If You’re Like Me And You Only Watch F1 For Free, Here Are Some Free Sites You Can Watch It Live At:

Alex Albon

The DNF Club ~ @bunnys-kisses

1.7K / SMUT

My Boyfriend's Boyfriend ~ @5sospenguinqueen

Social Media / Fluff, Humour, Suggestive

If You Had The Guts ~ @verstappen-cult

383 / Fluff

Until I Found You ~ @lenoraah

Social Media / Fluff

Road Trip ~ @lenoraah

Social Media / Fluff

Childhood Friends To... Already Lovers? ~ @lovewithmary

Social Media / Fluff

Little Life ~ @f1version

Social Media / Fluff

As Good As New ~ @81folklore

Social Media / Fluff

Taking Care of You When You're Sick ~ @verstappen-cult

127 (Alex's section) / Fluff

Christmas Movie ~ @charlesslut16

537 / Fluff

Forever? ~ @silverstonesainz

227 / Fluff

Bump In The Night ~ @lovelytsunoda

1.8K / SMUT

Golfing With Him ~ @silversainz

494 / Fluff

I Am So In Love With You ~ @sainzfilm

700 / Fluff

Everyday By Your Side ~ @spicyclover

937 / Fluff

Home ~ @vax-merstappen

635 / Fluff

Dress ~ @formulaforza

204 / Fluff, Suggestive

Take A Break ~ @vamossainz55

716 / Fluff

Cat Parents ~ @lenoraah

223 / Fluff

Mum, Dad & Eggie ~ @f1version

Social Media / Fluff

Taking Care of Their Drunk GF ~ @povlnfour

174 (Alex's section) / Fluff

Hoodie Szn ~ @chillielo

439 / Fluff

She's A Lady ~ @chillielo

368 / Fluff

How The F1 Grid React Coming Home To Find You’d Fallen Asleep on The Sofa Waiting For Them ~ @vinvantae

115 (Alex's section) / Fluff

Attending The Eras Tour ~ @verstappen-cult

100 (Alex's section) / Fluff

Slow Mornings ~ @verstappen-cult

68 / Fluff

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

F1 masterlist 🌶️🌶️

Charles Leclerc:

Charles x Vasseur!Daughter smut. - Part 2

Charles x Schumacher!Daughter OC. - Part 2- Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5… in the works.

Carlos Sainz Jr:

Carlos x CelebReporter part 1. - part 2- part 3- part 4 - part 5… in the works. Carlos x CelebEx! Reader. Carlos x AlonsoGirlfriend! Reader.

Daniel Ricciardo:

Daniel x HornerDaughter! Reader - smut- part 2- part 3- part 4- part 5- part 6- part 7- part 8- part 9- part 10- part 11- part 12- part 13 - part 14

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader SpiceDaniel Ricciardo x DrunkReader! Fluff - he does your skin care.

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader ~ Thigh Riding 18+. Fernando Alonso:

Fernando x YoungerReader! Smut - Fernando is a colleague of your dad. 18+. Fernando x YoungerCelebReader! Smut - You come into the paddock interviewing drivers and meet Alonso for the first time. It’s fair to say you make a good impression. 18+. Fernando x CelebEx! Smut - Fernando and Lila have been split for a year after her move to Australia. But during the GP there, when they bump into one another, old times are relived. Fernando x Reader headcanons - some sfw and some nsfw headcanons based on if Nando was your boyfriend. Fernando x Reader Smut - Fernando is wound up, just a Drabble on how he takes it out on you…

Jenson Button: 2009 Jenson X CelebReader! Headcanons. 2009 Jenson X CelebReader! Headcanons p2. Jenson x reader smut - Jenson and his girlfriend join the mile-high club and attempt to sneak off in a jet full of people.

Lance Stroll:

Lance Stroll X HornerBFFReader! Smut.

Lando Norris: Lando x SainzSisterReader!

Lewis Hamilton:

Lewis X Reader - Smut - sex on an F1 car.

Max Verstappen:

Max x HornerDaughter! Reader Headcannons. Max x CelebEx! Reader - Angst. - part 2 - part 3… in the works. Max x HornerDaughter!

in which Max admits to his close friend, and team principles daughter, that he’s in a not so enjoyable relationship… part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6. part 7. part 8. part 9. part 10. part 11. part 12. part 13. part 14. part 15. part 16. part 17. part 18. part 19 in the works…

Sebastian Vettel:

Sebastian x RedBull Design Engineer OC. - part 2. - part 3. - part 4. - part 5. - part 6. - part 7. - part 8. - part 9. - part 10.

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

Poor Charlotte had to wrangle two babies throughout the paddock who got distracted by everything they saw 😭😭😭

middle man — arthur leclerc

pairing. arthur leclerc x ferrari driver!fem!reader

summary. you never set out to date your teammate's brother. in fact, it took arthur months just to convince you to go on a single date, but charles' opinion of you hit an all time low after he became aware of your relationship and nothing you did seemed to help mend your previously strong partnership. when charles takes it a step too far, you decide that you’ve had enough of it. 6.7k, 18+

warnings. injury, descriptions of injury, smut, dom/sub dynamic (sub!reader), fingering (fem receiving), impact play, penetrative sex, mirror sex

. . .

The slightest of contact was all it took. That was all it ever took. One second, you were making the overtake for P2, and the next, you were in the wall.

There was barely time to brace. Barely any time to hit the brakes. Reaction time was trained, drilled, conditioned into you until it became second nature. Thank god it was, otherwise, you might not have walked away from this one.

Your ears were ringing when you opened you eyes after impact. Your vision was swimming but you were conscious. You heard the cadence of the question in your ear more than you could actually understand the words being said.

Are you okay? Y/N, are you okay?

You weren't really sure if you were but your mind went to those that were watching the race, your fans, your team, your family, your friends. Arthur. They needed to hear you say that you were okay. The gritty details could come later.

"I'm good. We're good. That was a rough one, huh?"

You're sure that the pain was still evident in your voice. It was unavoidable after however many Gs of force you just withstood in that crash. You turned the engine off, took a moment to center yourself.

You had crashed. You were a Formula One driver. It was the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, the fourth race of your second season with Ferrari after your Haas contract expired two years ago.

Your boyfriend's name was Arthur Leclerc. Privately (and jokingly), you called him Artie because it made him cringe and you thought it was funny. He was your teammate's little brother.

He was the first person to make it to the circuit medical center after you had been loaded into the medical car. He was shaking as he hugged you, not from fear but from restraint, not wanting to hurt you by squeezing you as tightly as he wanted to.

"You are okay? Tell me you are okay."

"I'm fine, baby."

"I could strangle Max Verstappen sometimes. 'Leave the space' must only apply to others."

"Arthur, it's okay. It's just part of the sport."

He looked you over for a moment more before catching your mouth in a searing kiss. It spoke volumes, and you understood exactly what he meant by it.

I deeply respect your love of the sport but I would burn the FIA and the whole world to the ground if it meant keeping you safe.

"I love you," he said when he pulled back.

"Je t'aime," you returned.

That exchange of I love you's in your and Arthur's respective native languages of English and French had been a staple of your relationship since very early on. Your first "I love you" had been in each other's mother tongue. It had stuck ever since.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes,” you insisted, “A little dizzy, but okay.”

