“love might be blind, but the spotlight never is.”
Pairing: lando x she!
Word Count: 6k.
Summary: can a formula 1 superstar slow down enough to find love... without ever seeing it?
Warning: fluff and a little reader self worth issues.
AN: this idea came to me and was inspired by the amazing @piastriprincess !! this will be part one of maybe four? as usual i wrote with vibes and not spell check <3 i hope you all enjoy it!
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really.
Her friends had signed her up as a joke, filling out the endless application questions between rounds of cheap prosecco and takeout pizza. Describe your dream partner. Describe your most painful heartbreak. Describe why you think love is blind. She had rolled her eyes, laughed it off, muttered something about how she was obviously unlovable anyway. and then she’d gone home and forgotten about it.
Until the email came. Until the phone call. Until she was packing a bag and promising her mother she hadn’t completely lost her mind. They had dared her to go, to take a chance and in this moment? She hated them for it.
Now she was here, standing in a studio that looked like it had been dipped in glitter, surrounded by women who all looked like they belonged on magazine covers. Tall, glossy-haired, with manicured nails and smiles that said they knew exactly how to work a camera.
And her? She was the one who had to borrow a dress from her best friend because she didn’t own anything “cocktail appropriate.” the one who sat cross-legged on the couch while the others perched gracefully, already chatting like they were auditioning for the bachelorette.
When producers called them to line up for the first pod sessions, her stomach sank. her hands felt clammy. She wasn’t nervous about falling in love — she was nervous about proving herself right. Proving that no one could possibly want her.
Lando hadn’t expected to be here either, though his reasons were different.
When the offer first landed, he’d laughed. A dating show? With cameras? It sounded like his worst nightmare. He already had enough strangers dissecting his every move. In the spotlight was certainly not how he wanted to spend his winter break.
But then came the pitch. The pods. The wall. Anonymity.
No one would know who he was. No one would see his face or recognise his voice from press conferences or youtube videos. In here, he wasn’t Lando Norris, formula one driver. He was just… Lando.
That had been the selling point. That was what he had spoken about as they had sat him down in that chair, a position he was used to being in but the questions this time had felt harder, more vulnerable and raw. He’d just have to keep reminding himself of why he was here, what he wanted out of all of this in the end.
Still, as he walked toward the pods for the first time, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. The first few dates had been shallow, filled with giggles and fake voices. Girls fishing for soundbites, or worse, bragging about their followers. The very type of girls that already slid into his DM’s and seemed more worried about how famous they would be coming out of this than concerned over love. If only they knew what they were really signing up for. He leaned back in his chair, voice dripping with sarcasm as he joked through his third conversation. This was all so pointless. No one here wanted real love. They wanted air time.
Until the door slid open again. Until her voice slipped through the wall.
“Hello?” The water glass was still trembling in her hands when she finally worked up the courage to say hi, her legs tucked underneath her, shoes off like she needed to be grounded and her eels were already too much.
“Hey.” Just that , low, warm, simple , and it sent her heart into her throat. Was it normal to have such a reaction to one word from a man?
“Hi! Shit, no sorry I already said that already, wait no, I can’t say shit they told me not to swear oh god, that was so aggressive of me, sorry, I’ll um stop now.” Could she be any more embarrassing if she tried?
Lando couldn’t help himself, he laughed, and the sound was easy, unforced. He wasn’t laughing at her, but she was by far the most genuine person that he had come across so far and for the first time since he had switched pods this morning, he felt himself breathe. “ Aggressive ‘hi,’ huh? A little rambling? I'll allow it. Sets the tone.”
Her cheeks warmed and she was grateful that he couldn’t see her, this was where men normally gave up on her. “The tone being… chaos?”
“Chaos is underrated. ” He shot back. “Besides, you don’t sound chaotic. You sound nervous.”
She squeezed the glass tighter in her hand like it could keep her from saying something else that was stupid. “I am nervous. This is… absurd. I don't know how to do this.”
“Me neither. ” Lando rushed to admit. “So let's not do it the right way. Let's just… do it our way.”
Something in her chest loosened. A smile forming on her face that might have looked genuine if she could see it.
Lando leaned back on the couch, grinning to himself. Most of the conversations so far had been rehearsed. Shiny answers, neat little stories people clearly thought would make them sound interesting. But this girl? She wasn’t trying. She was just there. Nervous, messy, real. She was already his favorite by a mile.
She fiddled with the hem of her dress. “So… how’s your day going?”
The silence stretched for a beat, and her heart sank , god, she was already boring him.
Then he laughed. Not mocking, just easy and she noted that it might be one of her new favorite sounds. “That's your opener? Out of everything you could’ve said?”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I told you I’’m not very good at this.”
“At what?”
“Dating. Being interesting. Take your pick.”
“Well, lucky for you, I'm not really here for polished openers.”
Her brows furrowed, though he couldn’t see it. “No?” Wasn’t that the point of being here, to find someone that was perfect for them?
“No. I've got enough of that already. I just… want something real.” The honesty in his tone made her chest tighten again, she was too soft for this, too easily peeled open when she felt like she could trust someone. “ My day though was … long? I feel like I’ve said the same thing over and over again and still not really learnt anything interesting about anyone yet, you?”
“Well the first guy asked if I considered myself pretty which made me feel like sh – rubbish you know? And the second guy was fine but an accountant and I failed math three times so I’m not sure that would work. Then I told myself that I was being unreasonable and how am I ever meant to find love if I’m this picky you know?” She let off a dramatic sigh before she caught herself. “Oh um, you probably realised but I’m a bit of a rambler so I think that might have put some people off too.”
Lando was beaming at her answer, even if he was already judging the other men he was here with. “S’okay, I’m not much of a talker myself, I’m happy to listen. And I’m sorry that the other guys were rough. Do you wanna start with the easier questions to break the ice?
“Yea I’d like that.” She nodded, happy to let him lead on those.
“Okay how old are you?”
“ 27 and you?”
“25… does it bother you that I’m younger?”
“Um, no not if it doesn’t bother you?”
