky hands.

“H-help,” your voice was shaky, hoarse and so unlike yourself.

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t bring yourself to even reply again, even more aware of the pain now, barely keeping your head up and your eyes opened. Teary eyed, a distant, cold part of you knew it was over. It was over forever.

Then you blacked out.

-

“Sebastian, red flag, red flag,” His engineer called, as if he had not seen all the red flags throughout the circuit.

He drove back to the boxes, hopping off the car as he saw other drivers do the same, he marched into the Ferrari garage, worried.

“Is everyone okay? Who was it?” He asked, as he removed his helmet and balaclava.

The grief faces around him didn’t help, and Sebastian felt a sense of dread as he turned to the closest screen showing the live coverage of the race. The transmission was a helicopter shot of your car into the wall, or a better description would be two piles of wreckage of your car as the marshals rushed towards it. He felt like he could puke, despair spreading through his chest.

“What did she say? What happened?” He asked anyone willing to answer, his eyes glued to the screen. As if on cue, a replay of your crash played out on the screen.

“S-she asked for help. She didn’t reply again after that.” Someone said, somber, and a lump lodged in Sebastian’s throat.

He kept staring at the video, then a replay of your radio also came through, the despair as you realized you had no brakes, the urgency in your engineer’s voice as he asked you to try other means. And the faint “Help” you said after one of the ugliest crashes Sebastian had ever seen. He had never been a religious guy, but at that moment, he prayed. His eyes glued to the screen as the marshals started removing pieces surrounding you and the car, and the ambulance arrived. They started checking you and were about to pull you out of the wreckage.

Then, the cameras were cut off, showing the drivers and everyone in the garages. Sebastian knew that for the transmission to stop showing, it meant the crash was really bad, it meant that however they were pulling you out, it was ugly. Sebastian felt a shiver up his spine as he thought about the possibility they were removing your dead body from there.

With that, he marched out of the Ferrari garage and towards RB, and he found other drivers were already making their way there too, everyone desperate for any news. A few minutes later it was reported that you had been taken by helicopter to the nearest hospital. Sebastian breathed again as they reported you were alive, but unconscious.

The race was interrupted officially a few minutes later, Sebastian and Lewis along with a few other drivers were still waiting by the Red Bull garage for more news on you. Slowly, everyone was sent away when the news came from the hospital that you were hurt, but not in a life threatening situation and you’d stay in the hospital for observation.

That was when Sebastian finally left, a little shaken as he went through his post race duties.

The following morning, after a tossing and turning almost sleepless night, the official representatives confirmed that you were alright but had unfortunately fractured a leg, and would not take part in the remaining two races of the season.

Even after he got news on you, and there was this sense of relief that you’d recover, the knot in his stomach remained, his gut saying that something was off. But he brushed it off, thinking it was just lingering anxiety from the accident.

He wanted to talk to you, see you. He got your number from Lewis and texted you but you never replied and he kept trying. A few days later, Lewis commented with him that you hadn’t replied to his text either. And later they found out you actually had not replied to any of the drivers or anyone from the Formula 1 teams.

After Abu Dhabi, when the season ended, he got a hold of your manager, leaving an office in the Red Bull garage. He stopped her, gently taking a hold of her arm.

“How’s she doing? Do you have any news on her?” He pressed.

“She’s alright, still recovering.”

“Why hasn’t she answered her phone?”

“She’s recovering and took a break from social media and the internet, so she hasn’t been able to communicate well. I’m sure once she’s fully recovered she’ll get back to you.”

“Do you have a home telephone, e-mail or even an address where we can reach her? See her?” He asked, almost desperate.

“I’m sorry. Just give her some time, I’m sure she will come around.”

With that, your manager left quickly, holding a small stack of files with both hands, the “classified” stamp boldly branding it. Sebastian kept trying to contact you, failing miserably each time.

When the Prize Giving ceremony came, he was bouncing with nervous energy, hoping and praying he would get to see you again. If anything, just to know you’re really okay and well. You didn’t show up to the ceremony, but suddenly you were awarded the Personality of the Year award.

Then, your face showed up on the big screen, and Sebastian felt his breath stuck in his throat. It was a simple, regular video of you, you were wearing a pretty dress and your hair was in an up-do. Your face had makeup like you always wore in these kinds of events, pretty eyes and big lashes, and a scarlet lipstick. Your face looked healthy, despite your eyes lacking its usual brightness.