“Dizzy? You did not say you were dizzy.” That was the doctor that had checked you for any signs of a concussion.

You turned to face her. “Yes, but I had—“

You lost your balance as you turned. Your typical coordination escaped you and Arthur had to catch you to stop you from tipping sideways.

The doctor pulled out a phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. You’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m fine—“

“Mon coeur, please sit down,” Arthur urged.

Your calm but obviously worried boyfriend refused to leave your side even when it meant leaving for the hospital before the end of the race. You tried to convince him to stay for his brother but he wasn’t having it.

In the hospital room after you had completed all the precautionary brain scans, Arthur checked his phone.

"Maman is asking about you," he said. "Lorenzo, too."

You both took note of the lack of another of his family member’s text message, but you had grown all too used to it. It was easier not to comment on it.

"Tell them I'm fine."

"I will tell them we are waiting on your test results."

"Don’t worry them. I’m fine, Arthur.”

"We will know that once they have gotten their results."

Arthur had a very convincing poker face but this needless argument showed how concerned he truly was. He kept worrying his bottom lip between his teeth whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

You tugged on your intertwined hands to pull him closer. “Hey. I’ll be fine. It’s probably just a concussion.”

“You cannot know.”

“Then, call it positive thinking.”

Before anything more could be said, the doctor returned with the results of your tests.

You were okay, only a concussion as you had thought. You had a fair amount of bruising and a bit of whiplash to commemorate one of the worst crashes of your career but other than that, you seemed fine.

They still wanted to keep you overnight for observation but you should recover in a timely fashion.

When the doctor left, you only had time to shoot Arthur an “I told you so” look before his phone started ringing. The caller ID showed his second eldest brother’s name.

He answered in French, a language you knew almost fluently after living in Monaco since your rookie season. You had really buckled down to learn the language after beginning to date Arthur.

“Hello? ... I am at the hospital with Y/N. … I know but congratulations on third. Sorry I missed the celebrations.”

You couldn’t hear what Charles was saying, only your boyfriend’s responses. It was now over two hours since the end of the race. Charles must have only just gotten time to call Arthur.

“I know I am, but Y/N was dizzy and the doctor was concerned and I couldn’t just leave her. … She is part of Ferrari, too. I have a duty to both her and the team. … I was not needed at the garage. … And I said I’m sorry I missed your podium but I wasn’t going to leave her alone. What if something happened?”

You sunk back into your hospital bed. They were fighting again. Because of you.

You and Charles had been rookies together back in 2018. You had started your F1 career at Williams before moving through Haas to where you were now, your second year at Ferrari.

You were a handful of years younger than Charles and he had always treated you like a little sister. When you got the Ferrari contract, Charles was over the moon. You remember him going on a half hour tangent about how much fun it would be having you as a teammate, how excited he was for the next two years.

Charles adored you. At least, he used to, before you and Arthur told him you had started seeing each other.

Since then, Ferrari has been a minefield.

Charles was distant and cold. He stopped sending TikToks and stopped laughing at your memes. He unfollowed you on Instagram for about a week before the Ferrari PR team made him follow you again.

The PR department was working well past overtime thanks to you and Charles. You had learned not to try and approach him even when there were cameras around because he would continue to ignore you and it would further fuel the drama mill.

You missed your friend. You missed the fun you two had last year as teammates.

Now, you were with Arthur. And you loved him. And he made you so happy. But you missed being able to talk to Charles without him looking at you like you were the gum on the bottom of his shoe.

Arthur’s voice had gotten sharper the longer he spoke to Charles. “Not that you bothered to ask but Y/N is fine, by the way. We had to go to the hospital to scan her brain and make sure but she would be. Not like you’d care.”

Arthur hung up and tossed his phone onto a table where he couldn’t reach it. You reached out for his hand and he took it, kissing your knuckles and sighing deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Do not apologize. This is not your fault.”

“It feels like it is.”

“It is not. It is Charles being impossible for no reason. Before we were dating, he—“

He adored you. He called you mon ange. He praised your driving any time he could. He invited you to dinners with his family, which was how you got to know Arthur outside of racing.

Now, Charles couldn’t stand the sight of you. It hurt, you weren’t going to lie. Charles was your teammate and friend, but more importantly, he was Arthur’s brother.

You didn’t feel it was your place to try and close the gap gouged between you and Charles, not when he was Arthur’s family. You didn’t want to complicate things further, didn’t want to try and repair your friendship before the bond between brothers was mended.

“Maybe…”

You lacked the confidence to continue your thought. You didn’t want to suggest what you were about to, even if it could potentially fix everything.

You were selfish when it came to Arthur. You didn’t like sharing him and you especially didn’t want to let him go.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

“What? No? No. Why? No. Why would you want to—? Have I done something wrong? Why would you say that?”

You were quick to reassure him. “No, no, no, baby, it’s not that. I was just thinking that it might be a good idea to take a bit of time and come back to this in the off season. When Charles can separate me as your girlfriend from me as his teammate.”

“No,” he insisted. “No. I do not want him to ruin this any more than he already has. I do not want to take a break.”

“Okay. That’s okay. It was just a suggestion.” One that you were thankful Arthur objected to so vehemently.

“It is a dumb suggestion. I do not want a break. I will never want a break from you.”

“Okay.”

You let him lean in and kiss you. It seemed that Arthur was selfish with you, as well.

.

You were no stranger to Charles Leclerc’s yacht. You had spent many nights attending parties hosted by your friend on his impressive vessel and even more days lounging around or exploring islands along the Monaco coast.

But ever since Charles found out about you and Arthur, you hadn’t been invited back. Until the weekend between races, a week after your crash.

And you hadn’t exactly been invited, it was more that Charles had been told by his mother that you would be spending the day with the family and there was no getting out of it. Though, as the day stretched on and tensions grew higher, you were really wishing that you were the one who could have gotten out of going.

Your concussion wasn’t as severe as originally feared. Your ribs were still tender and the skin of your torso bruised but you were set to race at Miami next week as long as your checkup in a few days went well.

Arthur sat down beside you on the large daybed you had taken to reading on. It was shaded and secluded enough to be comfortable but not so far from the main seating area that you couldn’t easily rejoin the larger group. It was where you had usually set up camp whenever aboard Charles’ yacht.

Your boyfriend handed you the fizzy, non-alcoholic beverage you had requested. He accepted a kiss as gratuity.

“What are you reading?”

“One of those spicy fantasy novels you make fun of me for.”

“Oh, the porn books.”

“They’re not porn books!”

Arthur just laughed because he liked teasing you. He laid his head in your lap. You, of course, let him because you were not actually upset.

You smoothed the hair off his forehead lovingly.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not hurting?”

“No. I’ve been doing my stretches and using bruise cream. I’ll be right as rain next weekend.”

Arthur seemed pleased with that answer. “Will you read to me?”

You regarded the content on the page you were open to. “I’m not exactly at a publicly appropriate chapter.”

“Am I not a better option than ink on paper?”

“You are not always readily available.”

“You are far more busy than me. You are always away from me.”

“Exactly. I need something to do with all my free time in my hotel room. All alone. Just me. And my hands all over… my latest smutty book.”