“No, I love an older woman.” Lando smirked to himself, he’d never really been bothered either way and he had seen it work both ways round. “Favorite colour?”
“Oh, yellow, or pink, or green, honestly it depends what time of year that we’re in and what my mood is saying. Yours?”
“Just blue … I should probably say pap - orange too.” Lando corrected, determined to keep who he was from ane that might recognise. “Lucky number?”
“17, I just always thought it was a pretty nice number, you know? I don’t really like even numbers.”
“So I shouldn’t tell you mine’s 4?”
“Oh no! That’s okay! I mean I won’t hold it against you or anything.”
“Good to know.” She was adorable and all he had managed to write down about her so far, was a whole bunch of smiley faces. “Ready for some deeper stuff?” This was where he’d figure out if this was for show or this was her.
“Um sure, just, be nice to me?” Her thumbs had already taken a beat with her nervous fiddling.
“Alright,” he said, “so what’s the most important thing I should know about you?”
There was a long pause, too long. The kind that had Lando's palms sweating.
“Um… I burn every kind of pasta. Even the kind that literally says ‘boil for seven minutes.’ Somehow, I always ruin it.”
He laughed, startled and loud. Not the low laugh she had heard before, this one was far dorkier and brought a snort from her before she could stop it. “That's your big reveal? Pasta crimes?”
“I told you I wasn't cool,” She muttered defensively, but her voice carried a smile.
He wasn't like the others. There was no edge of performance in his voice, no sense that he was checking boxes. She could feel the tension she had been fighting all morning drain from her as she enjoyed this for what it was meant to be.
Just… conversation.
“Your turn,” she challenged. “What's the most important thing I should know about you?”
Silence. Then a thoughtful hum. For one moment he found himself wanting to confess already. To not sign her up to something she had no idea about, but that wouldn’t be the point. If she knew who he was? If she judged him for the rumors? If she was a fan? It would ruin it all if she didn’t want to continue to get to know him just for being himself.
“I'm competitive,” he said finally. “Too competitive. It’s… kind of my whole thing.”
“Like board games competitive, or…?”
“Like everything competitive,” he admitted quietly. “If I'm making toast and someone else is making toast, I want mine to be better.”
She let out a low whistle. She couldn’t imagine being competitive at anything, she was too shy to ever try and stand out like that. “Wow. exhausting.”
He laughed with her, easy, unoffended. “Told you. Chaos.” He wanted to keep her talking. Wanted to hear the way she laughed mid-sentence, the way she slipped confessions in like she didn’t mean to.
So he asked, “When was the last time you cried?” It was a question people always asked him for some reason which is why he found himself asking.
The air shifted and he wished he could take the words back.
“Yesterday,” she said quietly. “Just one of those days where I felt like it didn't matter.”
His chest tightened. Not many people would admit that , not right away, not to a stranger.
But she had.
“You matter,” he said firmly. “Right now, to me. And I don’t even know your name yet.”
Her breath caught.
She’d expected silence. Or awkward laughter. Or worse, the pity. Not that. Not him saying it like it was fact, like she didn’t even need to earn it. She didn’t know what to do with that, so she laughed again. Nervous, breaking the moment. “Wow. You’re really good at this.”
“At what?”
“At… making strangers feel like they aren’t strangers.”
His voice was quiet now. “Maybe that’s because you don’t feel like one.” And for the first time in years, she didn’t feel invisible.
Her voice was different. Not high-pitched, not rehearsed, not dripping with pick me. She sounded nervous, a little clumsy, like she didn’t think she belonged here. And maybe that was exactly why he liked it.
Lando leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees even though she couldn’t see him. “So what's your story? Why’d you sign up?”
“I didn't. My friends did. They think I’m… um. tragic, I guess. Then they double dared me to go through with it.”
Lando frowned, finding he didn’t like that answer at all. “Tragic?”
“Yeah. I've been single forever. They say I self-sabotage. But mostly I think I'm just… not someone people love.”
The words hit harder than he expected. Most girls came in here listing dream weddings, dream husbands, ten-year plans. but she sounded like she didn’t believe in any of it.
He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see. “I don’t buy that.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Yeah, but I know voices. And yours doesn’t sound unlovable.”
The silence that followed was heavier this time. When she spoke again, her voice was smaller. “You’re the first person who’s ever said that.”
His throat tightened. Who the hell put a wall in here? He wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted to tell her that people probably loved her all the time, she just didn’t see it. But the buzzer sounded, ending their session.
“Guess I'll see you tomorrow,” he said quickly.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “Tomorrow.”
She didn’t feel like crying the way she had after the first two. She felt… lighter. Even despite his last question, like someone had cracked a window open in a room she hadn’t realized was suffocating her.
She didn’t even know his name. But for the first time, she thought maybe, just maybe, her friends hadn’t been wrong to send her here.
As Lando wondered into the next pod, he looked back down at his note pad, adding a final large smile to the page. He was still staring at it when the next voice sounded and he had to fight with every urge not to roll his eyes as Emily introduced herself as his future wife. Guess again.
She was starting to learn the rhythm of the house.
Morning coffee with a dozen voices competing for attention, makeup mirrors crowded with curling irons and gossip, whispered alliances already forming between women who seemed like they’d been plucked straight out of an instagram feed. And then there was her. She sat at the edge of the couch, mug warming her hands, pretending to listen while the girls compared notes.
“I think I've got a real connection with one of them.” Georgia noted with perfectly glossed lips said, leaning forward like she was spilling state secrets. “He told me he can already imagine proposing.”
The others squealed. She forced a smile. Her mind wandered back to Lando, the way it had for the past couple of days, she had spoken with him twice more since the first day and each time she left with a dreamier smile on her face. How some girls were stuck picking between the men she didn’t know. Lando. He was the only one that brought a real smile to her face.
She certainly hadn’t felt anything close to a proposal. Except maybe… except maybe him. The man with the warm laugh, the voice that wrapped around her like a blanket. She just had to keep reminding herself that he hadn’t made any grand promises. Just told her that she didn’t sound unlovable.