“Hi, everyone!” Came your recorded voice with a smile, “It’s such an honor to receive this award. Thank you to everyone who voted for me and congratulations to all other drivers on the season. I’m well and recovering, and I’m grateful for all the well wishes all of you sent me these past weeks, I truly appreciate them.” Your smile faded almost imperceptibly, but Sebastian noticed as you inhaled softly, like you were resigned to something, “I will take this opportunity to let you know that I’m retiring from Formula 1 from now on. I’m grateful for all the opportunities, all the dreams achieved and the amazing people I got to know and work with. Thank you very much.”

As the video cut off, there was a stunned silence since absolutely no one saw that coming. No one expected you to announce your retirement like this. So suddenly, especially considering you had one more year of contract with your team. And you were also very young, just 28.

The event went on but Sebastian couldn’t move on from your video, from seeing your face and hearing your voice again. He went through the motions for the rest of the night, and at some point, Lewis stopped him to chat about how glad he was that you looked healthy. But Sebastian couldn’t shake off that pit in his stomach.

The following week, once he was done with his postseason duties, he called Lewis and a couple of the drivers you were the closest with. Still, none of them had any news on you, no text, no calls, nothing. He went digging further and found out you lived in Monte Carlo, in the same building as a few other drivers. Desperate for anything he went there personally to look for you. After giving your name and being recognized, the staff member checked on their computer for a moment.

“Unfortunately, she moved out of this building around a week ago.”

“What…?” Sebastian whispered to himself, shocked, “S-she… um, do you know if she moved to another place here in Monaco? Or she moved to another country or something?”

“I don’t have that information, sir,” the woman replied, looking at him with a smile apologetically.

Sebastian nodded and left, helpless.

Time went on, the world spun, and he never heard about you again. The holidays came and went, and a new season started. People still spoke about you, whispers about your retirement and the accident, many conspiracies theories about why you had disappeared. But oddly enough, the FIA and the F1 representatives never spoke much about you.

Not seeing you again was eating him alive, especially whenever he remembered the last time you had talked, the promise of a future that never came. One time, he went to the Red Bull to try and get any information about you. He kept bothering the staff for months, everyone including Christian, who was the one to put a firm stop to his nonsense of bothering the team’s staff about you.

“I need to talk to her, it’s important,” Sebastian pleaded.

“Have you considered that maybe she doesn’t want to be bothered? That she doesn’t want to speak with you or anyone for that matter?” Christian said, “This stops now, Sebastian. Stop bothering my team about this or I’ll have to go to Todt.”

Sebastian deflated, feeling defeated, only nodded, walking away.

He still talked about you on occasion, mentioning a battle in passing, or whenever the only woman to win a Formula 1 championship was mentioned. Sometimes he hoped you were watching, that you could see the longing in his eyes, that you’d feel something and reach out to him. And then later, he felt silly, stupid for wishing so.

Late at night, he stared at the ceiling, trying to commit to memory everything that had ever happened between you. The fights, the shouts but even more the chats, the making love and the silly conversations you two had late at night, your naked bodies covered by a thin blanket as you chatted about anything and everything. He always thought about your hands mindlessly drawing on his skin, you two drifting off to sleep, and then one of you sneaking out in the middle of the night. No goodbyes to make it easier.

And now the lack of goodbyes felt like an open wound for him.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five years passed and Sebastian believed he had learned to deal with your absence, with the lack of closure. But it was a lie he kept telling himself, even if every year, he kept trying your phone number, your email, sending texts and notes, until your phone number was discontinued and probably sold again, for a new owner and your email stopped receiving and his letters would not go through. He never changed his own number, expecting you to eventually call.

When he announced his retirement, a small part of him hoped you’d reach out once you got the news. You never did.

After his announcement, he decided to resort to desperate measures and hired a private investigator. And finally, after a couple months since the end of his last season, he got news on you.

Ben, his P.I., got an image of you in a café in a quaint little town, you sitting down, sipping some coffee and reading a book. The image was a little blurry, probably taken from a long distance, but it looked like you.

Now, Sebastian was retired and had free time, and he immediately packed a suitcase and went to the town. He arrived there on a friday morning, and after checking in at a small but comfortable inn, he went straight to the café. Ben had told him the photo was taken in the late morning, so since very early, he went to the café and decided to wait for you. Ordering a coffee and a muffin, he waited.

And waited. And waited.

Hours and hours and a bunch of coffees and muffins later, the staff were looking at him strangely, and one of the ladies looked at him with pity, warning they were about to close.