“You kill me, woman,” Arthur groaned, sitting up to kiss you.

You let out a peel of laughter when Arthur pushed you onto your back. You two were not in the habit of making your close friends and family uncomfortable with excessive PDA, so Arthur abandoned kissing you to pin you down, gentle and conscientious of your torso.

“Okay! Okay, you’re better!”

Arthur leaned down over you. “Better than what?”

“You’re better than my books.”

“Good.”

He kissed you, then wiggled his fingers against your neck to make you shriek.

“Arthur, Y/N. Come eat!” Pascale called the two of you over to the group.

Arthur helped you sit up, then held out a hand to help you down the steps to the deck below because god forbid you take the three stairs on your own. You didn’t mind; you liked that he wanted to help you, even with things you didn’t need him for.

You smiled at Arthur, able to forget about the Leclerc civil war for a moment. Then, you turned toward where everyone else was sitting in the main seating area.

Charles was glaring daggers.

Your stomach dropped. You pulled your hand free from Arthur’s to fix your hair then didn’t take it again when you were done.

Arthur looked at you odd, noticed where you were glancing. He glared back just as hard at his older brother.

“Arthur,” you muttered in reproach.

“If maman was not here, I swear I would smack him across the face.”

“Arthur, please.”

After the race in Azerbaijan was over, after podium celebrations and post-race interviews, Charles had spoken a little too loudly about how it was your fault that you had crashed, that it was what happened when you "still drive like a rookie five years into your career."

The video that some random clubgoer had managed to capture of your teammate badmouthing you while you spent the night in the hospital for observation had gone more than a little viral.

To hear him talk about you like that just made you sad. You didn't have the energy to be mad over it.

Arthur did not share those feelings. When he first saw the video, it was everything you could do to keep Arthur from charging halfway across Monaco to kick his brother's door in. Instead, you anxiously sat on the couch in your living room as he and his brother shouted at each other over the phone.

If it wasn't for Pascale's not at all subtle attempts to get her boys to make up, you and Arthur never would have come today. But she was your boyfriend's mother. She would not accept a refusal of her invitation for today.

You ended up sat beside Arthur and about as far from Charles as possible as sandwiches and chips were passed around. You kept making eye contact with Pascale, awkwardly smiling whenever you did before glancing away.

"Charles, do you have any more wine on this boat?" Pascale asked.

Charles stood. "I'll go get some."

"Arthur, why don't you help your brother?"

You held your breath. You truly admired the balls on that woman, and the unapologetically obvious pursuit of making her sons make up. When you glanced at Arthur, almost hopeful, you saw the dark edge to his gaze as he looked at his brother; he was still too angry to be left alone with Charles.

You didn't believe Arthur would actually slap or physically harm Charles in any way but things would not be made better by Arthur confronting his brother right now.

"I'll help," you said before Arthur had to respond. "Lead the way, Charlie."

You false enthusiasm shriveled into nothingness by the time you reached the stairs down to the bar. You trailed after him below deck, staying several paces behind.

Charles was silent as he began opening cupboards. He hadn't so much as looked at you when you took his younger brother's place in assisting him.

"Charles, I—"

"I do not want to hear it, Y/N."

You swallowed around the nervousness trying to clog up your throat. "Are you ever going to let me explain?"

"There is nothing to explain. You are my teammate. Arthur is my brother. You both go behind my back to start dating each other and do not care of what it will affect."

"Believe me, we've talked about it. At length. We know it's a risk."

"And you do not care," Charles concluded, ducking down below the bar and out of view as he continued his search.

"No, we decided it was worth it." You took a breath. "I don't know how to talk about how in love with your brother I am without making you uncomfortable but if I had to choose between him and racing, I would hesitate."

That statement may not sound all that impressive but Charles had once said to you—after many, many drinks following a successful race weekend for Ferrari—that he would know he truly loved a woman if when he had to choose between her and never racing again, he hesitated.

As a fellow driver, you understood exactly what he meant. That was what you felt for Arthur. That was what the youngest Leclerc meant to you. That was how hopelessly in love you were.

"I love Arthur, I really do. And I know it's messy and complicated and whatever else but I don't care about that. At the end of the day, I am happier with Arthur than I have been in a really long time."

Charles was silent behind the bar. He was still ducked down. It felt like you were monologuing to an empty room. It made it a little easier to continue.

"While I am willing to put a little strain on my career for my relationship, what I have never wanted to put strain on is your relationship with your brother. I never wanted anything like this to happen.

“I never wanted to go behind your back. I never would have pursued my feelings for Arthur if he hadn’t been so persistent but he wore me down and I couldn’t tell him no.

“I am truly sorry for breaking your trust. But I cannot stop loving your brother. I will not let him go just because you cannot accept us, despite all the difficulties it may come with.”

Two bottles of wine appeared on the bar top just before Charles stood upright again. He still would not look at you.

"If you can't forgive me for pursuing a member of your family, that's fine. I understand. But Arthur is your little brother; do not throw that away because of me.

"Hate me. Be mad at me. Ignore me on media days. Unfollow all my socials. Make the entire world think you despise me. I don't care; just don't take it out on Arthur.

"I am not worth you two falling out."

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Charles finally looked you in the eye. You held his gaze, imploring him to listen to what you were saying.

His expression did not change the longer he surveyed you. Then, he took the bottles of wine, walked right past you without another word, and went back above deck.

.

"That is it?" Arthur asked as you recounted the events to him later that night.

He was sat on the lid of the toilet as you washed your face before you two were going to settle in to watch a movie.

"Then, I told him I'm not worth you two falling out over and he walked away. Without a word. Just back up the stairs and that was that."

"You are."

"Are what?"

"Worth falling out over."

You sighed. "Arthur—"

"You are. I am serious."

"Arthur, I'm not going anywhere. You don’t have to choose between me and Charles; I don’t want you to.”

“I am not losing you because of him.”

“I’m not asking you to compromise. I’m not letting you go because of Charles, either, but we have to try and make this work. He’s your brother. That has to mean something to you.”

“He is being unreasonable.”

“Have you even tried to talk to him about it? Or have you just been pretending nothing’s changed?”

“Nothing has changed," he said stubbornly.

“Okay, that's one of the problems."

"It should not matter that we're dating."

"No, it should. And it does. I'm dating my teammate's brother; that is going to change some things. You do recall the HR meeting all of us had to suffer through, don't you?"

Shortly after telling Charles of your relationship, you and Arthur had gone to Ferrari to make them aware as well. There had been no major backlash from the team but there had been a several-hours-long meeting with HR and PR that you, Arthur, and Charles all had to be present for.

Arthur physically shuddered at the memory. "Do not remind me."

"Us being together changes things. You cannot ignore it and hope everything will blow over."

"He hasn't even apologized to you."

"Worry about me later. Fix your relationship with your brother before it's too late."

"Y/N, you are not understanding. I cannot fix my relationship with Charles if he is going to speak of you like he did in that video. If he is going to treat you like he has been, nothing is going to be fixed."

"He's your brother—"

"And you are l'amour de ma vie. I do not care that he is my brother; I will not tolerate anyone speaking of you in such a way. I cannot remove you from the situation. I cannot make up with him until he stops treating you horrible.”