That one sentence had been on repeat in her head ever since.
Still, she stayed quiet while the other women plotted and compared. She didn’t want to sound naïve, clinging to one single man when they were juggling three, four, five connections. She already felt like the odd one out, why prove it further?
When the producer’s voice announced it was time for pods, relief washed over her. At least there, behind the wall, she didn’t have to compete.
The guys’ lounge was louder than he expected.
Half the men were sprawled across couches, bragging about how many girls they’d “connected” with already. The other half were comparing notes, like they were swapping fantasy football stats. Lando leaned back in his chair, nursing a bottle of water. He didn’t want to be part of it, not really. The whole point of this thing was that it wasn’t supposed to be a game and yet here they were, turning it into one. This wasn’t the type of place he wanted to be competitive. He didn’t really fit in with many of them, some still looked at him in awe, others seemed to feel hard done to over the fact they were competing with him. Even if they had all signed little pieces of paper that meant they couldn’t tell the girls who he was.
When someone asked him who he liked best, he shrugged. “I dunno. Still figuring it out.” That wasn’t true. He was figuring it out , except it wasn’t about who. It was about how quickly this one girl had gotten under his skin. And if after three conversations the feeling in his chest was real or if he was allowing himself to get ahead of his own brain.
Her voice still lingered with him, soft and unsure, but with this edge of honesty he hadn’t heard from anyone else. Most conversations felt like interviews. Hers felt like… something else. Like he could listen to her forever.
When the call came for pods, he stood quicker than he meant to. He told himself it was a coincidence.
She sat down in the pod and exhaled slowly, trying to steady her nerves.
“Hello?” She said softly. She hated that they never told her who was coming into the pods.
The reply came instantly. “Hey you.”
Her lips tugged into a smile. “How do you know it’s me? You’ve got, what, ten dates lined up?”
“Yeah, but none of them sound like you.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. She was grateful for the wall. "That could be a bad thing.”
“It isn’t.” He offered firmly, he was sure of that.
She fiddled with the ring on her finger, heart skipping at the certainty in his tone.
“What do you think we should talk about today?” She asked, trying to keep it light, she wanted the fun with him as well as the serious.
“I feel like we’ve covered a lot, I just like the fun stuff because it makes you laugh.”
“No, no one should like my laugh. I sound like a strangled seal.”
“Have you heard my laugh?” Lando scoffed. “It’s literally a meme at this point.”
“You do sound like a dork but I kind of like that, everyone has to have a flaw.”
“You think my laugh is a flaw?” He scoffed, playful even if he was offended.
“What no I didn’t mean it like that! You’re just so perfect it’s nice that one thing’s…. Normal.”
“You love my laugh.” He puffed out, hand pressed to his chest on the soft hoodie wore.
“Yea… I do.”
“So - ” He went on, voice lighter now, “tell me something real about you. Something you wouldn’t put on an application.”
She hesitated. Real wasn’t something she was good at sharing. It was really messy. But wasn’t that the point? They had learnt a lot about each other of the past two sessions, but this was the stuff they needed, the ugly truths to see if they could love each other through them too.
“…I hate my birthday,” She finally admitted.
A pause. “Why?”
“Because it feels like proof. Another year, nothing’s changed. No one to share it with. Just me, making a wish I know won’t come true. Plus it’s like so close to Christmas I just always feel like an inconvenience. ”
Silence stretched. Her chest ached. Too much. I said too much.
Then his voice came, quiet but certain. “That's not proof you’re unlovable. That's proof you haven’t met the right person yet.”
Her eyes stung. She blinked hard, forcing a laugh. “You’re annoyingly good at saying the right thing.”
He chuckled. “I'm just saying what I mean.”
He hadn’t expected her answer to hit him the way it did.
The other women had talked about birthdays like excuses for luxury trips, champagne, celebrations with hundreds of friends. She talked about it like it was loneliness wrapped in candlelight.
And he hated it. Hated the thought of her sitting there alone, thinking it meant she wasn’t worth loving. He leaned forward, elbows digging into his knees. “You want to know something real about me?”
“Yeah.”
He drew a breath. “People only ever see one thing. One version of me. They don’t care what else there is. Just… the highlight reel. The surface. Whatever they want to see in the rumors. ”
Her voice was soft. "And you hate that?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Because then, when someone says they like me, I can't tell if they mean me or the version they think I am.”
She was quiet for a moment. Then she said “Maybe that’s why we’re here. Because for once, we don’t have to be anyone else. No surface. Just… us.”
He swallowed the lump in his throat at the idea. “Yeah ” he murmured. “Just us.”
He was supposed to keep an open mind. supposed to move through the pods, collect connections like puzzle pieces. But when her voice filled the room, it was already done.
Stretching himself out he settled in to enjoy himself, this was already going to be his favorite session of the day, he wanted to take it all in. “Tell me something you’re proud of.”
Why did he always ask her questions that she didn’t know how to answer. Ones that no one else had been around long enough to check. “I don't think I have anything.”
Another answer that Lando didn’t like. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… I've never been the smartest, or the prettiest, or the most anything. I'm… average. forgettable. There’s nothing to be proud of in that.”
God who had hurt this girl.
“You must think I’m pathetic.” She continued and he could tell that her nerves were taking over again before he’d had a chance to answer her.
“Hey,” he said softly. “First of all, the average is the most beautiful thing in the world when it’s real. Second— you’re proud of more than you think. I can hear it in your voice.”
Another pause. Then, even softer: “Why do you care?”
“Because I know what it feels like when no one does, and someone should, for you someone should.”
The words sat heavy in her chest, like she wanted to believe them but couldn’t quite.
“What about you?” She asked quickly, needing to turn the light back on him. “What are you proud of?”
Lando let out a low exhale at the thought. Normally he would pick some podium, a point, a signing. Not today. “I'm proud I haven't quit.”
She frowned. “Quit what?”
He hesitated.There it was again, that urge to tell her more than he should.
“This… thing I do. It’s… a lot. People expect me to be perfect at it, and sometimes I'm not. Sometimes I hate it. But I haven’t walked away. Not yet.”