“Were you waiting for someone, boy?” She asked.

“Yes, uh- a friend,” He sighed, standing up. He said your name, and the woman seemed to recognize the name, “She’s this tall,” He gestured, showing your height, and gave a brief physical description of you, and the woman nodded.

“I know her! Very sweet but also a bit stubborn.”

“I thought I might find her here, but…” He shrugged, giving his best puppy look to the older woman.

It didn’t take much for the woman to give him your address, and despite the urge to go straight there, Sebastian knew it was late, signaled by the café closing and he knew small towns like this usually went to sleep early. So he went to the inn, taking a shower and going to bed, trying to sleep, trying to get to the following day.

But his racing heart was making it impossible to sleep, and he laid on the bed, thinking of you, going in and off sleep, dreaming of you.

In the morning, he had breakfast and went to your address in a moment that wasn’t too early in the morning. Your house was a medium sized family looking home, cozy, a big front and backyard. It looked like somewhere to have a family in and to grow old.

He walked up to your porch, drying his hands on his jeans and before he could hesitate, he rang the doorbell.

He wondered if you would welcome him, at least as a friend. His nerves wondered if you had gotten married, had a family, and he was just a pathetic and creepy guy for never moving on from you. He wondered if-

You opened the door, freezing the moment your eyes met his. Sebastian looked at your face, still as stunning as ever, showing small signs of aging, but they suited your face beautifully. Your hair was longer, natural, and your face looked healthy, with a beautiful sunny hue to it.

“Principessa”

“Sebastian…” You said, shocked, “What- How…?”

“Can I come in?” He asked. You nodded, awkwardly scooting away from the doorway so he could come inside.

“I- do you want some tea?” You offered, unsure of how to feel with his presence so out of the blue.

“Yeah,” He nodded, following you inside and sitting on an armchair as you signaled him to. A small teapot on the coffee table between you, “I’ve been looking for you. Why did you disappear?” He asked, his voice almost tinged with despair.

You tried to think of what to say for a moment, pouring two mugs of tea to gather your thoughts, to grapple with the fact that Sebastian Vettel, your rival, lover and friend was there, suddenly, after five long years.

“What happened to you?” He asked again, his voice almost in pain.

“That crash happened…” You said, hands around the warm mug.

“It was worse than they made it seem, wasn’t it?” Sebastian said, a knowing look on his face when you nodded, getting up and slowly walking to a drawer on your bookshelf, he noticed how you favored one leg. You pulled a file from the drawer and walked back to the couch, handing it to him.

Silently, Sebastian opened the file, going through medical reports of you, all dated back to five years ago on that fateful night. You looked like you were avoiding looking at the files, busying yourself with preparing tea for the both of you. Sebastian read through the papers, and what caught his eyes were an x-ray of your knee, the one you were limping now, and a transverse fracture of your spine.

“Oh, my god…” Sebastian whispered, horrified. He stopped on a picture of you laying in a hospital bed, eyes red and puffy from crying that weren’t the main focus of the image, instead it was your knee, immobilized, held in place by a lot of metal pins, “What did they do to you…?”

“The crash, it bursted my knee. I almost lost my leg… Fracture, torn ligament, it was hanging by a thread. And my spine, a fracture that could’ve hindered me to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. It was brutal, my knee took the brunt of the impact, and my back was the split car…” You explained, almost robotically, like you had rehearsed that speech, your eyes were wet as you fought the tears, “They said I was lucky. Lucky I didn’t lose a leg, lucky I didn’t end up paraplegic…” You sighed, swallowing the tears, “They said I could never go back to a racing car again, because the G Forces could put too much strain on my injuries, not to mention, if I injured these two spots again, it would be risking more permanent damages. I was lucky I pulled through.”

There was bitterness in your voice, and how could you not feel bitter about that? How could you not feel angry and sad and mourn the life you once had. A life where racing had been everything to you.

“I’m so sorry,” Sebastian reached for your hand, his expression completely crestfallen, “We had seen how that car was completely unreliable, how sometimes it worked and sometimes it was a hazard to you. I never thought it could end this badly…”

“And… I’m sorry I disappeared. I know you tried contacting me for a while, but… I just couldn’t see anything related to Formula 1. I couldn’t be near all that without feeling a gut wrenching pain, without feeling anger for anything related to motorsports… I just had to get away from all that.” You explained, looking lost and Sebastian could understand your pain. Despite the times he felt angry and sad for your disappearance, now that he knew about your reason to leave completely… he understood, “I’m sorry. I know you and some other drivers tried reaching out, but I just… I wasn’t in the right mind.”