You had not realized Arthur’s view on the whole situation. You supposed it made sense now that you thought about it.

Charles was generally being mean to you, not his brother. When the two youngest Leclercs argued, it was over you. Charles seemed convinced that you would never prioritize Arthur or his career over yourself or your own.

True, you would never give up your seat for Arthur, but you wouldn’t do that for anyone. Should the time ever come where Arthur got an F1 seat, you would never give him anything; he would have to work just as hard as anyone else to race against you. That was racing.

You do not think that Charles meant anything to that extreme of a degree. He perhaps meant that Arthur would seldom be prioritized in place of a career in F1, period, but you and Arthur were on the same page about that.

You had spoken in length about it. You had laid everything on the table a few months into your relationship and spoke about it all until you reached a true and total understanding.

And Charles… Well, Charles would always see Arthur as his baby brother, as someone to protect, as someone who is young and unknowing of the world even if he was snugly into his twenties.

“You need to speak to him. Really speak to him. Talk everything through.”

“He needs to apologize, first. Then, and only then, will I talk things out.”

“You are. So. Stubborn,” you growled at him, jokingly pretending to choke him in your frustration.

“If I was not, how would I keep you in check?”

He slid his hand right up under your oversized sleep shirt to hold your core in his palm. Your freshly washed face went a little pink.

“I don’t need to be kept in check,” you said indignantly.

“Don’t you? You always seem to find some way to misbehave and then I have to punish you for it. You know how I hate to punish you.”

“Don't lie. You love my punishments as much as I do.”

He rubbed his hand over the cloth of your panties, pushed his fingers between your closed thighs to prod over the fabric at where you had already started to ache for him. It took so little to get you worked up, just a few touches and some dirty words and you were ready to melt into any mold Arthur wanted.

“Backtalk.” He clicked his tongue at you. “Already misbehaving.”

“I’m debating my point. That is not misbehaving. You’re just being mean.”

“Keep talking and I can show you how mean I can be.”

“That’s not fair—“

You didn’t get to finish your thought before Arthur stood and pushed you against the bathroom counter. Your thighs dug into the edge of the counter as Arthur pressed against your back, hips nestled into the soft curve of your ass.

“Arthur—"

"Hm?"

He slowly slid your hair out of the way. The collar of your ancient sleep shirt was easily stretched to the side so Arthur could kiss the bare skin of his shoulder. His teeth bit into the curve of your neck just enough to feel but not hurt.

You whined, pushed your hips back into him. "Don't tease."

He slid a hand up to your neck, met your eye in the mirror. "Be patient."

He held you there until you nodded your understanding. Only then did he hitch the back of your shirt up to slip his hand inside your panties from behind.

He grabbed a handful of your ass. You exhaled a soft moan.

You hadn't been intimate since the Monday before the Azerbaijan GP, meaning it was pushing two weeks since Arthur had touched you. You were ready to fall apart and he hadn't even really touched you yet.

"Arthur, s'il te plaît."

In the mirror, you could see him smirk at your French. He had told you before that he liked when you spoke to him in French, that he thought your accent was cute.

You knew it was a totally indulgent way to get what you wanted but you didn't care; it worked. His fingers slid between your folds, feeling how slick and ready you were for him.

He cursed into your shoulder, slipping into French to say, "So wet for me—fuck, Y/N."

"Want you, baby. Please."

"Want me? Want me where?"

"Inside me."

"So lewd, mon coeur," he teased. "You're so needy tonight."

"You started it."

"And I will stop it if you are not grateful for what I am giving you."

He pulled his hand out of your underwear and you whined. You reached back to slide a hand into his hair.

"No, please, I'm sorry. Please, don't stop."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. "I will take care of you. You do not need to beg."

He pulled your panties down until you could kick them off to the side. He gently ran a hand over your stomach and ribs. Arthur was always conscientious of you, especially when you were injured.

"Can you bend over for me?"

You did so immediately, elbows coming to rest on the sink counter. Your shirt slid up off your hips to hang loosely around your waist. You felt your arousal hit the air in the bathroom, the chill making you shift your hips.

"So good for me. My good girl."

You could cry from the praise and the fact that his fingers still were not inside of you that exact second. You were embarrassingly worked up.

Arthur seemed to take pity on you, circling his thumb on your clit a few times before slipping a finger into you. Just one was nowhere near enough to fill you up but you dropped your head onto your arms and moaned.

He kissed your backside, knelt down behind you. "So noisy, amour."

Any snarky response you may have had died in your throat when he pressed a second finger into you. That was enough for a bit of a stretch that had you pushing your hips back against his hand.

"Stay still," Arthur warned.

You really did try to listen to him but after slowly scissoring you open with two fingers, he introduced a third and started really finger fucking you. You pressed your forehead against the counter, not able to stop yourself from pushing back into him again, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, searching for something that would stretch you further, reach deeper into you.

He pulled his fingers out of you. Your whine was cut short when he slapped your bared cunt with the same soaked fingers that were just inside of you.

"You are so fucking impatient."

"Just want you."

"Yeah? You want me so bad you cannot even stay still and let me stretch you out? You want to be torn open by my cock?"

You whimpered. That was exactly what you wanted.

He slapped your pussy again. "Huh? Is that what you want?"

You raised your head just enough to be able to watch as Arthur pushed his shorts down. You couldn't see as he pulled his cock free with him stood behind you but you definitely felt it when he pressed his tip against your prepped entrance.

"Oh, fuck—"

He entered you in a swift motion. You choked around a moan.

He was gentle with his arms as he pulled you back against him but ruthless with his hips as he fucked into you without relent. He didn’t press on your bruised torso but he did get a hand around your throat to make you watch yourself in the mirror.

Your dynamic was like this. He was in charge and you loved that. He could hit you, fuck you hard, have you screaming, begging, crying, but where it truly mattered, he would always be gentle with you. His dominance was not just for him; he was always cognizant of your current state and how you were feeling in the moment.

“Arthur.” You breathed his name like a moan, like a prayer.

He kissed your neck, then your cheek. “So good for me.”

Arthur set the pace slow and deep. You could feel him nudging your cervix, stretching you open, the tug of your walls against his cock making you ache for him even more. You were a moaning mess for him in mere moments.

He coaxed you through your first orgasm like that, fucking you slowly from behind as you watched yourselves in the bathroom mirror, his hand between your thighs to push you along. Your legs shook and Arthur held you upright as he kept the torturous pace all the way through your climax.

“You have a bit more in you, amour. Yes?” he asked, still moving his hips as the continued stimulation was making you squirm.

You felt you could barely catch your breath but you nodded anyway. “Yes.”

Arthur hummed, pleased. “Good girl. Bend over.”

If your first orgasm was for you, the second was surely for Arthur. Sex was always a game of give and take with him. Though, even when he was taking, you were always being given so much.

As soon as he had you bent over again, he gripped your hips, adjusted his own, then started fucking into you fast and hard. You grabbed onto the counter to steady yourself, let your head drop onto the quartz as you went pliant and easy.

You were shaking from the overstimulation, from not getting a break between your first high and the second that Arthur was making you chase.

“Come on, amour. Come on.”