Something in his tone told her it was more complicated than that, but he wasn’t ready to explain. “So why don’t you quit?”
His laugh was rough.That was the million dollar question. “Because I’d let people down. A lot of people. Because I made promises. Because ….because I wouldn't know who I am without it.”
Her heart twisted. “I think I'd still know who you are,” she said quietly.
Silence stretched, thick and heavy. There hadn’t been so much silence in any other pod, and yet she hadn’t been this comfortable despite it. Then his voice, low and almost broken: “you don’t even know me yet.”
“Don't I?” She whispered back.
She didn’t know his face, his history, his job, none of it. And yet somehow, she’d already seen through the noise to the one truth he’d never admitted out loud. He wasn’t sure if that terrified him, or if it was the only thing that had felt right in years.
“You’re dangerous,” He muttered, half a joke, half not. Her laugh was soft, self-deprecating. “Trust me, I'm not dangerous. I'm the safest bet in the world. Boring, even.”
“No, I think you’re the scariest woman I’ve ever met.”
“Do you know what today is?” She asked, a smile on her face at the realisation she’d had this morning.
“What?”
“Meeting number four, your lucky number.”
“I think I was lucky on day one.” Lando offered, and the pair of them were smiling at each other through the wall in a way that had the world swooning.
The session ended too soon.
She lingered on the couch, staring at the darkened wall, trying to catch her breath. No one had ever wanted to know her like that before. No one had ever seen her like that before.
It left her both exhilarated and terrified. Because if he saw her… he could also break her
When he left the pod, one of the guys clapped him on the shoulder, asking how it went.
“Fine,” Lando said lightly. But the truth? The truth was he couldn’t stop smiling.
The house was buzzing louder each day. Confessions whispered in corners, giggles spilling down hallways, the electric hum of competition growing thicker.
She felt it pressing in on her like static. The other women moved through the space like they’d been made for it, polished and confident, tossing out names and making predictions like they were on some kind of reality-show leaderboard. Other than Georgia she didn’t really speak to anyone.
That was okay with her though, she knew that it would be like this when she had entered the show and friends, as horrible as it sounded, were not her goal here. She was the luckiest girl in the world when it came to platonic love, so lucky in fact she often used that as a reason for not deserving the romantic kind too. No girl deserved to be so lucky in every aspect of her life.
She didn’t feel like she deserved to have found him. That they would make it past the walls.
As much as she tried to stay quiet. to blend. She couldn’t stop herself from listening.
“He’s so funny.” Laura had said that about 5 guys so far, but now she was talking about Lando. “Such a good laugh. I think he’s into me.”
“You can tell when he’s leaning forward, right? Like, you just know.”
Her stomach turned. They were talking about him. Her man. The one who had told her she wasn’t forgettable, who made her laugh until her ribs hurt, who listened when no one else had.
But of course he was charming to everyone. Of course they all thought they had a chance.
She excused herself to the bathroom, stared at her own reflection. Average. Plain. She'd been right all along - in a house full of dazzling, magnetic women, how could she ever stand out?
In the guys’ lounge, the conversations weren’t much different.
Names tossed like poker chips, a quiet competition humming beneath every sentence.
“She’s mine,” one guy joked, pointing across the room. “Back off.”
Lando smirked, but he didn’t bite. He wasn't interested in swapping war stories.
He had one voice in his head. One laugh, one softness. But when another guy mentioned her name - her name - something hot flickered in his chest.
“She’s great.” Of course she was great Jackson, she was fucking perfect. “We clicked.”
Lando leaned back, forced himself to sip his water, to stay calm. But his pulse betrayed him.
No one else could have her. She was the reason he was still here.
Today, when the door closed behind her, she grinned before she could stop herself, determined not to let the girl's mumblings stop her from enjoying their chat. “So… what terrible speed dates have you survived today?”
He groaned dramatically, and she pictured him throwing his head back. “One girl spent twenty minutes telling me about her skincare routine. I didn't know half of those words were even real.”
She laughed, head falling back too. “And now you’re moisturised by proxy.”
“Basically glowing,” He said with an unusual amount of seriousness. “The prettiest man you ever did see.”
The sound of her laughter filled the pod. It surprised her, how easy it was to let go around him. She hadn’t laughed like that in weeks. Maybe months.
He liked making her laugh. He loved it as much as he loved purple, purple, purple. With other women, he still felt like he had to play a part - clever, charming, impressive. But with her, he could throw out something ridiculous and she’d catch it, spin it back, make him laugh too.
He leaned closer to the wall. “What about you? Any horror stories today?”
She hesitated. “One guy tried to guess what I look like. Said I must be blonde, tall, probably model material. When I told him he couldn’t be any more wrong, he… kind of lost interest.”
Anger flickered hot in his chest. “That’s his loss.”
“Or maybe he just wants a model,” She said lightly, but he heard the dip in her tone.
He shook his head, even though she couldn’t see it. “Nah. If he wants a picture instead of a person, he doesn’t belong here. But you … ” he cut himself off, surprised at how sharp his voice had gone. Softer now, he said “you’re why I’m still here.”
She didn’t know what to do with the way his words curled around her chest, how they lodged there and refused to let go.
She deflected instead. “Alright. Tell me something about your past relationships. Fair warning, I might judge.”
He laughed, but it sounded nervous. “Alright. um… most of mine didn’t last long. Some ended because they said I wasn't… around enough. Or that I wasn't serious.”
“Were they right?” she asked softly.
“Maybe. I don't think I ever felt like they really saw me. like I was just this… accessory. convenient for a while, but not… not real.”
She chewed on his words. He didn’t sound like he was fishing for sympathy. He sounded tired. Honest. “That sounds lonely,” she said finally.
He let out a breath. “Yea, it was, what about you?”
“Oh I um, I haven’t ever been in a relationship.”
“Thats not a bad thing you know, it’s okay if you’ve waited to find something real.”
“I think I’ve just been busy being scared.”
“That’s okay, wanna ask me a question that might make you not so scared?”