“I understand. I can’t even imagine what you went through…” he said, his voice so understanding that a lump lodged into your throat, “how was recovery?”

“About a couple of years between the back fracture and the knee… A few surgeries, lots of physiotherapy. Lots of pain and sleepless nights…”

“Did you think about fighting, suing…?” He asked softly.

“I did… I was so angry. I wanted to sue all of them, the team, the FIA, the president. But then…” You paused for a second, “It’d drag out for god knows how long, they would surely bring all the weapons, smear campaigns, defamation, and… My image as a driver, as a person, would just be even more exploited. And I was so tired, I just wanted to heal away from all that.”

“I was so worried for a while. One day I saw your manager leaving the Red Bull hospitality…”

“There was a deal. They offered me an absurd amount of money for me to not sue them, to not bring to light what happened. They also paid for all my medical bills. I also made sure they would review the safety regulations, so no driver would have to risk their life like that again. And I know you’ll say it’s not fair, that they got away with it, but… I was just so tired. I spent my whole life playing a role, being the image they wanted… that tragic ending to my career was all I got? I genuinely wanted to disappear for the longest time after that,” You said, voice cracking for a moment, “Racing was my driving force and suddenly it was ripped away from me.”

“I wish I could’ve been there for you.” He whispered, which made your eyes water for a bit, but you looked at the ceiling, willing the tears away.

“I was a mess, there would be nothing you could do for me…” You said with a devastatingly sad little smile, “And I kept myself completely blocked from Formula 1.”

“Do you still feel pain?” He asked suddenly after a few seconds of silence.

“Physically?” You shook your head, “Sometimes a little discomfort when I’m in places where the weather is very cold.”

“And emotionally?” He whispered and you looked away, swallowing.

“You’re a racer, you can imagine…” That’s all you said.

Sebastian nodded softly, he couldn’t imagine being stopped from doing the one thing he loved the most right in his prime, in the heights of his career like you. And in one fleeting moment having that all stripped away. Your ability to do what you trained your whole life for.

“How-” He cleared his throat, deciding to change topics, “How are you living here? Enjoying?”

“Yeah, lots of free time and new hobbies…” You said, looking grateful for the change in topic, “Wanna see my garden?”

“Sure,” he nodded and you both stood up, he let you lead, his eyes dropping to your slight limp, and the constant sound of the cane hitting the floor with your steps.

You took him around your garden, where there were plants, flowers and even a small cultivation of vegetables. Everything was well cared for and groomed, there was even a small greenhouse where you guided him inside. He could barely look away from your face, your pretty eyes, your lovely lips and beautiful face that only got prettier with time.

“And here…” You stopped inside the greenhouse, “Some plants that are a little more sensitive… Tomatoes, some strawberries…” You grabbed a small clipper and handed him a fresh strawberry.

He stared at you, a silly smile on his face, watching as you grabbed a strawberry and took a small bite, the juices coating your lips in a pinkish color. His eyes dropped to your hand, noticing the absence of a wedding ring, or an engagement ring.

“Do you have a significant other?” He asked, interrupting your ramble for a moment, which made you blink, blushing slightly.

“No, I-” You paused, timid, “No…”

He walked closer, entering your personal space, his hand on your jaw, holding gently, his thumb slowly wiping the leftover strawberry juice on your lower lip.

You looked at him, tempted, looking like you wanted to risk everything. But then you scolded your face, walking away from him and back to your house. He just followed you, until you two were back in your living room. He went after you, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Sebastian,” you sighed, unsure of what to say.

“What about us?” he asked, and there was so much unsaid, but you didn’t need words when you could see it all in his eyes.

And despite wanting so badly to give in, to give a real shot to something you never got the chance to explore, you also knew you were still a mess, and being away from Formula 1 for so long, you didn’t want to bring back all the bad feelings you had regarding it. It would put an even bigger strain on you two.

Things were so complicated now, you didn’t tell him you never stopped thinking about him. That you were haunted by what-ifs, that you would have vivid dreams of a family and a future with him. You didn’t tell him about all the sweaty nights when the memories of your shared passion kept you awake. And you didn’t tell him the last thing you saw before passing out after the crash were his shiny blue eyes.