His pace was just uneven enough for you to become aware that he was definitely close. He was waiting for you.

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing out another wave of pleasure that had you trembling against the counter. Your head felt light, legs literally giving out and you would have fallen to your knees if Arthur wasn’t still gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, strong arming you into staying on your feet.

You cried his name and your body went slack. Arthur fucked you through your second high and past it, stroked himself out with your body and buried himself deep inside of you as he came.

You mewled at the feeling, at the depth and the spurting warmth. Arthur smoothed a hand up your spine to soothe you. He whispered praises and pressed kisses into your skin until you came back to Earth, getting your legs back underneath you.

"Welcome back, mon coeur."

You could hear the proud grin in his words but could only give a weak groan in response as you pushed yourself upright. Arthur helped you up, then sat you on the bathroom counter and kissed you sweetly before setting to cleaning you up.

He scooped you up into his arms once you were clean and dressed to carry you out to the living room.

"I can still walk," you told him but still happily wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, leaning against his chest.

"I'll have to do better next time, then."

Arthur set you on the couch. He told you to stay as he bustled around getting popcorn and drinks ready.

"What do you want to watch?" you asked.

"Whatever you want."

"Don't give me that kind of power," you mumbled to yourself.

You didn't giving in to the temptation to queue up some cringeworthy romcom you know Arthur would hate. He had given you enough tonight. You could be nice about the movie choice.

You made it through maybe half of the movie (some new Netflix film you thought looked decent) when there was a knock at the door. It was a soft noise, almost hesitant.

You shared a look with your boyfriend before you both checked your phones to make sure you hadn't missed a text from someone letting you know they were on their way over. You both came up blank.

Despite it being your apartment, Arthur pushed you down when you went to stand and ran to answer the door himself. You couldn't quite see the door from the couch, so you strained your ears to listen.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked, not quite unkindly but certainly not happy.

"I went to maman's. You were not there."

Charles. Why had he showed up at your door unannounced this late in the evening?

"I've been staying with Y/N most of the time."

Silence followed. It was painful just eavesdropping on the two brothers. You nearly got to your feet to approach them and attempt to mediate but Arthur beat you to it.

"What do you want, Charles?"

More silence. You don't think you were breathing, scared if you made yourself known it would ruin whatever was about to happen.

"I wanted to apologize," Charles eventually said.

"Apologize?"

You bit your cheek to stop from screeching with joy. Finally—finally! You were so ready for this whole thing to be over with. Even if it took some subtle guilt tripping on your part, you were more than pleased at the outcome.

"For how I've been treating you since you told me about you and Y/N. Is she here?"

"Yes."

"Yes, well, it is her apartment, no?" Charles tried for a weak laugh but Arthur did not take mercy and join him. "Er, well... I—I shouldn't have been so quick to judge you two. I was upset, at first, that you had hidden it from me.

"I forget that you are an adult and you have pursued your own career and you do not need protecting from people who might try to take advantage of you—not that I believe Y/N would do such a thing!"

You cringed. This could go downhill really fast considering Arthur's protective streak over you.

"Yes, I am an adult. How you feel will not dictate my relationship. But how you treat Y/N will dictate my relationship with you. How can you speak of her like you have? She has been your friend for so long."

"I know what it has been like for you to constantly be compared to me. I know it has been difficult for you and I have become paranoid in my fame that someone will use the people I care about to get to me."

"That is ridiculous. Y/N is just as well-known as you, if not more. And she knew you before she knew me—how does any of this make sense, Charles?"

Arthur had a point but you could understand where Charles was coming from. It was always a fear in your own mind that something may happen to or someone might try to take advantage of your family or your friends because they were in connection with you.

"It doesn't," Charles admitted. "It doesn't make any sense. I was being stupid. I assumed the worst—thought Y/N was using you to mess with my head—and refused to see it any other way and I never should have treated Y/N as I have been or said what I have about her.

"She is one of the most talented drivers I have ever driven alongside. She is the kindest person I know. She has been my friend for years longer than she has been dating you. I should not have let my judgement be so clouded by my own fear.

"I am sorry, Arthur. And if Y/N is here, I would like to apologize to her, as well."

It was quiet for several moments. You waited in silence, still holding your breath. Had you breathed at all since Charles started apologizing? Was Arthur going to say anything? Was he just standing there?

There was the rustle of fabric followed by the telltale sighs of relief that accompanied a much needed hug. You exhaled and slumped back against the couch. Thank God.

It was long overdue that the youngest Leclercs made up. Thankfully, Charles knew his brother well enough to know that you must also be apologized to if things were ever going to get better.

"Y/N?" Arthur called.

You suddenly remembered that you had been eavesdropping the whole time. Charles had no idea you were just around the corner in your living room. You had heard the entirety of Charles' apology, even the things not meant for your ears.

You cleared your throat. "Yes?"

"Do you think Charles should be forgiven?"

You laughed and went to join the brothers in the foyer. "I absolutely do. Do I get a hug, too?"

Charles' face was red but he seemed to find the humor in the situation, too. He opened his arms for you and wrapped you in a tight embrace.

"I am sorry, Y/N. I know you would never purposefully try to hurt me or my brother. I was rash in my understanding of the situation."

"It's okay, Charlie. I just missed my friend."

"I'm sorry." Charles squeezed you tight once more before letting you go.

When you stepped back into Arthur, he let his arm slip around your waist. He kissed the side of your head. You leaned into him, too pleased with the outcome of tonight to fret much over PDA in front of Charles.

For the first time, Charles didn't seem deeply disturbed by your affection. However, he did sigh faux irritably.

"You two are way too cute together. It was so difficult to be mad at you sometimes."

You and Arthur laughed.

"I am serious! You should see yourselves."

Despite knowing it was an inappropriate train of thought to entertain in front of your boyfriend's brother, you couldn't help but think back to just about an hour ago and how you had watched yourselves through the bathroom mirror.

"Oh, we have," Arthur said, innuendo lost on his brother but not on you.

You smacked him in the chest. Arthur just laughed. Luckily, Charles seemed none the wiser.

I dunno what it is about reading about the grid hooking up with each other but boy am I HERE for it. It just makes my inner whore very feral and happy lol

Any chance I can request a Charlos x reader with 🔵 and 🔴 :)

“Dry spell? That's such bullshit!”

“It is not! I haven't had sex in months thanks to those two always hanging around me looking at any guy who approaches like they're going to murder him”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at Carlos and Charles, who were over by the bar, arguing over what kind of drink to order for you.

“interesting...”

Warnings: driver!reader, smut (obviously), threesome (obviously), sexual tension?, Daniel being a conniving little shit, tiny bit of angst? Tiny bit of fluff? Anyway Charles Top supremacy

Requested from my prompt list

Charles was your childhood friend and Carlos was your teammate. They were protective of you, that was normal. So were all the other drivers. But unfortunately it was becoming detrimental to your sex life.

“They love you. We all do, you're like an annoying little sister to us, and we would do anything to keep you out of harm's way” Daniel reasoned and you snorted into your drink.

“Right, that doesn't stop any of you from crashing into me every now and then”

He chuckled, noting the two other drivers, still bickering like children in front of a seemingly exasperated bartender.

“Oh please! You know if we caused any damage Charles and Carlos would actually murder us” he scoffed.