“Oh erm…” She could ask the deep stuff, but maybe she needed a moment first. “Tell me an embarrassing childhood story?”
He laughed, thank god, easing the tension. “Alright, I'll give you one. When I was twelve, I tried to impress a girl by skateboarding down this massive hill. Ended up in the hospital with a broken arm. She didn’t even visit.”
Her jaw dropped. “No way. you sacrificed your bones for love and she didn’t show up?”
“Tragic, right?” He grinned. “Your turn.”
She hesitated, why had she picked that question? Childhood stories weren’t funny for her. They were messy, complicated.
Still, she said softly, "I used to pretend to be sick so I could stay home from school. Not because I hated school, but… because I hated coming home after. It was easier to just stay there all day.”
The silence that followed made her want to sink into the floor. too much. Too heavy. But then he said, quietly, “That must’ve been really hard.”
“I don't think I've ever told anyone that before. Not even my best friend. Sorry I always do that, bring the mood down when we’re trying to be funny."
He sat forward, hand pressed to the cool surface of the wall. He’d taken to sitting just by the wall rather than on the couch. It felt better here. He wanted to touch her. To tell her she wasn’t wrong for sharing. that her mess wasn’t too much. “You don’t have to be funny all the time,” he said. “Not with me.” He had never been much of a piner before, but he could only imagine what his face looked like.
“Thank you,” She whispered. That was it. The pod melted away. The cameras, the noise, the game. None of it mattered. It was just them, their voices tangled together like they’d known each other forever.
“Can I ask you something?” She muttered, breaking the quiet between them.
That question felt different between them. Her arms wrapped tight around herself, her guard higher than it had been in that moment. He noticed immediately.
“Hey. what’s wrong?”
“I just erm, some of the other girls, they say things, and they talk about you and I don’t blame them I just want to know where we stand, where I am, I don’t want to … get hurt.”
She was met with a quiet she didn’t know how to deal with.
Her heart pounded, shame flooding her cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's stupid.”
“It's not stupid.” His voice was firm. “I’m just mad, yes I talk to other girls obviously, I think I could be friends with some of them hell but they’re not, they’re not you.”
Her throat tightened. “Everyone says I'm being naive. That you’re probably… saying the same things to someone else.”
“Do you believe that?”
She closed her eyes. “I don't want to. But…”
“Then don’t,” he cut in gently. “Because I'm telling you, I don't feel this with anyone else. I can't. I don't even want to try.”
The wall between them felt thinner than ever, as though if she just leaned forward hard enough, she’d break right through.
He could feel it - her doubt, her fear, the walls she was trying so hard to keep up. He hated it. hated that the voices in the house had gotten to her. “Listen,” he said quietly, leaning closer. “This isn’t a game for me anymore. I don't care what the others say. I don't care if I look stupid for choosing so soon. I know what I want.”
Her breath hitched.
“What do you want?” She whispered.
His chest tightened. He wanted to tell her everything. That he wanted mornings with her, fights with her, a whole messy life with her. that he wanted to risk everything for the way she made him feel.
Instead, he said, “I want you.”
“What's your biggest fear, Lando?”
“Letting people down, you?”
“My biggest fear is being too much. Or not enough. And people are leaving because of it.”
“The right person won’t leave. Not if they see you the way I do.”
He could hear her breathing through the speakers, uneven.
Then, almost under her breath: “I think I love you.”
“Huh?”
“No You weren’t supposed to hear that, forget it.”
Forget? As if he ever could.
His pulse was pounding, breath coming faster. He'd been careful not to use that word, careful not to push too far too fast. But hearing it from her, raw, unplanned, true - it knocked the air out of him more than any rush ever had in the car.
"Don't take it back.” At this point he was almost pleading with her.
The silence on the other side was sharp.
“I… I don't want you to feel trapped.”
“I don’t.” He didn’t care what he was going to have to do, he was going to prove she was worthy no matter what. “If anything, I've been trying not to say it first.”
Her gasp carried through the wall, shaky and sweet.
He let the truth settle between them, terrifying and undeniable.
There isn't even anything wrong, really. You just can't seem to pull yourself out of your head nowadays. Max, your doting, loving boyfriend, who would do anything for you, unfortunately does not have the specific skillset to help ease the worries that are always permeating your thoughts.
Thankfully (?), he knows someone who does.
I come bearing... filth. Had some comments clamoring for more hypnokink after this fic, and I think it is time I deliver. The full fic will go live on Patreon as an early release for Tier 1 members at 7PM today, 24 May, PHT. Stay tuned for the Tier 2 release, and for the full tumblr release!
In the meantime, enjoy this snippet.
Special thanks to the Heathens server, y'all know who you are, for sticking with me throughout this idea.
“It’s silly, isn’t it?” You ask Max, a small frown on your lips. You chew the inside of your cheek anxiously, your eyes fixed on the ground. “I mean- forget about it, I shouldn’t even have brought it up.”
“It’s not weird.” Max states, though there’s an awkwardness to his words. He runs a hand through his hair, his blue eyes narrowed with an emotion you can’t seem to read. “I guess- I just don’t think I’d be able to do it for you. I did some reading.”
Affection rushes through you at the effort your boyfriend had apparently put into this, even going so far as to research. Max might be saying no, but at least you knew he’d given the idea a think before shooting you down.
There is a part of you that is disappointed, though, despite the care you can see Max had given the subject matter. You think you’ve done a good job at schooling your face into a neutral expression. That thought is quickly negated when you notice the way blond brows are scrunched up together.
Max opens his mouth to speak, but you decide to cut him off to save yourself any further embarrassment.
“Honestly, it’s fine, Max. I just appreciate that you- y’know- even considered it- like I know it’s weird but-”
“Calm down, schatje.” Your boyfriend interjects, his tone as direct and assertive as ever, not a single ounce of judgment layering his words. “I mean, I can’t do it. Do you think I have a soothing, relaxing personality?”
You can’t help but let out a small snort. Max, as much as you loved him to bits, was not someone you would describe as a mellow personality.