“I’ve been away from motorsports for so long, and I don’t know if-”

“I retired. Last year,” He interrupted you, “and it won’t matter to us. We have so much else to explore…”

“Sebastian… I’m a mess. I look okay now, but I still have bad days. Awful days. And it’s ugly.” You said, voice clipped. Like you weren’t allowing yourself to want, to just take a leap and do what you have yearned for so long.

“I don’t care, don’t you see that I lo-”

“You need to go,” You said walking to the door to open it, as Sebastian paused like a dejavú, “Leave, Sebastian.”

He swallowed, remembering that time you said the exact same words that sent him away. That time he did exactly that, respecting your wishes instead of his own. Gulping, Sebastian took a step forward and turned around on your porch, walking away. He stopped midway to his car, looking over his shoulder. You were still rooted to the spot, watching him. He looked down at his own feet.

“Fuck it,” He muttered under his breath.

He marched back, long strides up to your porch, so fast that you could barely register when he wrapped his arms around you and picked you up in a hug, his face nuzzled into your neck, breathing in.

“No,” he whispered against your skin, “I’m not letting you go again. Ever.”

And then finally, finally, you hugged him back, tightly around his neck silently because there was no need for words, a silent understanding of finding each other again. Of having someone like him, who fought for you, to find you even when you thought you shouldn’t be found. When you broke the hug, Sebastian held your face with both hands, his thumb gently wiping the tears you had shed during the hug.

“I love you, Principessa.”

“Even now? Even after all this time?” You asked, voice shaky but your eyes with a glimmer of hope.

“Even after all this time,” He nodded, blue eyes shining in happiness, a barely contained smile on his face.

“I love you too, by the way,” You said, shyly and hiding your face into his chest.

“No, that won’t do,” He laughed, a playful cocky chuckle, “I need you to look me in the eyes when you say it,” He tangled his fingers on your hair at the nape, tugging gently so he could make you look up at him, when you did, there was this playful look in his face and you almost melted right there.

“I love you, Sebastian,” You smiled, feeling silly. Sebastian nodded, leaning forward to peck your cheek, his lips slowly descending your jaw and neck.

“Let me stay,” He asked, his lips brushing your skin and making you shudder, closing your eyes.

“Only if you stay forever,” You smiled, and he started walking you backwards, entering your house again, his hands on your hips helping you stay up as he gently nipped your neck.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” He said, kicking the door closed behind him, “You also owe me a date, Princess. Remember?” He gently laid you down on the sofa, slowly laying down on top of you, “And I intend to charge it, with all the interest fees…” He joked, pressing a soft kiss to your chin.

-----

TAGLIST: @ririgy @ironmaiden1313 @w4ltmeister @vellicora @hopefulsophie @chloeannabelle @rebelatbay @crashingwavesofeuphoria @zoeyjadetice2010

works in progress:

franco colapinto x piastri!sister

oscar piastri written based off amnesia by 5sos teaser

current masterlist:

OSCAR PIASTRI | OP81

secret sister | norris!sister - smau

part one part two part three

professor piastri? | teacher!reader - smau

home race? | trilingual!reader - smau

LANDO NORRIS | LN4

cool for the summer | summer fling!reader - smau

english love affair | rockstar!reader - smau

it’s ok i’m ok | ex!reader - written

LOGAN SARGEANT | LS2

celebrity crush | singer!reader - smau

stay with me | ex!reader - smau + written

FRANCO COLAPINTO | FR43

the other guy | piastri sister!reader - smau

part one | part two | tbc..

2022 Bucky Barnes Fic Rec 9

All of them are COMPLETE SERIES

fic rec masterlist | request

fav fics - ✨

Status - Updating

1. So far away by @queenofslytherin71

Bucky x Reader

Reader is pregnant with Bucky’s child and she hasn’t told him yet. Reader must go on an undercover mission and it goes horribly wrong.

2. Hello and Goodbye, by @sweetascanbee ✨

Bucky x Adopted Wilson!Reader

You are Sam's adopted little sister, and he brings home a mysterious friend.

3. Three Shades of a Man by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bucky x Reader

It was different every time, what Bucky needed from you to survive himself. It was in these moments you saw the shades behind the mask he wore in front of the world. 

4. Save Me From Myself by @captain-rogers-beard

Bucky x Reader

You are being hunted by HYDRA and Bucky has been tasked with keeping you safe. Problem is, the two of you have a history.