“Nah, they're soft at heart”

Daniel hummed as he took a swig of his own drink.

“If you're so concerned about your dry spell, why don't you ask one of them to help you out?” he grinned, biting his lip at the face you were making at him. “Oh come on, we both know neither of them would say no to you”

“I am not having sex with either of them, thank you very much!”

“Who's having sex with who?” George appeared beside you in the booth and you groaned.

“See what you've started! Daniel here thinks I should ask Charles or Carlos to have sex with me.”

George raised an eyebrow at the Australian, then frowned at you. “and the problem with that is...?”

“I am not going to ask them for fuck's sake, they're my closest friends! And besides, I don't mix business and pleasure!”

George scoffed playfully at that and you blushed “You shut your goddamn mouth George William Russell!”

He raised his hands in defense while Daniel laughed. “Didn't say a word!”

You knew Carlos and Charles would probably jump at the chance to have you. But you were happy with the relationship you had with them and you wanted to avoid ruining that by creating any jealousy between them.

“Okay, but if you had to choose one of them to sleep with, who would it be?” George asked, inconspicuously sipping his drink through a straw.

“Uhh...” you hesitated, you had to admit both options were appealing. “I think Carlos? Or... no. Yeah actually definitely Carlos, I can't fuck Charles, I've known him since we were like 5 years old, it would be way too weird”

George hummed and Daniel smirked.

“Okay then, let's make a bet. We'll distract your bodyguards so you can go off and have fun. But if you don't end your dry spell tonight, you have to ask Carlos to end it at a later date” he looked entirely too proud of himself with that idea, and when you looked at George he could barley contain the satisfied smirk adorning his own features.

“A bet?” you looked between them incredulously “What are we in highschool?”

Daniel saw Charles and Carlos finally making their way back through the crowd.

“It’s up to you, but now's your chance to slip away and go get some without them looming over you.”

Fuck it, he was right.

You finished what was left in your glass and slipped out of the booth discreetly, in the opposite direction to where the two were coming from.

Daniel's stupid challenge lurked in the back of your mind. It didn't matter if you didn’t get laid tonight, you were NOT going to ask Carlos...

“Where did she go?” Carlos asked when they got back to the table.

“We got her a drink.” Charles whined, eyes scanning the crowd.  “Tequila sunrise, her favourite”

“No.” Carlos growled “her favourite is a Long Island” he sighed and looked at the other two drivers. “This is why we need to find her, to ask her who is right and who knows her better”

George and Daniel exchanged a pointed look, and the latter cleared his throat. “She's gone to have some fun without you two bickering over her”

They scowled at that.

“But she’s not safe on her own-” “We don't bicker over her-”

“She is an adult” George held a finger up, cutting them off “She is capable of making her own decisions and it's not her fault neither of you have the balls to do anything about your obvious feelings for her”

Charles huffed and sat down, and Carlos just put the drinks on the table and stalked off to try and find you in the dense crowd.

You did end up finding a guy.

He seemed nice, was a pretty good dancer, and was staying in a hotel nearby. Unfortunately he wasn't your type at all. Short, pale, blonde and lean.

But he was drunk and gagging for it.

So you went with him anyway, but as soon as you got back to his hotel you realised he was a bit too drunk, and he passed out on the bed as soon as his head hit the pillow.

You snapped a quick picture of the guy and sent it to Daniel with the caption ‘so much for breaking the dry spell 🙄”

...

A few weeks later, you got a podium at your home race.

In a fucking Williams.

Carlos lifted you on his shoulders as the team chanted your name and sprayed you with champagne.

The moment could have lasted forever for all you cared, this was your moment.

You basked in the glory, time speeding up until all you could remember was the taste of champagne and the blurry sea of blue uniforms engulfing you.

Later on, you found yourself once again in a packed club, full of drivers and mechanics winding down after an intense double header.

But this time, you were the guest of honour. Despite Charles being the one to actually win the race, everyone was buying you drinks and congratulating you on your amazing drive.

You were very drunk, and decided to sit down for a bit, which is how you found yourself, once again, sitting in a booth with Daniel Ricciardo, and of course he remembered the text you'd sent him several weeks ago.

“So... still haven't asked Carlos then I'm guessing?” he flashed his signature grin and you groaned, already sick of this conversation.

“You know I haven't, and I'm not planning to. I value our friendship too much”

You were lying to yourself, and Daniel knew it, but before he could say anything else the man himself appeared next to you.

Carlos leaned over the table, grabbed your drink, downed it, and held out his hand to you.

“Come dance with me!”

You didn't really have a say in the matter as he dragged you away and on to the dance floor.

It was packed with people and your bodies were pressed together as the bass of the music made your heart beat faster.

The heat and the alcohol were getting to you, making you quite giddy so you instinctively wrapped your arms around Carlos' neck and grinned at him.

It had been a while since the two of you had danced together in the club, and it made your heart flutter as you remembered what Daniel had said.

Your cheeks heated up, invisible in the club lights, and leaned in closer to whisper/shout in his ear.

“I have something to ask you”

He raised an eyebrow at you in question, eyes twinkling with the flashing club lights.

“What is it hermosa?” his hands tightened slightly where they were positioned on your hips.

“It's really embarrassing” you giggled and he smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Anything you need, I'm here for you”

Your heart swelled at that. You knew Carlos, you knew he would do anything for you.

But before you could say anything another body appeared next to you, a smooth voice cutting through the noise around you.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Charles!” you slurred excitedly.

You let go of Carlos in favour of jumping into Charles’ arms, you hadn't had a chance to see him all evening.

“Congratulations on the win!” you hugged him tight and he chuckled.

“Congratulations to you! A home podium in a Williams, quite an achievement” he smiled and you blushed at the compliment.

“Bravo Charles!” Carlos clapped the Monegasque on the back, and he had a slight edge to his tone that you couldn't quite place.

“Thanks mate!” he said, flashing his beautiful smile at the older man.

Neither of them knew quite what to add to that riveting interaction, so you all just kind of swayed to the music awkwardly until Carlos spoke up in a rather clipped tone.

“So what was it you wanted to ask me about?” he was speaking to you, but the way he said it sounded like he was talking to Charles, as if he wanted the younger man to take some sort of hint.

Charles didn't though, and your eyes widened as they flitted between the two of them.

“I... uhmm” you stammered, trying to find a way to not tell Charles about what it was you needed.

Weirdly though, it wasn't you who said it.

It was Charles.

“It's okay, I know when I'm not wanted.” Charles waved dismissively. “If you want to fuck Carlos that's none of my business...”

He sounded almost sad as he turned around and made his way back through the crowd in the direction of the bar, your breath caught in your throat as you thought of calling him back over.

Your heart was beating out of your chest. How the fuck did Charles know? Were you really that obvious or did somebody tell h-...

Daniel. That fucker.

Carlos laughed, obviously thinking Charles was joking to diffuse the tension, but quickly stopped when he saw the look on your face.

You were so red even the club lights couldn't mask it, and you were avoiding his eyes.

“What- Is that what you wanted to ask me?” he asked.

You nodded shyly and his jaw dropped.

He got closer to you, crowding your space and hooked finger under your chin to force you to meet his gaze, faces only a few centimeters apart.

