Abudhabby29-blog - Abby’s Blog (it’s All About The Self)

"Lando was a little bit behind me." "I was a little bit behind. Alex was my hero."

true story | charles leclerc

pairing: ex!reader x charles leclerc

summary: you and your ex boyfriend are trying to see each other on the low, until a restaurant instagram account exposes your relationship

fc: steph bohrer

a/n: based on this tiktok cause it was hilarious (if you know spanish please go watch it it’s so funny😭)

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liked by bffusername, lissiemackintosh and others

yourusername in my natural habitat

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username beautiful!

username debut album from y/n when

username seriously i need her to start making music

username y/n is a dog person confirmed

username charles i really don’t understand you

bffusername casually serving model

yourusername 😽😽😽

username the only woman ever

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc and others

charles_leclerc always happy to be home 😁

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username this is gonna do numbers in pinterest

username he’s absolutely the love of my life

username models are GRATEFUL he decided to be a driver

username he’s so bbg

username looked at my boyfriend and sigh

username if my future husband is not charles leclerc i don’t want it

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pavillonrestaurant always happy to welcome this absolute legend into our restaurant 🙏🏽 charles_leclerc

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username wait what

username is he with y/n 😭😭😭

username i thought they broke up?

username THEY DID

username when i try to get back with my ex and a restaurant expose us

username the fact she’s in two pics with two different outfits so you KNOW is not the first time they go out together

f1gossip 👀

username omg are we witnessing the comeback of y/ncharles in real time?

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and others

yourusername mood

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username unbothered queen

username charles liking this SO UNSERIOUS

username requesting taylor swift is the truest part

username unrelated but i need her to release some MUSIC omg

username posting with all this instruments and we get nothing

username this DIVA💜

username so are they back together or not 😭

username bestie confirm or deny quickly!

username no i get it because if my ex looked like y/n i would also be getting back together

charles_leclerc 🤣 (liked by yourusername)

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charles_leclerc incredible weekend monza 🇮🇹

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username LEOOOO🥺

username leo and y/n omg!!!

username the family is back together

username depression is cancelled y/n and charles are together again‼️

scuderiaferrari our hero🫶🏽

username a win in monza AND getting back together with y/n??? this man WON

username that last pic …. girl drop the photos

yourusername my leo 🥹

charles_leclerc and i’m not yours? 🤨

yourusername and you 🥰

username he’s handsome, has a cute dog, drives for his dream team, WON IN MONZA, and has a beautiful girlfriend …. yeah his life is perfect

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part two of three, link to part one here

summary: lando and y/n relationship is on the rocks. y/n either makes the worst or best decision of her life. oscar is losing it and has a secret habit of street racing? (listen to empathy while he races).

warnings: pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though.

word count: 4.9k

dedicated to: @theonottsbxtch

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You stood in the doorway of Lando’s bedroom in his flat in Monaco, sighing as he went through your phone. His eyes scrunched and a scowl on his lips as he held up the phone for you to see. “Who the hell is that?”

Narrowing your eyes to look, it was another comment some stranger left underneath one of your posts, calling you beautiful. The issue, to Lando at least, was that the stranger was a guy. “I don’t know.”

Lando scoffed and pulled your phone back towards him. “Yeah well, he’s also in your DM’s.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, knowing that would only annoy him further. He was weirdly obsessed with any male attention you received, not that you ever entertained it but he always made it seem like you were the one doing something. “And how many girls are in your comments and your DM’s? It’s not like I ever reply, unlike you.”

It wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise, even with Oscar and all the girls reaching out to him it never bothered you, you knew that’s simply how it was with fame. But the fact Lando would actually reply to them made you uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to care as he waved you off again. “I’m just engaging with my fans, what excuse do you have?”

You baulked at him. “I don’t talk to them.”

“I’m sure you just deleted the chats.” He practically threw your phone at you before turning around to go back to his game.

You wished you could say this was the first and last time you had this conversation with him, but it was beginning to feel like a weekly occurrence. You didn’t understand, he even had the audacity to flirt with girls in front of you but would say he was just being friendly. And who were you to question him, anyway?

You felt lost, lonely. Thrown into the world of dating a celebrity who gave no reassurance and it was like everyone you cared about suddenly wasn’t available to talk anymore. Either because of time zones, work, et cetera. And Oscar… you had always felt like he was someone to lean on without feeling like a burden but even now he felt like a stranger.

Events were beyond awkward, he’d mutter a hello before practically running away from you. Anytime you tried to talk to him, there was an excuse to leave. Your daily texts came to a halt besides a Happy Birthday message and a bouquet of flowers that Lando had thrown away before you even had a chance to hold them.

You’d still sometimes catch him staring at you though, and it kept a little flame of hope alive in your heart that he didn’t hate you. That your friendship maybe was salvageable, it just needed time.

At a club following a relatively successful qualifying for McLaren one night, you had just walked away from the bar with a new drink and weaved between the crowd of people. You weren’t sure where Lando was, and part of you said you probably didn’t want to know. Worrying about all the what if’s was going to kill you. Taking a sip of your drink, you decided you wanted a bit of fresh air and moved towards the large balcony the club had. It was still crowded, but not nearly as much and you found a seat at an empty table.

You mostly people-watched for a while, letting the alcohol create a comforting blanket over your nerves when someone sat down across from you.

Oscar was looking at you, eyes a bit bloodshot and his hair a mess as he held a glass of what might’ve been whiskey. Your shock made you sit there stupidly for a moment and stare at him. Surprised he made the first move to initiate some sort of interaction, anxious to talk to him, angry he had been avoiding you, and mad at yourself for not trying harder to fix things.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a bit rough around the edges.

Apparently words were lost on you as you continued to stare at him.

He sighed, his breath shaking as he messed with his glass tumbler. “Are you happy?”

Pursing your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from him to look at the city skyline. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re not answering.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Oscar.” Not when he was intoxicated, at least.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Please, I need to- are you happy?”

Dammit, your eyes began to water. Why was he always able to pull such reactions out of you so easily? “You don’t always have to try and save me, Oscar. I’m a grown woman.”

“The most remarkable people in the world still might want help sometimes.”

You looked away from him, biting at the inside of your cheek in a weak attempt to keep your breathing even and wiped a tear away. You missed him, you really did. And maybe this rift was your own doing. You knew you couldn’t blame yourself for Lando’s behaviour but sometimes it felt like everything would’ve been easier, better for Oscar, if you weren’t in the picture. If you had just stayed home and not agreed to come to that first race last season.

Standing up, you offered a tense smile. “I’ll see you at the race tomorrow.” And you walked away.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Oscar had never truly hated anyone before, but with each passing day he came dangerously close to yanking Lando by the collar of his shirt and punching him. The way his teammate so blatantly flirted with other girls while doing media events was beginning to lose its shock value on Oscar, but his anger just kept reaching a boiling point. Maybe he needed to be more level headed and mature about the whole situation, but knowing how much Lando was disrespecting you started to affect how Oscar raced. It wasn’t a hindrance by any means, but people were starting to notice how much more aggressive he was being on track.

A few days before a race weekend, teams were allowed to go out and walk the track to get a feel for it. Which was necessary on all accounts because the upcoming circuit had recently been resurfaced. Oscar had his hands in his pockets as he walked, paying close attention to the curves and the changes in elevation when a familiar waft of perfume caught his attention. It took him off guard, not expecting to find you out here but there you were, walking with Charles’ girlfriend Alex, who was taking their dog Leo for a stroll.

Your eyes immediately caught his, muttering something to Alex before heading in his direction.

He stood there like a deer caught in headlights as you approached, messing with your nails nervously the closer you got. Finally, stopping a few feet away you gave him a small smile. In an instant it was like all the ice that had built up over his heart the past few months began to melt.

“Walk with me?” You offered, extending an olive branch and he nodded, letting a small smile tug at his own lips as he began to walk again, you by his side.

It was quiet for a little while, the air a bit tense but nowhere near what it had been lately.

“I still don’t understand how you aren’t scared shitless when you get in those cars. The turns are so sharp and you come at them so quickly.” You muttered, gnawing at your lip and he couldn’t help but stare at the soft look of them before he forced himself to look away.

“Over time the fear goes away. There’s a thrill to it, I think. An adrenaline rush. Corners are the best part sometimes.” He offered, looking at you again only to find you already staring at him.

“Is that why you hold on to the door handle for dear life when I drive? For the thrill of it?” You joked and he found himself laughing, forgetting how easy it was.

“I think that’s my body going into fight or flight mode when you’re behind the wheel.”

You shoved him playfully, shaking your head with a grin on your face. The brief physical contact made his head spin and butterflies erupt in his stomach. He desperately wanted to touch you, hug you, something… he didn’t know. “I miss you. This.” The words were out before he could think more on it but he didn’t regret them either.

Coming to a stop in front of Oscar’s garage, you looked up at him and smiled softly. “Me too.”

Your eyes locked onto his, feeling like the world had stopped spinning and it was just the pair of you. Oscar didn’t have to think about anything else as you stood there in front of him. His best friend and the girl he knew had his heart. Slowly, he lifted his hand as your hair got tossed around by the breeze and he brushed it away from your eyes. Taking in the soft feel of your skin and an electric shock went from his fingertips and tore apart each of his nerves.

Pulling away, you turned to go meet your boyfriend and the world started to move again.