5. Quiet by @nastybuckybarnes

Bucky x Reader

Steve Rogers makes an accidental discovery while on a simple hydra base raid. You. He brings you back to the Avengers Tower where they all try to figure you out. Your… interesting way of communicating makes that especially hard. Until one super-soldier proves otherwise.

6. Deepest Desires by @captain-rogers-beard

Bucky x Reader

A series of sexual escapades where Bucky shows you what it’s like to give in to your deepest desires.

7. The Proposal by @captain-rogers-beard

Bucky x Reader Modern AU

Bucky Barnes world is turned upside down after he agrees to marry his boss, a woman he despises.

8. The Playlist by @bolontiku

Bucky x Mutant!Reader

being new to the Avengers you can’t help but screw with Bucky’s playlist.

9. Dreaming of Better Days by @wizardofrozz ✨

40s!Bucky x Reader

Steve always manages to find a fight no matter where he goes and Bucky is always ready to defend his best friend, until one day someone beats him to it. Bucky isn’t prepared to find you standing up for his best friend and he definitely wasn’t prepared to be so swept up by you. But most of all, he didn’t expect you to have such an important place in his future. 

9-2. Echos of the Past by @wizardofrozz

Bucky x Super Soldier!Reader

Bucky’s gone again, leaving you and Steve to regroup. Finding Bucky seems impossible, and the relentless memories don’t make things easier. One thing that scares you the most is who you might find when you’re reunited after 70 years. Has Hydra destroyed you and Bucky beyond repair?

10. Grease Lightning by @language-rxgers ✨

Bucky x Reader High School AU

You’re on the hair & makeup team for your school’s production of Grease, and Nat has signed you up to do the makeup for the lead role of Danny Zuko- played by none other than Bucky Barnes. 

11. Best Boyfriend You’ve Never Had by @language-rxgers

Bucky x Reader

When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesn’t leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned.

Masterlist

Lando Norris

One shots

Yeah | 0.8K

Summary: You find it difficult to let people in. Maybe you should date someone you already know?

First Date | 1.1K

Summary: You're at the club with your friends when you spot the prettiest man you've ever seen. When he notices you and asks you out on a date, it's no surprise you say yes – even though your nerves almost get the better of you.

Panic at the Disco | 1.3K Part 2 | 2.4K

Summary: When you call your brother to pick you up from the club, it's his best friend who answers.

Dutch Courage | 2.9K

Summary: When Max Verstappen invites Lando to celebrate King’s Day with him, he can hardly refuse. Especially when it’s a great opportunity to spend time with the Dutch man’s sister.

Win & Woo | 3.1K

Summary: Congratulating Lando after his first race win is a lot more difficult than you expected. When you finally get the chance to, he reacts differently than you anticipated.

Kiss and Make Up | 5.0K

Summary: You used to get along with your brother’s best friend, but at some point, it all changed. Lando’s rude comments frustrate you to no end, and your brother is fed up with your complaints. Max only sees one solution: you need to make up.

Happy Anniversary! | 4.8K

Summary: When Lando forgets the date of your anniversary, you can get over it. However, the pressure of his job isn’t a good enough reason to excuse all of his forgetful tendencies and lack of attention for you.

Charles Leclerc

One shots

Awkward Advances | 2.1K

Summary: You are best friends with Alex Albon. When you go to the bar with him and his driver friends, you decide to shoot your shot. But with the amount of drinks consumed, it doesn't go as smoothly as planned.

Oblivious | 2.4K

Summary: Charles has been blatantly flirting with Y/N for months, but she's the only one who hasn't noticed.

Strategy to Your Heart | 4.3K

Summary: Ferrari hasn’t been doing well in the races lately, and Charles has only 1 person he can blame for the bad strategies: you.

roommate from hell - oscar piastri (4/5)

୨ৎ : pairing : oscar piastri x gn!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : forced into an accidental roommate situation, oscar and you struggle with clashing habits, sarcastic banter, and unexpected tension…until frustration turns into something much deeper.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy & light angst (barely...) ୨ৎ : tws : forced proximity, mild conflict, emotional tension, and mutual pining. ୨ৎ : wc : 1242

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You paced around your room, phone pressed to your ear as your friend tried very hard not to laugh at your situation.

"So let me get this straight," they said, their tone already way too smug for your liking. "You overheard Oscar telling Lando that he doesn’t know if something is happening between you two, and now you’re spiraling?"

"I'm not spiraling," you said, stopping mid-step. "I just—Why did I even care what he said? I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me. We’re just… tolerating each other at this point."