“Is this why you've been so tense lately? Have you been needing someone to come and fuck you properly, hmm?”

You whimpered in his hold and he grinned wolfishly before leaning in to kiss you.

The feeling of his lips was heaven.

That's the only way you could have described it.

He was so gentle yet demanding as he used the leverage he had on your jaw to open your mouth to him and he just took whatever he wanted.

Your body went numb and you clung to him, his hands moving down to cup your ass in an effort to get you even closer.

As the beat of the music got heavier, so did your movements, your hips rolling with his to the beat until anyone watching would have qualified it as indecent.

You panted into each others mouths desperately as your clawed at each other's clothes, the tension was becoming unbearable and you needed him more than you'd ever needed anything in your life.

But in the back of your mind you couldn't help thinking there was something you were forgetting.

That was confirmed when Carlos rested his forehead against yours and opened his fucking mouth.

“I'll be honest, I was not expecting this tonight.” He chuckled breathlessly “Daniel told me you were fucking Charles so I assumed I was off limits”

You froze, staring at him, and he quickly realised he might have said something he shouldn't.

“Daniel what?”

He stuttered out something unintelligible but you didn't even hear him as you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd looking for Charles.

As expected, you found him next to the bar, downing shots with Lando who looked rather concerned about the older man’s state.

Just as he handed Charles a glass of water he spotted you and Carlos coming and eyed you suspiciously.

“Charles!” you started, almost stumbling and falling on him in your haste “Did Daniel tell you I wanted to fuck Carlos?!”

Lando’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, a look of complete bewilderment on his face.

“I'm uh- I'm just gonna...” he pointed somewhere behind him and scarpered, probably for the better.

“What?” Charles said, obviously quite drunk.

“What did Daniel tell you about me and Carlos?”

He frowned angrily.

“He said you were going to fuck Carlos”

You exchanged a look with Carlos.

“And I guess what I saw on the dancefloor confirmed it” he said bitterly.

Everything about his demeanor screamed one thing.

“Are you jealous?” you and Carlos asked at the same time.

Charles looked taken aback at the question.

“Yes? Who wouldn't be? Look at you...”

“I don't understand” your head was spinning “why would Daniel tell Carlos I was fucking you, then?”

Charles frowned in confusion and eyed the booth where you'd been originally sitting with Daniel.

He was now chatting away happily with Max and Lando while you were having a crisis.

You bit your lip in thought.

“We could... prove him right” you said slowly.

The two looked at you weirdly for a second before realising what you meant.

“Come with me”

They didn't protest as you pulled them towards the dancefloor, in an area that was close enough to the booth that Daniel would be able to see you if he looked over.

Once you were in place with Carlos behind you and Charles in front, it was easy to get them to move with you to the beat of whatever was playing.

When your ass accidentally made contact with Carlos' crotch he hissed and his hands flew to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

Your head fell onto his shoulder as you moved together, and you looked at Charles through lidded eyes.

The man had a dark look in his eyes as he watched the interaction, and you motioned him over.

“Jealous? Come get me then” you said as seductively as you could given that you had to shout over the music.

It worked on Charles though, and he towered over you, his hands coming to rest around you waist possessively, barely an inch above Carlos' own hands.

“You sure about this?” he asked, his hips hovering close to yours but not yet breaching the barrier of your friendship.

It was then and there that you realised, you never wanted one of them if you couldn't have the other.

You slid your fingers through his belt loops and tugged roughly so that he was finally flush against you.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach. You'd never been this close to Charles despite your many years of friendship and the novelty of the situation was exciting.

As you looked into each other's eyes, your faces got closer and closer.

When his lips brushed yours softly, it was like a fire ignited inside you.

You pulled him in by the back of his neck and he complied with equal fervour, plastering himself against you and whimpering a quiet ‘fuck’ against your lips as he kissed you for the first time.

Carlos’s chest rumbled against your back and you realised he was groaning at the sight, Charles pushing you against him as you made out sloppily.

He quickly glanced over to the booth and the three men were staring at you with wide eyes.

He smirked and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You got what you wanted. Daniel is staring at us like he’s seen a ghost”

You and Charles separated to breathe and you took the opportunity to look at Daniel, but he quickly looked away and pretended he hadn't seen you.

You couldn't have that.

You kissed just under Charles' jaw, making the man shudder as your lips made their way up his neck and over to his ear and you bit it lightly.

Given your closeness, you could feel his body start to tense up and the crotch of his pants was getting tighter.

You didn't know he had an exhibitionist streak but that was certainly information you were going to use to your advantage.

There was just one last thing you needed to do.

You turned around to face Carlos, pulling him down for a scorching kiss.

When you pulled away, you panted into his ear.

“If we're going to do this, I want you to kiss Charles”

He froze and glanced at the Monegasque behind you then looked back at you questioningly. You lifted a brow and bit your lip.

His eyes followed the movement and he gulped.

“Do it, I dare you”

See, being Charles' oldest friend meant that you knew things about him that no one else did.

Such as the fact that he was very much into men and had salivated over Carlos for years.

And oddly, Carlos didn't need much convincing either as he leaned in and pressed his lips to Charles'.

The kiss started out relatively chaste, both being unsure of how the other would react, but soon enough they were making our filthily over your shoulder.

You slipped out from between them, their bodies naturally coming together as their lips, and their hips, moved in tandem.

You slipped away, back to Daniel’s booth and were proud to see him, Max and Lando with their jaws almost on the table at the sight of Charles and Carlos clutching each other and making out desperately out on the dancefloor.

Carlos's hands framed Charles’s face, pulling him into the kiss, and Charles had one hand fisted into the Spaniard's shirt, the other was tangled in his hair.

You leaned over the table, getting the three drivers' attention.

“Tell me Daniel, what were you trying to achieve here tonight?”

He stared at you, eyes flitting back to the crowd every few seconds as he stuttered out an explanation.

“I- I thought that if I told each of them you were fucking the other something would finally happen... Best case scenario you would muster up the balls to ask one of them, worst case scenario one of them would fuck you out of jealousy”

You nodded condescendingly and glanced back at the two figures now practically humping each other in the middle of the crowd, before answering.

“Well let me suggest a new scenario, I'm going to go and fuck them both.”

You straightened up and brushed yourself off before continuing.

“Have a pleasant evening Daniel. Lando. Max.” You nodded at each of them before swiftly turning on your heel and joining Charles and Carlos again to drag them outside in hopes of catching a cab.

In said cab, the windows were steaming up.

Carlos was knuckle deep in you while you took turns making out with them, and it didn't take long for you to start unraveling at the seams.

But just before you did, Charles took a hold of Carlos' wrist and pulled his hand away, taking his wet fingers into his mouth for a taste of you.

He groaned around Carlos' fingers at your sweet taste and the older man felt like he was on fire at the sight of his ex teammate eagerly sucking on his fingers.

You were writhing between them after being denied your orgasm, and you pawed at Carlos' shirt in an effort to get him to put his fingers back in you..

He chuckled at the sight of you so desperate then turned back to Charles.