The Dutchman seems to brighten at hearing you laugh, a grin spreading across his face. His blue eyes sparkle with excitement, and his lips are moving once more before you can even respond to his previous words.
“I have an idea, though. Trust me, I of all people know the value of being able to get out of your own head.”
All you can do is tilt your head to the side curiously.
When Charles Leclerc shows up on your doorstep a few weeks, you want to strangle your boyfriend.
It isn’t that you mind Charles- it’s actually quite the opposite. You find the Monegasque endearing. The sheer affection he shows Max, in response to Max’s own very apparent admiration (that had given birth to Lestappen) is something that warms your heart. The casual affection that Max and Charles seem to share with each other, despite their tumultuous history is something that Max doesn’t really get a lot of.
That being said, it isn’t like you are close with Charles- Max is.
Max isn’t even here. He’s not even in Monaco. He’s at the Red Bull HQ, doing some sim work to help with car developments.
“May I come in?” The brunette asks, a pleasant smile on his lips, green eyes warm with affection. “Max did say you would be home at this moment.”
Despite the friendly tone, there’s something subtly assertive in Charles’ voice that has you stepping aside, freeing the doorway for him to move through.
Your apartment is a clean mess.
You would never have called yourself organized, with your books strewn carelessly across the coffee table, and a blanket spread out on your couch, lopsided. Typically you would have been embarrassed, and shut the door in your unexpected visitor’s face to clean up even a little bit.
For some reason you can’t put your finger on, you instead end up shutting the door behind him gently, and following him into your home.
“Max isn’t here, by the way.” You say to your guest, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck, your cheeks flushed pink when you realize exactly how unpresentable your apartment looks.
Charles spots your discomfort and is quick to put you at ease. “You have a lovely place, ma loutre.”
He doesn’t even seem to be pretending. There’s an avid interest in the sea glass green eyes as he scans the photos hanging on your walls- of you and your family, of you and Max.
“Please,” you say with an eye roll, smoothing down the hoodie- Max’s- that you’re donning. “It’s a mess, you can say it.”
Charles shakes his head, his brown, almost dirty blond hair bouncing with the motion. “It’s homey- way better than the hotel rooms I find myself staying in most of the year.”
You don’t know how to respond to that comment.
So you don’t.
“So what brings you to my place, Monsieur Leclerc?” You inquire, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Also, do you want anything to drink? I won’t apologize for my appearance- I was not expecting anyone.”
“Water would be splendid.”
You busy yourself by heading to the kitchen, unaware of the way that Charles’ eyes trail your movements. You pour two glasses of water from the pitcher in the refrigerator, before heading back to the common area, where he’s already sitting.
“Ah, thank you. Cheers,” Charles quips, his ringed fingers wrapping around the glass you set down in front of him, lifting it up in a toast before taking a sip. “I heard from Max that I might be of some help to you. Is that English?”
You bite back a laugh.
“Yes, that’s right- but what do you mean, help?” You inquire, settling into the seat across your guest, eyeing him with interest.
“I mean, I heard you might need some help getting out of your own head.”
You almost fall out of your seat.
You want to kill Max. Or dump him. You haven’t quite decided at this point, but your boyfriend spilling one of your most intimate thoughts was crime-worthy, in your opinion. Kidnapping Jimmy and Sassy also sounded like a great idea at this point-
“Stop scowling.” Charles blurts out forcefully, making you freeze. You hadn’t even realized it before he had mentioned it, but your teeth were grinding together, almost to the point of pain.
You try to relax your face, intentionally widening your eyes as to shift away from the narrowed, murderous glare that you had been giving the glass in front of you.
“Deep breaths, ma loutre,” the Monegasque accent says placatingly, his smile as warm and gentle as ever. “Don’t be too upset with Max. He just wanted to help, and I myself have some experience with hypnosis. He does not, non?”
There is a cadence to Charles’ words that has you calming almost instantaneously, your sharp breaths slowing to a much calmer pace.
“That’s it,” Charles speaks once more. “Good, just take a few deep breaths for me, yes? Can’t have you angry for this conversation.”
Your thoughts seem to slow the more you listen to the Monegasque’s words, the slight scratch in his voice, the soothing, almost melodious tone. You don’t even seem to realize just how much your breaths are slowing until a slight fuzziness settles over your brain, and you release a slow, deep sigh, the anger and discomfort that had simmered within you evaporating into nothingness.
“As I was saying,” the Monegasque says, clapping his hands together, startling you into sitting up straight- you’d ended up slumping into your seat just a little bit. “I think I can give you what you need, and I think you can feel it too, can’t you?”
You immediately find yourself nodding.
Don't miss the full early release on Patreon at 7PM today, 24 May, PHT!
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Y’ALL CANNOT LET THIS FLOP!! It’s so good 🤭 had to break out the horny license just to read the draft 😩 (that’s actual photo evidence of me reading below)
I am absolutely in love with all ur writing so I hope u have good taste too! Do u have any blogs or fics that u’d recommend, I feel like I’ve read almost everything on F1blr? Thank u ☺️
AMARANTHINEGHOST'S FIC RECS!!!! <333
THANK YOU SO MUCH <333 i hope i have good taste too, but then again i think i'm easy to please !!! there's probably a fair amount i can recommend, but we will start with this for now...! took the wrist brace off for this one
and instead of just adding to the list, i'll keep in mind some whenever i come across them and make a new list!!!
all credit goes to the people i tagged!!!
CHARLES-
fluff
make a wish by @mclqren
whos child is that by @cynical-ghost
smut
you're my fucking star by @va1entinesg4l
LANDO-
fluff
tan lines by @va1entinesg4l
everybody talks by @povlnfour (also any and everything by her, she's amazing)
lunch preferences by @doromoni
you stole it by @mirohlayo
steps to you by @oofthwoods
smut
mischief by @landosjpg
i'll do anything you tell me to by @uglyducklingofthe2000s
ridiculous by @luvth0t
MAX-
fluff
okay mr championship by @sweeterlovers
flowers are a language of their own by @lightsoutletsgo
ending the war by @princepiastri
LOGAN-
fluff
glitter bomb by @verstarppen
the alex albon approval test by @planetpiastri
fruit cutter hearts by @foreveralbon (anything by her is good, trust)
You exhaled shakily as your eyes scanned the caption you'd drafted in your notes app. You didn't even tear your eyes away from the screen as Charles slumped down onto the couch next to you.