He flipped over in his hotel bed, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other found leverage on the mattress. Your soft and shaky breath sent shivers down his body, feeling your soft skin slide against his as he moved down the bed.

“Oscar,” you whimpered out, hands tugging at his hair as desperation began to control your movements. You were so beautiful, no matter where or how he saw you. But there was something akin to holiness as he looked at you spread out on his sheets beneath him. Naked and wanting. Wanting him.

“Relax for me, angel.” He pressed a kiss to your hip before moving down, licking a long stripe up your wet—

He shot up, sweat drenching his skin and a painful erection showing a tent in his sheets. Oscar groaned as reality caught up with him, pressing his palms into his eyes. “What is wrong with me?” He whispered to his empty hotel room, still wishing you could somehow be there next to him.

The sex dreams had always been a common occurrence the moment he realised he liked you. Years of built up sexual frustration and he always felt guilty about them afterward. You were his best friend yet every other night he fantasised about fucking you. The dreams never stopped, even when you were in a relationship. Even when he was in one.

His hands dropped as he stared out the window, depressed and frustrated. “I am awful,” he muttered. But Oscar knew he’d have one again. Part of him didn’t want them to stop, and he’d tell himself he could live with the guilt.

Later that day, maybe it was the lack of sleep or the constant pain of knowing you were with Lando, but when he caught his teammate slipping a girl his number he snapped.

Once they rounded a corner and no one was around, Oscar grabbed onto his shirt and slammed him into the wall, pinning him there with an arm against Lando’s chest. “You are such a joke.” He bit out.

Lando blinked at him in surprise before shaking away his shock, trying to shove Oscar off of him but the Aussie didn’t budge. “What is your problem, mate? Get the hell off me.”

“Does she know you’re out here messing around or do you like rubbing it in her face so blatantly?” Oscar was three seconds away from punching him before Lando shoved him more roughly, finally managing to break free from the wall.

He narrowed his eyes at Oscar before laughing, the sound of it dry and lacking all amusement. “Since when did you start giving a fuck about her again?”

Clenching just jaw, Oscar walked up to his teammate, his own eyes narrowed and his voice low. “Quit playing with her or I’ll run you off the damn track.” With that, he patted Lando’s shoulder once before walking away.

The Dutch Grand Prix was approaching and Oscar felt like he was losing it. You were everywhere. Plaguing his thoughts. In all his dreams. All he could think about. Him and Lando had hit a stand still in their working relationship and the friendship they had built came crumbling down when Oscar realised how much of an arse he truly was to you.

There was a small get together with a decent amount of the drivers and some friends at a townhouse Max had. The grill was now cool from the earlier barbecue and most of the crowd had moved inside as the night air grew chilled and rain was approaching.

Oscar felt suffocated inside the house, though. Everything was too bright and too close. You were everywhere yet nowhere at once and Lando was being a smug bastard, acting like a saint when he was really a devil in disguise. No matter how hard Oscar tried, he couldn’t stop looking at you. Wishing he was Lando and hating himself for it. Wishing he was the one who got to fall asleep next to you at night, knowing he could love you properly. Then Lando disappeared, and so did you and he felt his brain shatter into a million pieces. Knowing it wasn’t him made his chest physically hurt and he stumbled towards the back yard, not being able to breathe until the door was shut behind him and all the voices became muted.

He froze the moment he saw you laying in the grass, staring up at the moon.

“Hey,” you said, hearing his footsteps approach before he laid down next to you. The grass was damp from earlier rain but he didn’t care. You were there next to him, that’s all that mattered.

It was quiet for a while. The only noise was from the house and crickets, sometimes thunder from the distance. His mind was moving quickly, yet sluggishly, and still everything felt strangely clear all the sudden as he star gazed with you.

“Break up with him.”

You were silent, but he heard you take in a sharp breath before you whispered the next word. “What?”

“Break up with him.”

“Oscar—“

Turning to you and perching himself up by his elbow, he continued. “I know I waited too long. I know I didn’t communicate with you. I know I’m an arse for ignoring you. I’m sorry, I am, but— he is horrible to you. You’re not happy, I know you aren’t.”

You looked up at him, still laying down and the moonlight painted a heavenly sight before him as your brows furrowed. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? I know you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you—“

You finally sat up, eyes narrowed. “And what? You do? All this time you’ve apparently loved me but would tell me you weren’t interested and would go off dating other girls. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Oscar?”

He quickly stood up to follow you as you also got up and began to walk away from him.

“Why put yourself through hell for him?” He bit out.

“I have spent years putting myself through hell waiting for you! I can handle him.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle him!”

You whipped around to yell something at him when the back door suddenly opened and Logan stepped out, eyeing the scene wearily. “Am I interrupting something?”

Before Oscar could say anything, you bit out a “Nope,” and stormed past the two drivers, disappearing into the house.

Logan quietly shut the door and raised a brow at Oscar. “Trouble in paradise?”

Oscar fell heavily onto a porch chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”

Looking at his friend for a moment, Logan sat down across from him. “You know,” he started, “I’ve known you two for a long time and you’ve always seemed to work something out.”

Sighing, Oscar leaned back in the chair and thought about the last few months. Thought about that fateful night a few years ago. Logan must’ve been thinking about it, too.

“I know how messy it was the first time and how much you beat yourself up over it, but it worked out didn't it?”

“Did it?” Oscar asked. “I feel like we just kept pushing off the inevitable and now it’s blown up in my face.”

“Look, I know it sucked but you did the right thing not getting into a relationship with her back then. That would’ve blown up in your face. But now, man, you have the world at your fingertips.” He paused for a moment and rubbed at his chin. “Why’d you invite her in the first place?”

Oscar frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. You never invited her to your old races. You knew how busy you’d be once you started in Formula One, you wanted her here.”

He shrugged. “I mean yeah, but—“

“And now Lando is in the way?”

Oscar sighed, “yeah.”

The long time friends looked at each other, not sure whether or not to mention they both knew Lando was cheating on you. Logan caught him with some girl in a hotel bar, Carlos yelled at him a few weeks ago when he caught him with someone, and the list went on.

Oscar had a feeling you knew as well, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why you wouldn’t just leave the bastard.

As if reading his thoughts, Logan spoke again. “She might feel trapped, you know? Despite even the worst circumstances, it’s hard to leave relationships sometimes.”

“When did you get wise?”

Logan laughed and shook his head, standing up to pat his friend on the shoulder. “I always have been. Now, you have two options. One, run after her and try to fix this no matter what or else you’re going to go through the rest of your life wondering what if you had tried harder. Or two, you try to let go of it. Let go of her, and move on.”

Oscar licked at his dry lips and looked down at his hands, noticing the calluses he got from racing. “I can’t forget about her.”

“Then get off your ass and go after her.”

Logan didn’t have to tell him again. He patted the American on the back in thanks and took off into the house, only you were nowhere to be seen.

He caught sight of Charles and pulled him to the side. “Have you seen her?”

His friend looked at him knowingly, the Monegasque had a weird sixth sense on reading people and on more than one occasion he had offered Oscar some friendly advice on the matter of a broken heart. “She left, mate. Not with Lando though, if that helps.”

It did, and if Oscar wasn’t in such a rush he would’ve hugged the man.

He muttered a thanks before grabbing his keys and running out the door. He wasn’t sure where she was, but the first place he would assume is the hotel the McLaren team was staying at.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You shivered as you walked, your anger at everything beginning to fizzle away. Adrenaline had kept you warm for the most part as you got deeper into the city but now that it was fading you grew a bit nervous. A woman walking alone at night was never the safest or smartest decision.

But you had been so pissed off at Lando and angry that Oscar had been right. Right about everything. Lando was bad news but you were so desperate for attention you let a man start to slowly pick at you in ways he knew would make you crumble. He knew all your insecurities and would point them out to make a statement or if he got bored.

If you would’ve just been smart and waited a bit longer you could’ve been happy with Oscar. But… you had waited for years and you were tired. You knew it wasn’t your fault that he didn’t communicate how he had actually felt about you. That still didn’t solve any of the raging emotions going off inside you.

You heard a car approaching and kept your head down, hoping they would shoot past you. Much to your horror, the car with a strong sounding engine began to slow down. The deep rumble from it made your bones tremble, or maybe that was your fear.

Then a window rolled down and a familiar voice called out. “Get in the car.”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were being irrational, surely. But you kept walking, “go away.”

The car halted to a stop, a door opening and slamming shut and not a moment later Oscar was standing in front of you. Angry. “Get in the fucking car.”

You blinked at him. You knew he swore during races but hardly ever at you. You were about to argue with him, being fueled by pure stubbornness at this point when there was a loud crack of lightning and it began to rain.

“Fine,” you bit out, getting into the expensive car and at that moment you didn’t care if your wet clothes ruined the leather. Oscar didn’t seem to care either as he slammed his door shut.

He started driving once you buckled and you wanted to roll your eyes. He was clearly pissed at you, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t like you did anything to him. What made it clear he was mad was the increasing speed of the car. He was always careful, always put together. Besides when racing, you weren’t sure you had ever actually seen him speed before.

Although you trusted him with your life, your mouth felt dry as you went around a wide corner, your body being pushed to the side by the force of it. “Oscar—“

“What the hell is wrong with you? Walking out here alone at night in a country you’ve never been in?”

“We both know that’s not why you’re mad right now.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rough on your ears as he whipped around another turn, the tyres losing a bit of traction from the rain but he manoeuvred into a drift and easily corrected the car with a complicated turning of the wheel and doing lord knows what with the gear shift.