Your friend hummed in a way that made it very clear they did not believe you. "Uh-huh. And tell me, when he said he doesn’t know if he feels something, what did you want him to say?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

That stupid sinking feeling was still sitting in your stomach, the same one that had hit you the moment Oscar didn’t say he felt something. Because, for some reason, you had wanted him to.

You groaned. "I hate this."

"You hate realizing you have a thing for your roommate?"

"He's not—" You paused. "Oh, my God. I don’t have a thing for him."

Your friend snorted. "Right. You just spent the last fifteen minutes freaking out over nothing."

You flopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I’m not freaking out. I just… Maybe I got used to him being around."

"Uh-huh."

"And maybe it’s kinda nice that we get along now."

"Mhmm."

"And maybe—maybe—it was kinda shitty to hear him sound so unsure about me when I was kinda sure about him."

There was a pause.

Then, finally, your friend said, "Babe, you’re so screwed."

You groaned, rolling onto your stomach. "I know."

You did your best to shake off the whole feelings crisis after that, but something about it still lingered in the background. You weren’t weird around Oscar, but you definitely weren’t normal either.

And it didn’t help that he was completely unbothered. He went about life as usual—making coffee for two without a word, leaving his gym bag in the hallway, making sarcastic remarks at you over dinner. You had convinced yourself that nothing had changed, even though it absolutely had.

The only real difference was that now, you were hyperaware of him.

The way he smelled when he came home after a workout. The way he concentrated when playing some mindless game on his phone. The way he leaned against the counter when talking, all relaxed and casual.

It was fine. It was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Almost a month had passed since the roommate disaster began, and suddenly, Greg was back in your lives.

It started with an envelope on the counter, casually placed there like it wasn’t about to cause problems.

You stared at it, then at Oscar. "What’s this?"

He didn’t even look up from his phone. "Greg dropped it off while you were out."

You hesitated before picking it up and reading the note attached.

Greg had finally gotten your security deposits back.

Which meant you were no longer stuck in this apartment together.

Which meant if you wanted, you could leave.

Oscar looked up when you went quiet, glancing at the note in your hands. "Oh."

You blinked at him. "Yeah."

Neither of you said anything for a second.

Then, finally, you cleared your throat. "So, I guess this means we don’t have to keep sharing the place if we don’t want to."

Oscar nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Another pause.

Neither of you moved.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. "Do you… want to move out?"

Oscar’s gaze flickered to yours for just a second before he shrugged. "I don’t know. Do you?"

You didn’t answer right away.

You should have said yes. You should have said you were looking forward to getting your own space again, to not having to deal with the thermostat war or the way he left his shoes directly in front of your door.

But for some reason, you hesitated.

For some reason, you weren’t entirely sure.

"Guess we’ll figure it out," you said finally, setting the envelope back down on the counter.

"Yeah," Oscar said, his voice unreadable. "Guess we will."

The weirdness settled in after that.

Not bad weird. Just… weird.

You noticed how neither of you acknowledged the envelope again after that conversation. It sat on the counter for two days, untouched, like a silent reminder that things had to change but neither of you wanted to be the first to say it.

You still moved around each other in the apartment like normal, still bickered over stupid things, still stole his hoodies, still watched bad reality shows on the couch.

But it felt… different.

Like there was something else hanging in the air between you.

And Oscar noticed.

At first, he didn’t say anything, but you caught him watching you a little longer when you were talking, tilting his head slightly like he was trying to figure something out.

Then, one night, after dinner, he finally said something.

"You’ve been weird lately," he said, watching you over the rim of his water glass.

You nearly choked on your drink. "Excuse me?"

He set his glass down. "You heard me."

You frowned. "I have not been weird."

"You have," he countered, completely unfazed. "You’ve been acting… different. Quieter. Less annoying."

Your face deadpanned. "Less annoying?"

"Yeah." His lips twitched, like he was enjoying this. "Almost like you’ve been thinking too much. And not about how to sabotage my thermostat settings this time."

You scoffed, trying to act casual. "Maybe I just ran out of energy to deal with your deeply flawed way of living."

Oscar leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe."

There was a pause.

Then he said, "Or maybe it’s about the deposit letter."

You immediately busied yourself with wiping an already clean spot on the counter. "Why would it be about that?"

Oscar didn’t answer right away. When you glanced up at him, he was watching you carefully.

"You tell me," he said simply.