"Everything okay mon amour?" You swallowed and nodded, offering your phone to him so he could read the caption. He was silent for a minute before he turned to look at you, tears in his eyes,
"I am so so proud of you." You smiled, feeling yourself getting emotional, sniffling a little as he pulled you into him. You led there with him just enjoying the quiet comfort he provided before he spoke once more,
"When are you going to post it?" You giggled and sat up, Charles following suit,
"Are you gonna just drop it on instagram with no warning again?" You winked at him before unlocking your phone and typing out the post. Once you'd proofread it you hit 'post', immediately locking your phone and turning your notifications off as they already started pouring in. Charles gaped at you for a moment before scrabbling to find his phone, not struggling to locate it as it buzzed and vibrated constantly with new notifications,
"You could have given me time to prepare!"
♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧♪₊ ⊹♬˚₊‧
y/nsworld
Liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 25,942,833
y/nsworld here we are, a year later and another surprise for you beautiful people! 'all the things I love to tell you' is out now on streaming platforms everywhere! oh wow, how exciting it is to finally be able to tell you guys about this 🥹 this album is the second half to my healing journey and it's full of love and light and hope for the future.
a huge thank you to my company and management for giving me the freedom to release my music in the way I felt I needed to.
thank you to my friends for listening to these songs in the car at 3am and crying with me when we realise just how far we've come, for putting up with me stealing their napkins at dinner to write lyrics and for once again holding my hand until I felt ready to take a step on my own. as always, thank you to my incredible fans who inspire me to keep writing and whom without NONE of this would be possible.
and finally to my love, charles, thank you for being my muse, my biggest encourager, my musical partner and my rock through the past year. this album is about you, for you and was made with you. thank you for letting me call you the love of my life every day. you're all I need until forever falls apart
can't wait to see you all on tour soon!
love y/n 🤍
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y.nmusic I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE TO BEGIN WAIT WHAT?
⤷ ynloverrr ISTG SHE CAN'T KEEP DROPPING ALBUMS ON US LIKE THIS
y/nupdates I'm gonna need someone to dissect everything about this post in a twitter thread 😭
taylorswift I'm so proud of you for this album 💜 can't wait to come and watch you on tour!
Comment liked by y/nsworld
sabrinacarpenter I will let you steal my napkins anytime if it means I get songs like pancakes for dinner 😭🫶🏼
Comment liked by y/nsworld
francisca.cgomes I need to breakup with pierre just to experience falling in love with him again with this album
Comment liked by y/nsworld
⤷ y/nsworld babe i love you sm 😭
⤷ francisca.cgomes baby? i love you more
⤷ pierregasly you're literally MY girlfriend?
⤷ y/nsworld but she's MY wife
Comment liked by francisca.cgomes
yncharles oh to be a fly on the wall when lando, lily and alex heard these songs for the first time 😭🥹
⤷ y/nsworld coming to tikotok and insta reels soon my love 🫶🏼
⤷ yncharles OMG OMG SHE REPLIED SKSKDKDFKJ
⤷ alex_albon pls don't use the clip of me sobbing over 'that part'
Comment liked by y/nsworld
⤷ y/nsworld too late bestie 😄
⤷ lilymhe I am still not over and will never get over "you might not like her"
Comment liked by y/nsworld
⤷ y/nsworld I will never be over the hug you gave me when I finished playing it to you for the first time
charles_leclerc mon amour, it was an honor to be involved in your music journey and I am so thankful for every day I get to share with you. darling I'd wait for you til forever falls apart 🤍
Comment liked by y/nsworld
⤷ chachacharles THEY'RE MY ROMAN EMPIRE 😭
⤷ charlesfann pls tell me someone else noticed charles credited as songwriter on 'til forever falls apart' 😭
ynmylove LETS 👏 TALK 👏 ABOUT 👏 HOW CHARLES AND Y/N USED SONG TITLES IN THEIR COMMENTS TO EACH OTHER 😭
⤷ charlesandcarlos try not to cry challenge FAILED
on twt:
y/n's q+a on ig:
charles_leclerc
Liked by y/nsworld, maxverstappen1 and 12,942,833
charles_leclerc my incredibly talented girlfriend's album is out now! I am beyond proud to be able to say that she trusted me to help her not only record some of the songs but write them too. I didn't know I was much of a songwriter but looking into your eyes suddenly turned me into a poet ma belle.
everyday you inspire me with your creativity, your passion, your energy and your love for those around you. I could write you a million love songs and there would still be things left to say. you're all I need now until forever falls apart.
j'taime mon amour ❤️
(if you haven't heard the album yet make sure you go and listen now!)
View all 45,730 comments
y/nsworld I love you more than any love song could ever express. my muse, my love, my life 🤍
Comment liked by charles_leclerc
⤷ ynloverrr OH MY GOD?! I'M SO VIOLENTLY UNWELL OH GOD
⤷ ferrar1 'looking into your eyes suddenly turned me into a poet'
y/nandcharles THEY ARE MY ROMAN EMPIRE
sabrinacarpenter This album is literally on repeat! I cried the first time I heard 'you might not like her' and every time since
charlesforwdc can we all please just appreciate the STUNNING piano in 'so this is love'
Comment liked by y/nsworld
⤷ y/nsworld we were literally just messing about in the studio and decided we liked it enough for the album!
⤷ y/nvocals the fact they were both "messing about" and sound THIS GOOD IS INSANE
maxverstappen1 congrats mate! you nailed this project!
landonorris from sliding into the dm's to collaborating on an album is CRAZY
⤷ y/nsworld LANDO 😭😭
⤷ f1fannn exCUSE ME? sliding what?!