This was absolutely not the time to be thinking such things but you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked breaking who knows how many traffic laws. Your thoughts only annoyed you though, not understanding why you had to like him. Not understanding why you let yourself get into the current position you were now in. Not understanding why you let Lando treat you like shit.

“So your driving isn’t any better off the track, either.” The cruel words slipped out on their own accord. You didn’t mean it. Maybe it was Lando rubbing off on you, maybe you were just making excuses.

Oscar didn’t say anything, his knuckles turned white on the steering and sped up, going well over the speed limit now and drifting, the back of the car swinging much too close to poles and buildings. It was reckless yet controlled all at once. Maybe this was his outlet. He wasn’t a big drinker, obviously didn’t dabble in drugs, he wasn’t violent, and a Formula One car was worth millions of dollars and too risky to take frustrations out on. Maybe he did this often, maybe that’s why he did it with expert precision as he raced through the streets of Zandvoort.

You didn’t know why, but when police sirens and flashing lights started to follow the car, you laughed. It was strangely liberating, watching Oscar let go of everything for once and for you to let go of fear.

Your eyes met his, red and blue lights gleaming off them and you two shared a smile before he raced off, evading law enforcement with a surprising ease and you wondered what other surprises Oscar still had in store for you after all these years.

He pulled into a dark alleyway between two buildings, quickly shutting the car off and turning out the lights. He lightly placed a hand on your back and pushed you down so you both weren’t in view from the back window. A few seconds later the police whipped by, neither of you moved till the sirens faded.

You were quiet for a minute, the only sound was your heavy breathing mixed with Oscar’s and you could just barely catch the gleam of his eyes in the dark as he looked at you. Sitting up, you messed with the hem of your shirt, a cold wave of reality hitting you. This felt like some sort of event horizon. Whatever happened in this car would determine if and how he’ll be in your life.

“Oscar,” you started quietly. He sat up as well, looking at you in the dark and hummed, patient. “Please tell me this all isn’t because I’m now something you feel like you can’t have.” The words were out, one of your biggest fears. Insecurities. Terrified he was only interested because suddenly you weren’t an option anymore. An option he’d always had.

“Angel, there was never anyone else.” His voice was so quiet you barely heard him, or maybe your heart was beating too loudly over his words. “I’m done for.”

You sucked in a breath, forgetting how to breathe as you looked at him. Your best friend. The man you’ve been in love with for years. The way he was looking at you, it wasn’t any different than how he usually did. You had just apparently been naïve to the sheer desperation in it.

“Oscar—“

His lips crashed against yours, your back hitting the door and his hands cupped your face, holding him to you.

You froze, only for a moment as your stomach dropped from the surprise. Then it came rushing back up to you and your fingers buried themselves in his hair, kissing him back with such ferocity you weren’t aware you were capable of.

One of his hands held the nape of your neck while his other hand quickly undid your seat belt, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He was so warm, soft yet rough at the same time and he tasted like heaven. As his tongue slid past your lips, dancing against yours you let out a moan that had him trembling against you.

Years. You had waited years to kiss him. You’ve dreamt about it. God, you even cried about it a couple of times. The pure longing you had been harbouring all this time had reached criticality and now you were just about to explode. His hands were all over you, exploring every inch as if he was a crazed man who found the holy grail and couldn’t quite believe it.

His tongue explored the inside of your mouth, hot and wet and he was practically breathing you in. Your nails raked through his hair, wanting so much more it felt maddening.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip as he pulled away, his eyes heavy lidded and before you could utter a complaint his mouth latched onto your neck, just below your jaw. The sound that left your mouth was embarrassing but he seemed to love it, a moan leaving his mouth and vibrating through you as he left a wet trail of open mouth kisses down your throat, sucking and biting as he went.

You tugged on his hair, a whimper leaving his mouth but it was swallowed up by your mouth as you kissed him again. With one hand snaking up underneath your shirt, his other hand grabbed your wrist and placed it on—

Your brain short circuited by how hard his cock was. Not only that, but you were touching him. There. You could faint.

“Angel, please.” It was practically a whine as he kept kissing you, his hips pushing up into your hand. As if the sounds leaving his mouth commanded you, you squeezed his erection through his pants.

Oscar shuddered violently, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “Fuck.”

“Oscar.” You sounded needy. You didn’t care. And for a whole list of fucked up reasons, you didn’t care that you had a boyfriend.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, f1, maxverstappen1 and 1,926,378 others

landonorris yup 🏆 more like it

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOOOO

usertwo: twowinssss

userthree: anyone notice how tense lando & oscar were?

| userfour: yea… and landos gf. super weird

| userfive: neither of them liked this either

usersix: y’all see those dm’s some girl leaked???

| userseven: YEAAA lando has been lurkinggg

| usereight: embarrassing honestly

usernine: y’all see that video of oscar drifting through the city? wild

| userten: I KNOWWW it was sick. didn’t know he was like that

| usereleven: who do you think the girl was in the passenger seat?

usertweleve: MORE DM’S GOT LEAKED

userthirteen: lando is quite literally for the streets

userfourteen: is this why oscar has been racing dirtier? his teammate fucks over his best friend? yikes

comments have been disabled

part three found here

Can you make a Lando x reader based on the song Cindy Lou who by Sabrina Carpenter with a happy ending where she gets with another driver and Lando suddenly want her back

Hey there I actually have a series called I’m Pretty When I Cry and I have a Cindy Lou Who chapter planned for George - here

So if you’re okay with a GR ending lmk or if you wanna change the song 💕

…

Also on a completely unrelated note let me know if you guys want to be added to a general taglist for all the fics!

And part 1 of the Begin Again Series will come out today ✌🏻

Charles Leclerc

(These are just small discerptions that explain the one shot or parts as shortly as possibly)

I just find this so cute.

Still adding!

Fluff:

It seems Charles and reader have another son. Feat Ollie. HERE

Reader is a single mom. But Charles is in it from the start. HERE

* Charle's adopts Oscar. Feat Ollie being the best son. Humor. HERE

Bearman reader. When Ollie gets into F1 for just one race, his sister is there. She has always been there. Charles and reader being cute and Ollie being the cute sibling. HERE

Leclerc sister. Reader is going out, much to her brother's misery. HERE

* Hornor reader. Charles thought he would spend forever in Ferrari, but reader makes him see through the fake promise. Red Bull Charles. HERE

Charles wins and what better way celebrate then with the princess of Monaco. HERE

Sainz reader. A game of never have I ever has Charles running for his life and the rest of the grid. HERE

Reader gets jealous of Leo until he becomes a mama's boy. HERE

Social Media:

* Reader makes friendship bracelets and gives them out at the races. Everyone wants one. Everyone. Fans love her. HERE

Wolf reader. They are the modern Romeo and Juliet but with a happy ending. Feat Jack at the end. HERE

sports commentator reader. Reader is a Mecedes fan and Charels tries to make you switch teams. HERE

Sturniolo reader. Age gap. Hate comments. HERE

McLaren admin actress reader. HERE

Verstappen reader. Max didn't know until there went public. HERE

Horner reader. Reader releases a song, but her last relationship was four years ago. So, who is the new song about? HERE

Reader is a knitter and makes clothes. Feat Lewis the fashion icon. HERE

Hornor reader. Driver. Red Bull didn't give her seat, so Ferrier did instead. HERE.

With F1 couples breaking up, fans try to protect one of the last standing ones. No breakup. HERE

Verstappen reader. With Checo retiring. Who will take his seat? Humor. HERE

Another knitting reader. HERE

* Verstappen reader. Driver. Enemies to lovers. Protective brother Max. HERE

Actress reader. Fans see your chemistry with your new co start and love it, Charles on the hand. Dose not. HERE

Vettel reader. Now Seb isn't on the grid, everyone team wants her to cheer them on. Though Charles takes it a step further. HERE

Reader releases a new song fan can't help but think it's about a certain F1 driver. HERE

In The Middle:

Master list of all different Charles one shots. HERE

Charles is dating the princess of Monaco, but people don't believe him. HERE

Reader is sick and they find out the only person to save her is her unknown brother. Raeder is a Verstappen. Abandoned Verstappen. Sick reader. Royalty reader. HERE

Ferrari reader. Things need to change, and Charles calls you for help. HERE

Charles with witch reader. Charles breaks the Monaco curse. HERE

Series:

Engineer Reader. Social media. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE.

Reader decides to hard Lauch her relationship and people react badly. Age gap. Australian reader. Hurt/comfort. People are hating on reader. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE. Part 3, HERE

Leclerc sister. Full series. HERE

Full series. Charles is the ex-boyfriend. Ends with Aarron Taylor-Johnston at the end. HERE

Polly/Lando:

The boys love language seems to be polar opposites. Social media. HERE

* Max Verstappen's half-sister. Link is to the end of the series, but all chapters there. HERE. (My favorite serries)

The boys forget to get reader for their trip. She makes them grovel. Social media. HERE

Polly/Max:

F1 commenter. With recent interview people are picking sides. But maybe they don't have to. Social media. HERE

No one considered polyamory before branding the reader a slut. Social Media. HERE

Polly/ Alexandra Saint Mleux:

Obsessive exes. Slight Social media. HERE

Charles and Alex get clingy when reader is away. Partly Social media. Part 1, HERE, Part 2, HERE

You three raised your daughter together and now its time to show the world. HERE

Alex and Charles are public and not with Reader. Reader starts feeling left out. Leo is Reader's dog. But maybe it's too late. Max being a good friend. Hurt/Comfort. Made me cry a little. HERE

Dark/Possessive:

He is yours and you are his. Dark Charles. Babby trapping. Social media in part 2. Jealous. Smut. Part 1, HERE. Part 2, HERE

Smut:

Dinner with friends, turns into Charles reminding you, you are his. HERE

<><><><>

If you compare the past me from the present one I can say they are two different people. As through the journey of life I learned how to become mature even at a young age. Somehow through this I hope that I can be a better version of myself as I’m still not satisfied. I know through all the events I can learn something from it and influence the people around me. This has been the end of my journey as I present myself to you. I hope you understood me through all my ups and downs as I had a dramatic life up until now. Thank you for subscribing to my life drama.