“I didn't get to have a taste” he pouted mockingly, and Charles mirrored his mischievous smile as he brought his fingers to your weeping folds and pushed three in, the coldness of his rings sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

And once again, as soon as you started getting close, he took his fingers out and shoved them into Carlos's mouth.

“How's that?” he teased and the older man went nuts at getting to taste you, on Charles' fingers.

Once they were clean he wrapped a hand around Carlos' throat and pulled him in for a filthy, noisy kiss.

God, you were going to have to give the taxi driver a very generous tip.

When the three you finally got to the hotel, you couldn't keep your hands off each other all the way up to your room.

And once inside, you were thrown onto the bed and stripped of your clothes very quickly.

“So greedy...” Charles purred “You couldn't choose just one of us. You needed both...” he unbuckled his pants, shirt already long gone, and his cock slapped against his lower abdomen, hard and leaking. “Well now you're going to have both of us, and we're going to fuck you as many times as we want, right Carlos?”

Carlos nodded eagerly from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, lazily stroking himself as he watched you and Charles.

When Charles' kisses started going south, you beckoned Carlos over and took him in your hand, making him hiss, and guided his cock towards your mouth.

He threaded his hands through your hair as you let your tongue run over his sensitive skin. He tried and failed to keep his hips still, so you took him into your mouth as far as you could go and he choked on a groan as his hands tightened in your hair.

“Fuck- my god your mouth...”

You hummed at the praise and Carlos tensed and threw his head back in an effort to keep himself composed.

Meanwhile Charles had sucked a few marks into your skin and was slowly making his way up the inside of your thigh, making you shiver with anticipation.

He licked a bold stripe up your cunt and one of your hands immediately went to grip his hair between your fingers and pull him closer.

He complied eagerly, slurping up your juices as his tongue alternated between going as deep as it could inside you and circling your sensitive clit relentlessly.

It took an embarrassingly short amount of time for you to get to the edge, and when Charles slid two fingers inside you wailed around Carlos' cock as you came, clamping down on Charles and rutting against his face desperately.

Charles looked entirely too cocky as he climbed onto the bed, face covered in your wetness, and crawled over to Carlos.

The two men crashed their lips together in a passionate exchange, Carlos moaning at your taste as Charles took control and invaded the older man's space, pushing him to lay down under him.

“Your turn” Charles panted, and gave him one last peck before making his way down Carlos' body.

“Wha- What are you-?”

He barely managed to get his sentence out before Charles had sucked his tip into his mouth and started sinking down... much further down than you'd managed given Carlos' impressive girth.

Well you knew he liked sex but by god, Charles Leclerc was a whore.

After a few bobs of his head, and a few braincells lost for Carlos, he pulled off with a pop.

“She's going to sit on your face while I open you up, okay Carlos?”

Carlos jolted slightly and his head whipped up to look at the man smirking between his legs, his wide eyes filled with confusion.

“You are what?”

Charles giggled “I'm going to fuck you Carlos.”

Carlos just opened and closed his mouth repeatedly like a fish out of water.

“What?” Charles said condescendingly “Did you think you were going to fuck me?”

“I- I don't know” Carlos admitted.

He wasn't entirely unhappy with that arrangement, but he had to admit, all the times where the sexual tension between them had been at it's peak during their years as teammates, he usually imagined it the other way around.

But he was about to get fucked by Charles Leclerc, and the thought almost overwhelmed him.

“Is that okay with you?”

Carlos head flopped back down onto the bed and he groaned.

“fuck”

You and Charles laughed.

“I'll take that as a yes” Charles gently prised his legs apart and kissed along his inner thighs.

You kneeled next to Carlos' head and smiled at him.

“May I?” you questioned, hand coming to stroke the man's cheek tenderly.

Carlos's eyes were glassy and he nodded quickly, but you tutted and leaned down to press a kiss to his chest.

“Words, Carlos”

“Yes! I want you to sit on my face, please hermosa. I need to taste you” he made grabby hands at your hips.

You smirked at his eagerness and swung a leg over his head, so that you were facing Charles, who was waiting for you to get settled before he let his tongue wander over Carlos' taint teasingly.

Once Carlos had grasped your hips and all but slammed you down on his face, Charles licked over his rim and the older man groaned against your cunt, making you buck your hips against his face involuntarily.

Very soon, Charles was several fingers in, and Carlos’ cock was leaking precum onto his own toned stomach.

Charles made a noise of satisfaction and retracted his fingers, deeming the other man ready for him, and helped your trembling body off, to change position.

You decided to get on all fours, Carlos behind you had no trouble sliding into you and your arms buckled at the stretch, so you were left with your ass up and a face full of pillows as he leaned over you, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulders while he prepared himself mentally for Charles to breach him.

And when he did, Carlos let out the most pornographic moan you had ever heard, and that served as encouragement to Charles, who pushed in slowly, inch by inch until you all felt like you were going to burst.

You all just breathed for a second, limbs trembling at the sensation of being joined like this, so intimately, with your closest friends.

Maybe this was the end of that friendship, and the beginning of something else, something more.

“Everyone alright?” Charles asked after a minute, and you and Carlos moaned your assent, making the Monegasque giggle.

He pulled out a fraction, then gave an experimental thrust.

Apparently, Carlos was a very noisy bottom, because every time Charles bottomed out inside him his moans increased in pitch.

Well so did yours, but this wasn't about you.

“I'm not going to last long” Carlos groaned, face contorted in pleasure at the new sensation overtaking his body.

You let out a muffled sound into the pillows that sounded like “me neither” and Charles chuckled.

He threaded his fingers through Carlos' hair and pulled, making him arch his back, and pounded into him, the angle perfect to nail his prostate dead on.

The force of his thrusts was enough to make sure Carlos' cock reached the deepest parts of you, knocking against all your good spots.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t take either of you long to come at all, and you did so together. Carlos filling you up while your walls tightened and milked him for all he was worth.

When Charles pulled out of him, Carlos collapsed next to you, and the sight of you with your back arched, and Carlos' cum dribbling out of you was enough to drive Charles over the edge, fisting his cock and streaking your ass and the backs of your thighs in his own cum.

He swiped a finger through the messy mix of juices and brought it to his lips, savouring it while winking at Carlos.

The older man was staring at him with an open mouth, so Charles took that as an invitation to collect some more on his fingers and shove them between Carlos's lips, mirroring his actions from the taxi earlier.

“Jesus Christ”

You'd turned your head to see what on earth was happening, you saw Carlos' eyes roll back into his skull as Charles pressed down on his tongue to make him gag slightly.

You'd always imagined Carlos to be pretty dominant, but Charles was turning him into a lap dog before your very eyes.

“Now then” Charles snapped “are you going to clean her up while I fuck you again?”

Carlos whined and nodded, shimmying down the bed until he was level with your dripping thighs, licking a stripe up the back of one.

“Good boy” Charles purred, positioning himself back over the other man, lining himself up and leaning in close to whisper into his ear.

“And this time, I’m going to fill you  up, Carlos”

Needless to say, it was a long ass night, and the fun was only just beginning.

FAVS 33 - MAX VERSTAPPEN 3.0

Some of my favorite stories, writers you are amazing

all i wanted 1 2 3 4 5 cat mom love like the movies broken THE Birkin Hey Stranger! potion At least for the pictures potterhead part 1

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!!