You felt something in your stomach twist.

For a second, you thought about just admitting it. About saying I don’t know why I haven’t packed my bags yet. I don’t know why I don’t want to.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you forced a smirk, grabbed your cup, and turned toward your room.

"Well," you said over your shoulder, "if you think I’m being weird, you should’ve said something sooner."

Before he could respond, you disappeared into your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You exhaled, leaning against it for a second.

What the hell were you doing?

It was just a lease. Just an apartment. Just a temporary situation that had somehow turned into something too comfortable.

You were supposed to leave.

You were supposed to want to leave.

But now, with the deposit in hand and the option finally there, the idea of not seeing Oscar every day, of not sharing space with him, of not arguing over the smallest things just for the fun of it…

It didn’t feel as easy as you thought it would.

And judging by the way Oscar had been watching you, you weren’t the only one feeling it.

You climbed into bed, forcing yourself to ignore the feeling.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, you’d bring it up.

Maybe.

Or maybe you’d just wait for Oscar to do it first.

taglist : @sugarfreerbr , @no-144444 , @window-to-nothing , @judelina , @littlegrapejuice , @formulaal , @spikershoyo , @eclipsedcherry , @whispersofthewild , @1-queenofpotatoes-1 , @obxstiles , @poppysrin , @a-beaverhausen , @blakebearsblog , @fastandcurious16 , @imdyinghelpplease , @reginalaufeyson-holmes , @percy-jackson-fan909 , @bavo-delta-eccho , @chloes-book-corner , @edgyficuselastica , @wierdflowerpower , @briefkittenearthquake , @saachiep81 | (comment to be added ... bolded couldn't be tagged)

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hockey 　 & 　 f1 　 p ! links 　 — 　 18 + 　 content

!! 　 THESE ARE LITERAL PORN LINKS, MDNI 　 !!

includes: 　charles leclerc 　 carlos sainz 　 　 　 max verstappen 　 oscar piastri 　 lando norris 　 　 quinn hughes 　 luke hughes 　 jack hughes 　 　 mitch marner 　 franco colapinto 　 .

all 　 links 　 direct 　 you 　 to 　 twt 　 / 　 x 　 　 　 you 　 must 　 be 　 logged 　 in 　 to 　 access

tw 　 some 　 captions 　 of 　 the 　 tweets 　 pertain 　 to 　 topics 　 i 　 don’t 　 write 　 please 　 ignore 　 them 　 !!

most 　 of 　 these 　 do 　 not 　 look 　 like 　 the 　 drivers 　 / 　 players! 　 they 　 are 　 concepts, 　 feel 　 free 　 to 　 send 　 in 　 links 　 for 　 me 　 to 　 add 　 !

last updated : 10th of february 2025

charles leclerc

sub!charles being rewarded after his win — sauber era

munch!charles just wanting his mouth on you

charles just needs to fuck you, please help him?

depriving charles of being inside you

oscar piastri

sub!oscar being jerked off

oscar calls you mama in bed and apologises for cummin’ — not a video but a tweet

rival!oscar being dumbed down when rival!reader sits in his lap and they eventually end up here

carlos sainz

tying up sub!carlos and overstimulating him

carlos dry humping you when you’ve been a brat

franco colapinto

making him wait after a celly

franco loves when you take pictures of him

franco loves your tits, and he loves when you jerk him

max verstappen

bratty!max to sub!max hate handjob

ruining max’s orgasam

MASTERLIST

FORMULA 1

CHARLES LECLERC

BEST MOMENTS — for their favorite couple’s 5 year anniversary, fans share their favorite moments of them.

GOOD LUCK CHARM AU — dad!charles leclerc x mom!reader

LANDO NORRIS

END — yn can't take the distance from lando anymore.

BEGIN AGAIN — after two years apart, a chance encounter allows yn and lando to reconnect and explore what could be a new beginning. OR end part 2.

we listen and we don’t judge — yn and lando do the popular tiktok trend where they confess secrets to each other, judgement free.

OSCAR PIASTRI

COMING SOON!

YUKI TSUNODA

SURPRISE! — it’s yuki’s birthday and his girlfriend would do anything to make him happy.

DANIEL RICCIARDO

DELULU — a fan thinks daniel ricciardo and yn ln are dating. crazy right?

NHL

JACK HUGHES

BLIND, DEAF, MUTE BAKING CHALLENGE — yn and jack do the popular youtube challenge.

QUINN HUGHES

COMING SOON!