⟡ ᴹᴬˢᵀᴱᴿᴸᴵˢᵀˢ ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ

MASTERLIST- @lecsainz

MASTERLIST - @landograndprix

MASTERLIST - @lorarri

MASTERLIST - @chrisevansonly

MASTERLIST - @love-belle

MASTERLIST - @81folklore

MASTERLIST - @h4m1lt0ns

MASTERLIST - @hs-is-loml

MASTERLIST - @pucksandpower

MASTERLIST - @boiohboii

MASTERLIST - @lenoraah

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST - @monzabee

MASTERLIST - @cieloclercs

MASTERLIST - @astonmartinii

MASTERLIST - @natailiatulls07

MASTERLIST - @planetpiastri

MASTERLIST - @thebearchives

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MASTERLIST - @povlnfour

MASTERLIST - @racinggirl

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MASTERLIST - @sebscore

MASTERLIST - @norris-lando

MASTERLIST - @gasstationlady

MASTERLIST - @sunnyflowervol18

MASTERLIST - @ferrstappen

MASTERLIST - @ln444

MASTERLIST - @itaipava

MASTERLIST - @leclerclov3

MASTERLIST - @f1version

MASTERLIST - @lxclerc

MASTERLIST - @redclercs

MASTERLIST - @verstarppen

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MASTERLIST - @emotionaldamages

MASTERLIST - @dreamauri

MASTERLIST - @amaranthineghost

MASTERLIST - @charlesslut16

MASTERLIST - @marlenesluv

MASTERLIST - @arieslost

MASTERLIST - @5sospenguinqueen

MASTERLIST - @violetszone

MASTERLIST - @solaireverie

MASTERLIST - @slutforln4

MASTERLIST - @charles-eclair16

MASTERLIST - @illicitlimerence-writes

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MASTERLIST - @non-stop-imagines

MASTERLIST - @cutielando

MASTERLIST - @starkwlkr

MASTERLIST - @norrisleclercf1

MASTERLIST - @formulaa-1

MASTERLIST TWO - @multiversesweets

MASTERLIST - @mickyschumacher

MASTERLIST - @sunny44

MASTERLIST - @weeknd-ogoc

MASTERLIST - @thepersonnamedsam

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MASTERLIST - @disneyprincemuke

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MASTERLIST - @dolene

MASTERLIST - @scudevils

MASTERLIST - @onlyangel4

F1 Fic Recs

Oscar Piastri

Love is tough, u make it easy @httpiastri

table for 2 @foreveralbon

U turn @norrizzandpia

lets have a baby

oscar's car

when is it my turn

she wears the pants, right

call me ur fool @userland

munchkin @lewisvinga

a little slow

my mistake

don't go there @uglyducklingofthe2000s

a piece of us

breaking fingers

a brothers friend of a friend

in a world of boys

falling for u @arieslost

flowers for her @alltoowelltom

make it real @formulafics

snooze @eatingaburrito

the enemy of my brother @sxcretricciardo

purity ring @piastrification

eye catching @nouvellevqgue

curiosity kills a cat

who told him to get jack'ed @httpsserene

self care @the-offside-rule

destiny @forzarma

fav nepo baby @starkwlkr

best big brother @faithshouseofchaos

always w u @gentlyweeps-world

Lando x Oscar

bad influence @planete777

slow and gentle @norrizzandpia

one each @changetyre

take care @scuderiahoney

3some @c0eu4

papaya sunrise @fxrmuladaydreams

masterlist @vivwritesfics

Lando Norris

caught @norrizzandpia

used

she doesnt know who i am

what r u doing up

flowers on ur hair @thisismeracing

papaya @vivwritesfics

reluctant cupid @astonmartinii

possessive @norrisleclercf1

strawberry @uglyducklingofthe2000s

ur teeth in my neck @ivyppoison

F1 Grid

look after u @disneyprincemuke

bitch im a mother @starkwlkr

Charles Leclerc

some extra goodies @chrisevansonly

koala

all the girls u loved before @uglyducklingofthe2000s

if u leave me, ur'e out of ur mind

vanilla ice cream

do something abt it

perfect strangers

numb

u make it too easy

sexy speed god bf

saw ur mom at the grocery store @love-belle

just kidding @sincerlyleclerc

i wasted half my summer trying to hold ur hand

remember

cant get u out of my head

whodunnit @hamiltvns

interview @hemmingsleclerc

sleepyhead @pucksandpower

here comes the bride @starkwlkr

i love my wife

if he wanted to

safety first

finance bro girlie @juleswrites223

time zones @drunkfrogg

possessive @vivwritesfics

4some

all for nothing @loonylupinblack3

Max x Charles

u are not the world champion @starkwlkr

masterlist @verstappen-cult

full of surprises @va1entinesg4l

always you — mick schumacher

pairing. mick schumacher x verstappen!merc racing engineer!fem!reader

summary. mick had always been inexplicably tied to you, no matter what distance grew between you. even if it took over two decades for you to figure it out, it had always been mick. it would always be mick. 5.4k, 18+

playlist. "invisble string" by taylor swift, "the perfect pair" by beabadoobee, "moves" by suki waterhouse, "i wanna be yours" by arctic monkeys, "let the light in feat. father john misty" by lana del ray

warnings. pining, mick is kind of very much pitiful in this alright, smut, l-bombs, sort of sub!mick, google translated german, almost choking, oral (fem and male receiving), penetrative sex

. . .

"I'm telling you what the data says, and it says you're wrong, so follow the damn line, George."

Mick fought a smile as you told George off over the radio. Toto cast you a look that you didn't even seem to see, let alone acknowledge. The team principal didn't look all that surprised when you didn't take your eyes off the screens of data you were getting input from.

In the next lap, George's lap time dropped nearly four seconds thanks to your suggestion. George didn't offer an apology for doubting you and you didn't expect one; you only expected him to be consistent in how he attacked turns seven and eight, to continue following your instructions.

Mick had observed your and George's relationship over the last few seasons you had been working with him. As George's racing engineer, you had quite a close working relationship with the Brit.

Off track, you were good if unlikely friends. Where George was all pretense and propriety and politeness, you were nothing but brutally honest, succinct, and to the point. But you were close in age and often seen together chatting and laughing.

On track, you were pretty much the same, if not even more blunt, if that was possible. George fed off your no-nonsense attitude, communicating clearly and without any of the fluff normally gracing his conversational skills.

Mick admired how well you worked with George. He admired just about everything you did. You could sit there doing absolutely nothing and F1TV would catch Mick staring at you like a lovesick fool again.

He still doesn't know how he hadn't seen the cameraman filming him as he watched you from across the garage two weekends ago. People kept referring to him as "Heart Eyes" Schumacher and he really could not blame them after seeing the clip of himself watching you.

You hadn't said anything to him about it. In fact, you hadn't said anything to him all season. Or during pre-season. Or in the two years prior when he was driving for Haas. Or in the thirteen years it had been since your dads had their falling out.

Mick would have liked to talk to you. He would have liked to talk about nothing or everything like you used to. He would have listened to you ramble about statistics and analytics and anything you wanted, even if he didn't understand a word of it.

But you had looked at him maybe three times since he signed on as Mercedes reserve driver. You either didn't remember or—more likely, knowing your keen mind—you didn't care about your shared history.

Even if it was in your childhood and so much had changed since then, Mick still remembered. He remembered playdates and shared family vacations and spending every second together that you could before your dad dragged you away.

He remembered noticing how different your dad treated you than his dad treated him. He remembered sleeping over once and hearing your dad screaming at you until you ran to your bedroom in tears. He remembered telling his dad about it all.

He remembered how he was the one to ruin everything.

You didn't seem to remember any of it—or, at least, you never seemed to reminisce on it. Never got caught up staring at him wondering how things could have been different. Never got distracted by unexplainable yet unavoidable and likely unrequited feelings for someone that was once your friend over a decade ago.

When he was with Haas, your lack of interaction could be excused; you were on different teams. Since he had signed with Mercedes, it felt like you had purposefully been ignoring him for months.

He could approach you. He could simply walk up to you at any point when you weren't fully absorbed by readout screens and analytic diagnoses and strike up a conversation.

He didn't want to push his luck. He didn’t fully understand why you wouldn’t talk to him but he also didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

If being near you meant never truly being close to you again, Mick could live with that. Ultimately, you owed him nothing, so he could watch from afar and adore you silently. He could be content with that.

After all, it was his fault that everything fell apart in the first place.

.

"Hey, heart eyes! Come here!"

Mick hesitated before making his way to where Lewis was in the VIP section of this Friday night's club of choice.

"Hi?"

"I can't help but notice that you're pathetically in love with your race engineer."

"She's George's engineer—"

"That’s beside the point. Anyway, I think your girl could use some saving."

"She's not my girl."

Lewis hadn't said your name. Mick didn't need him to.

Mick leaned on the balcony railing beside Lewis, looking down over the crowd on the main floor of the club. He found you embarrassingly fast. You were wearing a black shirt, pink shorts, and sandals.

He had seen you come in earlier with your brother and thought you were probably the prettiest girl there that night. If you were put in a room with the world's top models, Mick would still think the same.

On the floor below, your personal space was being invaded by a dark-haired man in glasses. You looked incredibly uncomfortable, glancing around for anyone you knew who you could latch onto and get away from the man who was talking at you incessantly.

It wasn’t even a conscious decision on Mick’s part. One second, he was watching you from the VIP balcony and the next, he was pushing his way through the dance floor to get to you.

The unnamed glasses man put a hand on your back, touching the sliver of exposed skin between your shirt and shorts. You visibly tensed up.

Before he could think better of it, Mick called your name and pretended to stumble into you and the man.

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you.” He played up being drunk as he stuck himself between you and Glasses. “Hey, mate, how’s it going? Who are you?”

“I’m Nolan. And we were having a conversation.”

Mick had to hand it to ‘Nolan,’ he was persistent. “My bad, I guess. Y/N, your brother’s looking for you. Come on.”

He walked off and you followed after him. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead. He hadn’t been thinking at all. He was running by the seat of his pants and hoping he didn’t end up making things worse.

Last time he had thought he was helping you, he didn't speak to you for thirteen years.

“My brother left an hour ago.”

“I know.”

Mick kept walking towards the stairs up to VIP.

You kept following.

Maybe this time, things would be different.

.

When Mick was 11, he mentioned to his mom that your dad yelled at you and made you cry. That same day, his dad sat him down and asked him to tell him everything he knew about how Jos Verstappen treated his children.

He had told him everything he knew because he didn’t know why he shouldn’t. If his dad wanted to know, it had to be important. Maybe he would be helping you by telling his dad.

A week later, Mick was playing with you in the backyard when your dad started yelling. Except that time, he wasn’t yelling at you or his most frequent target of your older brother Max, he was yelling at Mick’s dad.

That day had ended with your father dragging you away from Mick. Mick remembers thinking he had grabbed you so roughly; didn’t it hurt to be seized by your arm and jerked around like that?

Jos didn’t care. He just yelled at Mick’s dad to stay away if he had such an issue with how he raised his children. So, the Schumachers stayed away. The last memory Mick had of you was with tears streaming down your face, begging your dad not to make Mick leave.

A little less than ten years later, Mick was a Formula One reserve driver. That same year, you had graduated early from university and earned a spot as a Williams performance engineer. Then, you went to Mercedes in 2021 and took over as George’s racing engineer at only twenty two years of age while Mick was racing with Haas.

"I thought you hated me."

You looked up at him, mouth full. "What? Why would I hate you?"

"For telling my dad about everything. For tearing us apart."

You swallowed your mouthful of sandwich, sat across from him in Mercedes hospitality on your lunch break.

After that night in the club, you and Mick rekindled your old friendship. You looked at him, now. You smiled at him and talked to him and sought him out just to sit and talk during your break.

Getting a second chance to be your friend was more than Mick ever thought he would have.

"Mick, that wasn't your fault. My dad... it's complicated. But our dads' falling out wasn't your fault. I never blamed you for it. You know that, right?"

No, he had not known that. He had spent the last thirteen years blaming himself for losing you. He had assumed you would blame him, too, for ending your friendship because he had spent so long as a self proclaimed scapegoat.

"Mick."

"I know that now."

"Mick!"

"I— Okay, I know it's stupid but I have always blamed myself for the whole situation. Then, when we both were getting into F1, you never reached out."

"You never reached out, either!"

"I know that but I figured you wanted nothing to do with me, so I never tried to talk to you."

"You're so daft sometimes, Schumacher."

Mick took your empty insult without argument.

After spending every free second he had with you over the last several weeks, he realized how dumb he had been. He never thought of himself as the melodramatic type but he had really been going through it when he thought you were avoiding him.

"I've never been the smartest when it comes to you."

You just scoffed at him and ate more of your sandwich.

The next day, it was a double podium for Mercedes with Lewis in P2 and George in third. With your brother on the top step of the podium, you were elated, grin broad and voice loud over the radio as you congratulated George for a race well done.

Then, you looked around the garage. Mick didn't know why until your eyes found him along the back wall. You were looking for him. You smiled (at him) and he was smiling back before he even had to think about it.

Being with you had always been easy. As kids, you never argued. You shared toys and always managed to find some weird, convoluted way to mash what you both wanted to do together.

Now that you had gotten over whatever misunderstandings that kept you apart for the last few years, it was easy again. There was never anything you two couldn't talk about. There was never awkward silence. There was never any want to not be near each other.

Mick spent all night celebrating Mercedes' 2-3 finish with you. It was easy to spend hours by your side, to stand too close, to look at you for too long. Once he had a few drinks, it was all too easy to speak his mind around you, lips loose and heart full.

"I missed you."

"I missed you, too, Micky."

"I mean I really missed you. All the time. I would think about you sometimes and miss what we used to have."

Your eyes were soft and focused only on him. He was barely tipsy from the alcohol but he was definitely drunk on you.

"Then, we were both in F1. But it was the pandemic and I was still worried you didn't want to see me. Then, when I was with Haas, I was so scared to approach you."

"Did I do something to make you think I hated you?"

"No, I was just in my head. And those months preparing for the season with Mercedes were the worst. You were so close but I was still too scared to talk to you."

"I wanted to talk to you, too," you admitted. "I thought about doing it sometimes but... I don't know. We hadn't spoken in so long and I was always so busy. I guess I was scared, too."

"I wish we had spoken sooner. We could have had this so much sooner."

"Had what sooner?"

"I don't know." That was a lie. "This. Us."

In all honesty, Mick didn't know what you two were. To anyone who asked, he would say old friends. But you were much more than that.

When he was ten, Mick kissed you for the first time. He had been in love with you since before he even understood what it meant. There was more heartbreak in the severing of your friendship than your families knew, more than either of you had known at that point.

And now, you were together again. Friends again. Except, friends don't sit knee to knee for hours at a time, wholly absorbed in nothing but each other in a raucous club with post-race celebrations going on all around them.

Friends don't let friends ghost their fingertips over the exposed skin of their shoulders, rest their hands on each other's thighs, play with the ends of their hair or the hem of their clothes.

"I missed us." Mick wondered if you knew what he meant by that.

You smiled (at him, again). "Me, too."

You were so close to him. Any sort of respectable distance was out the window. Your thighs were pressed together. You were sat sideways, head resting in your hand as you leaned an arm on the back of the couch.

He could sit up a little straighter and that was all it would take to reach your lips. He was seriously debating doing it.

Then, your brother smacked the back of your head as he was walking past, said something to you in Dutch that had you cursing at him in the same language.

"Hey, Mick," Max tossed at him with an uncomfortably knowing grin.

"Hey, Max."

Suddenly faced with the older brother of the woman he was just been fantasizing about kissing in the middle of a public space, Mick felt his face grow hot. He couldn't quite make eye contact with the eldest Verstappen child.

"Go away, Max," you told your brother with a glare.

Kelly took pity on you, dragging her boyfriend away.

"What did he say?" Mick asked you.

"'Get a room.'"

Mick laughed nervously, shifted away from you slightly. "Sorry, I—"

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Being with you had always been easy. It was maybe the easiest thing Mick had ever done to nod his head yes and let you drag him out of that club.

You sat too close in the cab ride back to the hotel. He stood too close in the elevator up to his hotel room. You held his arm as he fumbled with the keycard to get the door open.

You pushed at his chest to get him to sit on the edge of the bed. He went down willingly, kept his eyes on you the entire time. You stood between his legs, pushed his hair back, let him lean into your touch.

"Is this okay?" you asked.

Were you seriously asking that? He had turned into putty in your hands from just a few touches. You hadn't even kissed him yet.

"Mick," you insisted at his silence.

"Yes. It's okay. It is so okay. Don't stop. Please."

He couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed by just how easily you had reduced him to begging.

Above him, you smiled before leaning down to press your lips to his. His neck was craned back; you had a hand on the back of his head and one on his shoulder to keep him in place. He let you dictate the pace, let you kiss him however you wanted.

It was slow at first, just your lips on his. You set the tempo low, moved your mouth at a torturous pace. You sucked his bottom lips between both of yours. When your tongue finally poked out, he let his jaw slacken, let you lick into his mouth without a need to fight against it.

You slid your tongue against his. The exchange of saliva was erotic and messy and left Mick panting against you. He gripped the backs of your thighs, adjusted his hips, tangled his fingers in the hem of your dress.

Mick slipped into German as he got lost in want. "Liebe, bitte. Bitte, ich brauche dich." [Baby, please. Please, I need you.]

And you—brilliant, keen, genius you—knew what he was saying. When did you learn German? Did you remember enough of it from all the time you had spent with his family as a child? He had no clue.

"Sei geduldig. We will get there." [Be patient.]

"I have been patient for years. Please, Y/N."

You kissed him again to shut him up, faster, harder, sloppier this time. Your hand slid over the column of his throat, just resting there as nothing but a reminder. He keened into your mouth, the vibration getting caught by your hand.

"I love you," he gasped, out of breath.

You drew back.

Mick's heart stopped.

"You love me?"

He swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing against your hand. "Yes. I have since we were kids. I don't— I don't want this if this is all it will be. I want everything with you. I want you to love me, too."

Somehow, it was still easy for him to lay all his cards on the table, to let you see everything and wait for your verdict. He was terrified, yes, but he trusted you implicitly.

He loved you and only you—he had only ever loved you this desperately and wholly, thirteen years apart be damned.

"I'm in love with you," he said.

You seemed breathless and speechless all at once.

He knows he said too much. It was definitely overwhelming to have all of that said to you with no warning but once he started, he couldn't stop. He had kept it all to himself for so long, watching from afar, never able to get close to you.

Now, here you were. He only hoped he had not read into things that were not there. He looked up at you, ice blue eyes wide and hopeful, patiently awaiting your response.

"I love you, too," you said on an exhale. "I'm in love with you, too. I thought I was crazy for it but I think I've always loved you."

Mick was not entirely convinced that this all wasn't some sick wet dream he would wake up from in the morning. He didn't care. He couldn't care, not when you slid your hand up to his jaw, held his face so gently, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

"It's always been you, Mick."

He couldn't stop himself anymore. He pulled you close, guided your legs to either side of his hips, held your head and kissed you.

Dominance was shared this time as you kissed each other. You sighed into his mouth, a contented and wanting sound. You rested your arms on his shoulders as your tongues danced. His hands pushed up higher under the skirt of your dress, squeezing the soft skin of your upper thighs.

"Okay?" was the simple question he asked before taking things any further.

"Please."

Supporting your weight, Mick lifted you out of his lap and laid you out on your back. Hovering over you, he slid a hand up your dress to your hip. He caught the waistband of your underwear, glanced up at you to make sure.

You nodded.

He got both hands under your dress to pull your underwear off. He pushed your legs apart and you let them fall open, exposing yourself to him and he nearly moaned at the sight alone.

You were laid open and not quite bare with your dress still on but your pretty pink folds were in clear view. He had never expected to have you in any way, let alone spread open and ready to be ravished, but to say he hadn't imagine it two hundred times over would be a lie.

He moved down your body to kiss your left thigh, first closer to your knee then moving up so the soft, supple skin of your inner thigh. He let his breath fan over your pussy, felt the way you twitched at the sensation. Then, he kissed back down your right leg, trailing kisses down to your knee.

"Mick," you urged.

He bit back the repetition of your words about patience from earlier, instead deciding to be nice and lift your knees up over his shoulders, slide his arms under your legs to warp around and hold them in place, then settle in between your thighs like he had nowhere to be for quite some time.

Your folds were glistening in anticipation by the time his lips met them. He kissed over your aching core one, two, three painfully slow times before finally letting his tongue slot against your clit. His lips moved in tandem with his tongue, sucking and licking at the little bundle of nerves until you threw your head back and choked out a throaty moan.

"Mick—please."

That was all the encouragement he needed.

Mick dropped his head to slide his tongue down between your folds, to press at your entrance over and over, lapping at your pussy in a way that could not care about saliva and slick dripping off his chin.

His nose nudged at your clit. Every breath in was nothing but the scent of you ingraining itself in his brain in a way he will never forget. He would never want to forget a single thing about you in that moment.

Not your scent or the taste of your cunt on his tongue. Not the feeling of your fingers tangling in his hair, not pushing or guiding just holding onto him like you just wanted to have your hands on him in any way you could. Not the way you breathed his name halfway between a moan and a cry, or how you arched your back as you were overwhelmed with bliss.

You were coming apart on his tongue and lips and nothing else. If he could save the taste of you and get high on it every night he would. If he could bottle the feeling of you trying not to squirm under the pleasure that he was bringing you, he would drink himself dumb a thousand times over.

"Mick—!"

He hummed in perfect contentment as you cried his name in warning. Your muscles tensed, legs tried to close around his head as he worked you closer and closer to the edge. He just dug in more, ate you out more fervently, slipped his tongue inside of you until you were gasping from the feeling of it.

When he made you come the first time, it was with a cry of his name and panting moans as you bucked your hips up against his face. He worked you through it, kissing and licking at your clit until you were pushing at his head to pull him off.

When he lifted his face from between your thighs, his face was wet, covered in you and he loved it. You laughed breathlessly as you saw him, still shaking slightly from your orgasm.

"Jeez, Mick. When did you learn to go down on a girl like that?"

He was a little lightheaded and a lot pussy drunk, but he still knew better than to mention any girl he'd been with before. "I want you to be the only girl I ever go down on again."

"Good answer," you said, and pulled him up to kiss you as a reward.

You could probably taste yourself on his lips but didn't seem to care as you kissed him hungrily. You tugged at his shirt, so he pulled it over his head. You ran your hands over his torso unabashedly, feeling his stomach and shoulders, bringing goosebumps to his skin as you ran your fingernails down his chest.

Despite having you crumbling apart under his mouth not three minutes ago, when you climbed into his lap and started kissing his neck, Mick felt like he was short circuiting.

Your dress had fallen back over your hips to hide it but he knew you were uncovered underneath the silky fabric. If his pants were off, he could be inside of you right now.

He slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders as you gripped his jaw and tilted his head to the side to kiss at his neck some more. He went pliantly, moaned softly at the feel of your teeth tugging at the sensitive skin where his neck met his clavicle.

He reached around to your back to unzip your dress. When you slid your arms out of the straps and he pulled the top of the dress down, he was finally able to get his hands on your boobs, taking big handfuls of each.

You were still kissing and licking his neck, teasing your teeth against his skin every so often. When he ran his thumbs over your nipples until they were hard under his fingers, your breaths grew shaky. He carefully let his nails drag over the firm peaks, pinched them between his thumbs and forefingers and tugged until you were arching into him.

"So handsy," you commented breathlessly.

"I want to touch every inch of you until you can recognize me by feel alone."

Mick dropped his head between your breasts, kissed the skin there and the side of your boob before you pushed him back. He whined as you deprived him of becoming acquainted with another part of yourself he already knew he would never get enough of.

Then, you stood and stepped out of your dress to leave yourself bare. He couldn't find a reason to complain.

He was prepared to slide to the floor at your feet. Then, you beckoned him toward you.

You had him sit at the edge of the bed again. You dropped to your knees. You popped the button of his pants. You pulled his boxers down just enough, and then his cock was stood at full attention just in front of your face.

He cursed under his breath. You heard it and smirked before licking up the underside of his cock. You wrapped a warm hand around him, stroked him a few times while kitten licking at his tip.

"Y/N. Liebe, please. Y/N, please."

You were not as easily convinced to dive in and give Mick what he wanted as he was with you. You didn't change what you were doing, just continued to let the tip of your tongue dance along the top of his cock while your hand moved on him slowly.

You finally closed your lips over the head of his dick and Mick could have come from that and nothing more. You popped him out of your mouth with an audible noise. Mick groaned; you would be the death of him and he wouldn't even fight against it.

You shot him a Cheshire grin. The sight was lewd and unbelievably hot: you, with a hand around his cock and a big smile on your face like you enjoyed nothing more than sucking him off. Mick was going to combust if he wasn't inside of you in the next two minutes.

"Y/N—"

He tried to tell you as much but your mouth was on him again and he couldn't get the words out. You swirled your tongue around his head, then your jaw opened and and you took as much of him in your mouth as you could. It was warm and wet.

Your tongue flexed against the underside of his dick when it hit the back of your throat. He could feel himself press into your soft pallet until you had to come up for air with a slight gag.

He couldn't bring himself to make you stop when you went back in for more. His breaths were short and labored, legs tense under your free hand as he mentally and physically had to hold himself back from coming down your throat.

He could imagine how you would gag around him when he did, pulling up to take his load just behind your lips instead. You might open your mouth after he had finished, show him your handiwork as it was pooled on your tongue before swallowing it all.

"Y/N, you have to stop. I'm going to come."

You took him out of your mouth to press a sloppy kiss to his cock. You pouted up at him as you let his length rest against your face. He could feel your eyelashes against it when you blinked.

"You don't want me to make you come?"

"I don't want to be spent yet. Come lay down for me?"

You let him pull you off the floor, kissed him as you crawled up the bed and laid yourself out on your back. He managed to kick his pants and boxers off while searching his suitcase for a condom then get back over to you without tripping over his own feet.

You giggled at his eagerness. Your hands ran over his chest as he ripped the packet open and slid the condom on. Your legs were already parted for him as he positioned himself.

He glanced up at you, not nervous but checking in. Your gaze was set on where your two bodies were about to fit together, hungry and expectant. Who was Mick to deprive you of what you wanted?

Entering you was as easy as anything with you was. You were still soaked from Mick's saliva and your own fluids. Your mouth fell open and your walls fluttered around him. A moan croaked past your lips as you gripped his arms.

"Holy shit, Mick."

He had to be sure, so he asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm in fucking ecstasy. Oh my god, baby."

Mick started moving his hips, long, slow strokes in and out as you keened beneath him, panting from almost nothing at all. He could live off the noises you made for him. He snapped his hips against yours, was rewarded with a gasp and startled little mewl and your fingernails digging into his biceps.

"Mick, please."

He continued the same slow pace. In and out, almost languid, near torture but so worth the desperate way you pulled at his shoulders and hips, physically trying to get him to speed up, to give you more.

"Mick. Go faster."

"I love you." Anything for you.

He made a smooth transition from rolling his hips against yours to making them a piston, pace and weight faster and harder. He bore down on you heavier. You cried out, dragging your nails down his back to only spur him on.

He sat back, pressed down on you with his hands on the backs of your knees to fold you in half. You couldn't easily get away from him when he had you pinned down like this, thighs spread wide and pussy bared to be split open on his cock. You tipped your head back and moaned loudly.

"You've got to try and be quiet, baby," he told you; you were still in a hotel.

"You're making it really difficult."

Mick grinned but eased off just a bit. "Sorry—"

"Don't you fucking dare. Fuck me, Schumacher. Fuck me hard."

So, he did.

.

You were sticky, shaking, and more than satisfied when Mick was through with you. Three more orgasms, four different positions, and five I love you's later, you had passed out against Mick's chest after he had carefully wiped you clean.

The next morning, you and Mick came down for breakfast together. Max was already there; you usually ate breakfast with your brother if you were staying in the same hotel because there wasn't much time to see him elsewhere on race weekends.

When he clocked the way you and Mick were so casually close together, the little looks you kept sneaking, he smacked a hand on the table and pointed an accusatory finger in your face.

"I knew it!"

Mick went red.

You just rolled your eyes. "Shut up, Max."

. . .

a/n. this was partially inspired by this one max fic i read a while ago that i couldn't find again. it's schumacher!reader x max and reader is the one to tell michael about how jos treats max then reader and max reconnect years later. i think it was inspired by "seven" by taylor swift.

if anyone can find it/the author lmk and i'll give credit! hope you enjoyed <3

edit: credit is due to @mastermind123 (who i cannot tag for some reason) and their story, seven. go read it; it’s so cute!!

DEAR READER | C.L 16 (TWO)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc X Female OC

Warnings: Physical injury (that’s it, i think)

NOTES: I’m on fire for updating so quickly !!!

If you want to be included on the tag list, please let me know!

PREVIOUS PART/S: ONE

THE BRIGHTNESS OF HER phone burned her irises. Without regard, she swiped her thumb up the screen to read more of the incessant article Charles had shown her. Her forehead creased at the words written but the smirk pulling on her lips said otherwise. Ridicule from the public was nothing new to her. She had been experiencing it since she was caught driving one of Susie’s cars by a tourist in Monaco.

To Natalia’s outmost dismay, the photo spread like a virus. Next thing she knew, countless of rumors were surrounding the internet. It was indeed a difficult time for a collage student like her. Locking herself in her dorm room was not an exaggeration considering the whispers and looks she’d receive when she would walk down the hall.

For a solid 2 weeks, people saw her as, and she recalls this with a nauseating feeling; Toto Wolff’s side piece.

Ultimately it died down after she had given in to Toto’s demands to let him put out a statement. Since then, the issue had been resolved, much to her delight.

“Are you planning to cook your eyes?”

She waved her hand, signaling for him to keep his eyes on the road. The pitch black atmosphere with nothing but the headlights guiding their way reminded Natalia of a horror game. As if lanky creature were to appear in from of their vehicle and cause a deathly accident. Without the light of her device, her heart would probably be thumping loudly in her chest.

“Scramble them, actually . . .” She replied.

The driver ignored her sarcasm, opting to put on music.

“You can go to sleep, you know.” Charles looked at her, rolling his eyes as he saw the concentration on her face. “I knew I shouldn’t have shown you that. . .”

Natalia shook her head, a hand cupping her mouth as her shoulder rumble with mirth. “It’s just— It surprises me, how in the world is it possible to sound so idiotic each time?” Her voice was a bit isolated from the barrier of her hand, glancing at Charles. “They never miss, to be honest. . .”

He hummed, tucking his lips in behind his lips, amusement also lifting up his energy.

“I mean, look at this, apparently you’re asking for Toto’s blessing to ask for my hand in marriage!” She fell into a series of hysterics, losing her chain of self control. Saying it out loud was far more ludicrous than she had thought.

Charles also seem to think the same as he allowed himself to laugh with her, mouth splitting into a wide grin. He had expected a reaction from the people. Natalia and him shared the burden of being constantly linked to the every opposite gendered person they interact with regardless of the settings and the other people present.

Natalia’s laughter about the article imminently faded, leaving the soft roars of the engine and the cold whispers of the air conditioning to fill the silence.

After a moment, Charles stole a glance at Natalia, eyes immediately returning forward as he found that he was already looking at him.

Natalia blocked the unattractive snort threatening to turn into laughter at Charles’ quick head turn. She could’ve sworn he had a whiplash.

“What?”

She raised her brows at his bothered tone, choosing to lean more into his side. “I’m just looking at you. What’s wrong with that?”

Charles’ fingers that gripped wheel tightened as her taunting tone filled his ears. “I didn’t say anything was wrong with it—”

“It sounded like you have a problem with it, though.” Natalia interjected, easing her temple on the headrest.

Besides her taunting attitude, the fact that she refused to quit staring at him brought a flaming annoyance to his mind.

Charles heaved a sigh, tapping his fingers on the leather cover of his wheel. His focused returned fully on the road, trying to block out the intense mahogany orbs that were intently seeking for his demise.

“Do you wanna play a game?”

No, Charles wanted earplugs. Or better yet, a gigantic headset that had the volume of a million megaphones.

But of course, a fight was not on his list of tonight. He bobbed his head, sending her the inquiry, “What are we playing?”

“20 questions, truth or dare . . .” Natalia pursed her lips in thought, shifting her gaze to the roof of the car as if she’d find more written there. “I was going to say I spy, but there’s nothing to see. So— you pick,”

Charles mulled over the usual car games before picking the one he think he’d get the most out of.

“20 question, then.” He glared at Natalia as she snorted at his answer.

“Typical,”

“You made me choose—”

“Yeah— yeah, alright. Calm down, damn.” Natalia wheeled her eyes, pleating her arms together. “You go first, since you picked.”

“Alright,” Charles clicked his tongue, drumming his fingers on the shift stick. “Did you have a pet growing up?”

Natalia casted a sidelong glance at him, mouth parting a few times before she finally realized he was serious. “That’s so lame!” She laughed, whacking him in the shoulder.

The Monegasque’s head tilted in puzzlement to which Natalia replied, “Ask more personal questions. If I was gonna ask you what your favorite color was, I wouldn’t even bother.”

Charles face sagged at her statement, mocking her by making faces. “Okay—” He narrowed his eyes as he racked his brain for a satisfying question. After a moment, he finally found one.

“Do you plan on going back to the Philippines after you graduate?”

All the active expressions fell from her face at the question, a stiffening dread constricting her word as she tried to form a coherent response.

“I haven’t thought about it—” The coiling vice in her tongue gripped at her vocabulary. “Most likely. . . If my passport is uh. . . yeah, then I think. . .” She clamped her mouth shut, noticing her excessive babbling.

“A yes or no would’ve been fine,” Charles murmured.

Natalia scoffed, running her fingers through her hair, hoping to banish the tremors forming in her nerves. “It’s something I only think about when I’m drunk,”

Charles nodded, not expecting that but her tone was enough indication not to pry any further.

In spite of knowing Natalia for almost a year now, Charles had had realized how little they knew about each other. Not to say that he was actually keen on getting to know her. However as circumstances have shifted rapidly in the last few hours, they might have to expand their knowledge about one another.

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Crickets. Much like the ones cartoons put over the background to serve as a comedic effect to characters who had heard something that the other seem to find hilarious.

In real life, however, the crickets were not funny in any way as Natalia’s jaw nearly banged on the floor, contradictory to Fred Vasseur’s ever-delighted face. If only she had the bone to tell that sweet-looking man that she’d rather eat the concrete than—

“Excuse me,” She said, palms starting to sweat as she peered at Fred. “I thought this was for journalism. . . training? No?”

“Oh, yes! Certainly, but Toto told us you were also interested in social media management,” He looked at her expectantly.

Despite his unwavering smile, the gentle touch on Natalia’s arm scorched in overpowering puzzlement. Every single word had been silenced except the ones; Toto and social media management.

“Well yes, but— not Charles’. . .”

She cowered away as Fred raised a question brow at her direction but slowly modified into a comforting grin. “Not to worry, there would be someone guiding you through it,”

Fred landed soft taps on Natalia’s shoulder, which she thought were supposed to be a symbol of reassurance. It proved to have done little, as the electrifying anxiety continued excruciating hike at her sanity.

Disregarding the supposed heat of the sun raying on her skin, the circulation of the chilly axis running down her body seemed to overthrow the rising temperature of the Italian summer.

“With the break ending soon and the start of the Belgian race, we thought it would be wise to have a ‘Gen Z’ handle Charles social media image. . .”

Natalia whirled around at the presences of the new voice.

A dark haired man, sporting an outgrown buzz cut sauntered behind her. He had a blue stripped dress shirt neatly tucked into his black slacks. His shoes shone despite looking like he had been running around for most of the day.

“Hello,” He lengthened his arm towards Natalia, who received his hand in a friendly shake. “I’m Nicolas Todt, Charles’ Manager. Nice to meet you, Ms. Valle,”

Natalia screwed her face up mentally at the formal address of her name. “It’s nice to meet you too. Natalia’s fine,” she thinned her lips as he merely nodded at her.

Just perfect, she thought, as she mustered a small smile.

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According to Nicolas, due to the increasing number of young fans, it was best to market Charles’ presence to fit their crowd. Given that Natalia’s part of the tech-savy generation, she had ample knowledge of the newest trends and sensations.

While that was true, Natalia could not believe the enjoyment she was getting from this job. With just a week in, she had gotten to witness Charles take an obscene amount of pictures while she aided with the angles and poses that might interest his fans.

What’s not very enjoyable though, was directing a bunch of rowdy boys for a photo op on a yacht. Their voices subdued the authority in Natalia’s instructions, ultimately forcing her to stand on a stool to capture their attention.

Annoyance painted her face, putting her hands together near her mouth to create a louder echo.

“HEY!”

Effectively, their boisterous behavior came to a halt, heads collectively whirling around to where she was. Natalia glowered at them, pinching her eyebrows with her fingers.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Eyes narrowed, she glared at them.

Whipping their heads around as if they’d find the answer stuck on teh each others foreheads was enough for Natalia.

Charles sat back, watching as pure frustration consumed Natalia whole. He raised a hand to beckon his friends.

“Alright, that’s enough guys. Let’s take the picture. . .” He met Natalia’s pointed gaze as the lot of them obeyed his command to approach him. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

As if I have a choice, her leering glare didn’t desolate, but her features softened at the quiet surroundings.

She took a deep breath, gesturing at the pontoon boat seat for them to take a seat. Once half of them were all aligned in a row, the other half stood behind the yacht seat. She tilted her head, shaking it in disapproval.

“You— and you—” She motioned at the two tallest men sat on the coach. “Please switch with them.” The men called out looked behind them to see who she was pointing at.

A satisfied grin drew on her lips as the men shuffled their places, gaining the perfect proportions Natalia had envisioned.

“Right, then!” Her voice blarred through the quiet atmosphere of Monaco, receiving amused glances from Charles and his friends at her change of mood. “You look like 1D’s frat boy era,”

The comment visibly went over their heads, gawking at her with confusion. Unwavering, Natalia simply waved them off, keeping the reference to herself.

It took her awhile to digest that American pop culture doesn’t transcend here in this country as much as it did in the Philippines. When she first came here, she was a bit sad that none of her four other college roommates were fans of Taylor Swift. Granted, not everyone has to be one. However, after scouting through the campus, the amount Swifties were barely a fourth of the school.

That being said, their unfamiliarity with her vocabulary was no longer a surprise. Also, they were men.

She watched as Antoine Truchet, Charles’ photographer, paced around the yacht, a camera clutched on his hand, searching for the best lighting. Her eyes then slid to the occupants of the sofa, automatically angling her head to get a better view of Charles. He sat at the center, thighs spread with a smug smirk toying at his lips.

Natalia felt a tug at her chest as a mirthful laugh escaped his lips at how Antoine was struggling at his now awkward position. The loud splash of the waves beside their boat was astronomically awakening, as though the cold grip of the waves had slapped her in the face.

She willed her unbelievably awful thoughts into something more appropriate, finding comfort at the part of her brain which appreciated the beauty of Monaco— not the Monegasque—

She gritted her teeth, wanting to combust into a tiny million particles. Biting her lips, she suppressed a scream as the urge to pull her hair out flooded her thoughts.

She was working, for god’s sake. Ogling at a sun-kissed, unruly haired man with a conventionally white shirt unbuttoned halfway was extremely unprofessional.

The camera loves that man’s face, that’s for sure.

There was nothing attractive by the way the last rays of the sun caressed his skin. Nothing special at the immaculate glow it created that made him look like a heaven-sent blessing— not even when he stares at her like that— he’s staring at her.

Panic engulfs her lungs, causing her shifting feet to slip on the matted steps of her stool. Her heart felt like it fell with her body, a clamorous bang resounding through the air the impact.

A agonized groan emitted from Natalia’s mouth as she landed on her arm. She heard a series of movements, coming closer to her. Soon, the brilliant view of the sky was replaces by different faces, worry sketched out in their features as she clutched her injured arm with her hand.

“Joris, appelle un médecin,” The calm voice amongst the chattering crowd tickled her ears, heart pounding at the same hands that slid themselves beneath her waist. She was carefully turned to the left, similar to a figurine that could shatter with one wrong move.

What was médecin, again? Medicine? Or is medic?

This was one of the times Natalia hates not being fluent in his native language. Withering in excruciating pain and having to rummage through her awful French lingo wasn’t a pleasant combination.

His eyes appeared in her vision, one flooding with an unexplainable expression. It was the first time she’d seen them this close. Resembling the calm of the ocean, gracefully soaring up to the skies, as if he took the ravishing sight of spring on claimed it as his own. His green eyes swam with a remarkable dose of electrifying energy, it’s almost appalling how much enchantment it held.

At her trace, his lips moved without sound until his calloused finger were introduced to the searing heat of her face. His digits gripped her cheeks, squeezing the supple skin to get her attention.

Charles released as sigh of relief as her unfocused eyes returned to normal. “It’s alright, just breath yes?” He whispered, getting ready to move her. “I’m going to put you on the coach, okay?”

The subtle nod was all he needed before he proceeded to lend strength to the arm under her, supporting her weight as he lifted her body onto the cushions of the seat.

Soft distressed ‘sorry’s’ escape his mouth as Natalia whimpered, shutting her eyes tightly at the sudden pressure on her side.

Another person took over Charles’ place on her side, who she believed to be the medical assistant they had summoned.

Maybe if it weren’t for the adrenaline coursing in her veins and the soothing touch of a certain someone, she would’ve been screaming from the pain.

As black spots started popping into her vision, the embarrassment what happened plagued her mind.

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In the yacht’s cabin, Natalia sat comfortably on a king sized bed, head leaning against the small window of the yacht with her legs crossed. She watched as the small waves did their repetitive dance, lulling the boat into a cadence sway.

Susie had called her as soon as she heard the news, scrambling to get as much details about her condition in a panicked state. Natalia instantly felt terrible for causing such trouble, quickly brushing away the apprehension in Susie’s mind and substituting it with consolation.

She seemed to calm down when Charles took the phone, explaining to her. “Yes, Ms. Wolff. There is no problem—” From his back towards Natalia, he twisted his head to catch her gaze from where she was sat. The brunette girl fidgeted with the sleeve of her sweater, careful not to agitate the muscles in her arm.

Charles wasn’t at all religious by any means, but he found himself thanking Natalia’s angels for not allowing her to break a bone in her body. Thankfully, all she got was a minor sprain which would be cured by pain medication and bed rest.

“Yes, Ma’am. Will do,” He nodded at Susie’s list of requests, striding to his jittery company. He dipped his head, a an arm anchoring his weight as he placed himself beside her. His thumb brushing against Natalia’s cheek. Without thinking, he stroked his finger on the skin, lightly pressing, feeling a rushing comfort at the touch.

Natalia, however, was gawking at him, beginning to rack her brain as to what the hell was happening. But he couldn’t comprehend anything as she drowned beneath his intense gaze and the intoxicating contact of his narcotic hands.

She overlooked the fact that he had ended the call, until his face was inches from her own, breath fanning on her flushed skin. Blood rushed rapidly onto her veins at their ridiculously close proximity. She noticed that at this distance, his eyes looked more like a blown out galactic dream.

They were near enough that if one of them were to lean forward—

The creak of the door awkened them from the hypnotic depths of their minds, scrambling away from each other darting to the opposite sides of the room.

“How’s it—”

Jorris stopped, looking at Charles who had a hand on his neck, scratching an area that appeared to itch a lot. He moved his observance to Natalia. She was facing away from Charles, eyes raking down at the furniture at the right side of the room, seeming to find it rather interesting.

“Are you okay?” His accented voice, dropped the question.

The occupants of the cabin then, looked at him, like a pair of deers caught in headlights. They both blinked back at him, offering no helpful response.

He raised his hands in defeat, turning back to walk out. “Fine, no one wants to talk to Jorris . . .” He muttered, after exiting the realm of the gaping fishes.

When he left, Natalia and Charles kept glacing at each other before Natalia had the strength to let a word out.

“You should probably. . .” She imitated a shooing motion over the door.

Charles nodded, understanding her order. “If— If you need anything— I’ll be—” He used his thumb as a pointer, indicating the spot where he’ll be staying, stumbling upon his word.

“Go, Charles—” Natalia sighed, running a hand through her face to hide the betraying expression that threatened to expose her disturbing feelings.

“I am going. . .” He hastily zapped out of the room but not before turning back, only to be greeted by Natalia’s deadly stare. He took that as the last warning, slamming the door shut in the process.

At the wake of the silence, Natalia whacked her head on the wall, which was unfortunately covered with a cushioned headboard that protected her skull from shattering into a million pieces.

Reaching for the pillow in front of her, she drew it near her chin, digging her face on top of the soft surface before screaming her lungs out.

Her fingers clutched the covering of the pillow, shoving her face deeper, hoping it would drown out the noise that spilled out of her mouth as agitation devoured her entire being.

Outside her door, stood a figure with his arms crossed, slightly leaning on the door. A knowing smile weaved his lips at the entertaining series of events before walking away to join Charles and their mates.

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Tags: @charizznorizz @itsjustkhaos