⤷ charleswifey charles sliding in her dm's is crazy but understandable 😭
⤷ charles_leclerc try the other way around... 👨🦯
⤷ y/nsworld BABY! 😭
Summary: a very bad snowstorm, bears in the ice hockey arena, and a one night only poster board pick-me-up. 6.6k words
Warnings: mentions of physical violence, small mention of alcohol
“So. You and Oscar spent a lot of time together over the break,” Lily says, carefully.
You roll your eyes and set the glue stick in your hand down, sensing this is going to be a long conversation. “We were the only ones here for like, a week. And we were bored. And then Max showed up, so it wasn’t just us.”
Lily isn’t looking at you. She has a wine glass in one hand and a magazine in the other. The two of you are making vision boards, which Max had called “glorified collages” when he called five minutes ago to ask about family dinner for tomorrow.
Lily hums. “He’s just so… quiet.”
You shrug and take a sip of your wine. “He’s not, really, once you get to know him. He’s just… it’s easier for him one on one, you know?”
Lily nods. You nod, too, and lean over to pick up another magazine. You flip through the pages, looking for whatever sticks out. Your friends collect magazines and newspapers and fun posters and give them to you, and you hoard them for days like these. A little sun drawing pops out at you from the page, and you reach for the scissors.
You clear your throat. “Nothing happened, if that’s what you were trying to say. We just. We had some movie nights, played some video games, took a couple walks. That’s all.”
Lily looks up at you and stares. “Right.”
You stare right back. “What?”
“Did you want something to happen?” She asks, and you freeze, the magazine page half turned.
“What?” You ask again.
“You said nothing happened,” she says. “Did you want something to happen?”
You stare at the wine in your glass, the way the warm light of the lamp catches on the red liquid. Your stomach swirls. Did you want something to happen? He’s your friend. Your study partner. He’s your best friends’ teammate. Did you want something to happen? He’s a sweetheart once you get to know him. He holds your hand when you walk by the soccer field and he doesn’t push you when you can’t do it. Did you want something to happen?
You shake your head. “We’re just friends. We bonded over physics trauma. We were just bored.”
Lily nods and reaches for the scissors. “Okay.”
You want to say more to defend yourself, but you think that’ll be even less convincing. So you move your focus back to the vision board and try not to think too much about what she asked you. It doesn’t matter what you wanted, anyways. He’d never see you that way, and if he did, he’s probably too scared of his teammates to do anything about it.
…..
January slips away faster than you’d expected. It’s full of syllabuses and assignments and far too much homework for this early in the semester. You do a lot of it at the kitchen table in the guys’ house, sat across from Oscar even though you’re not in a class together anymore. It’s just nice to have someone to study with, even if he has no idea what you’re talking about when you whine about your biology assignments.
February brings with it the warnings of a winter storm for the ages. On a Thursday night, you sit on the couch in the living room, giving your homework a feeble attempt. The guys are back from an afternoon practice, and everyone is settling in for the evening.
“You know who we play next week,” Carlos says, leaning over the back of the couch and looking at you.
“Can’t remember,” you answer, not even looking up from your book. “Not the Badgers.”
The Badgers are the Timberwolves’ sworn enemies. The rivalry game weekend is one of the most anticipated events on campus. It’s marked on the calendar in the kitchen with a dark red X. It’s weeks away.
“No,” Carlos says, raising his eyebrows when you finally look up at him. “The Bears.”
For just a moment, you wonder what sort of significance that’s supposed to hold. They play a lot of teams. Most of them, they’re relatively civil towards. A lot of the players grew up together on junior teams, and they’re still friends outside of game weekends. You’re about to ask if he has beef with a Bears player when you notice Oscar’s stiff posture where he sits on the floor in front of the couch. He’s been half watching the TV, half working on homework. Then you remember.
Oscar played for the Bears for two years. That was his former team. The ones who treated him so badly he quit hockey. You blink up at Carlos and pray he doesn’t take the route you think he’s going to.
“You know who used to play for the Bears,” Carlos starts, a lilting tone to his voice.
Oscar turns over his shoulder with a grimace. “Play is a strong term,” he says. “I did a lot more sitting than skating.”
Carlos shrugs and wiggles his eyebrows. “I am just saying. Maybe we should be worried that Piastri here will go easy on his friends.”
“Not my friends,” Oscar says, quietly.
You slip your hand off the couch and press it to his shoulder blade, hidden from Carlos’ view behind blankets and cushions. Oscar relaxes slightly, and his eyes flicker to yours. Carlos is just trying to rile him up, probably. There might be a hint of truth to it- trying to test Oscar’s loyalty, which is stupid.
You turn to Carlos and blink. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Like your own apartment?”
Oscar laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough, muffling it into his elbow. Carlos grins, gaze flickering between you and Oscar, mischief in his eyes.
“Oh, Bunny has claws,” he teases.
By Sunday, everyone is panicked about the impending snow. The stores sell out of all the essentials before you can even bother to plan the week’s family dinner. You and Max will have to make do with what’s left on the bare shelves of the grocery store. The aisles are packed with people. You’ve lost Logan in the fray.
“He’ll be fine,” Max says, trying to maneuver the cart around a small child. He makes a funny face at her, and she laughs. “He will find us, and if he doesn’t…”
“Oh my god, please sound more concerned,” you say.
He shrugs and reaches for a box of Kraft Mac and cheese.
“You have to be kidding,” you say with a glare.
He nods, looking at the grocery list again. “I am. We are buying more TimTams?”
Your face grows hot against your will. You snatch the list from his hand as he eyes you, brows raised. At that exact moment, Logan, your lifesaver, appears from the crowd.
“I got so lost,” he says, eyes wide. “This place is a madhouse.”
Max nods, and he looks around, set determination on his face. “Alright. Let’s get what we need and get out. Logan, hold onto the cart.”
Logan rolls his eyes. “I’m not a child,” he says, but he grabs the cart anyways.
By the time the three of you get in the car, the first few snowflakes are falling. Max sits stiffly in the passenger seat the whole drive, like he’s worried a little snow will send you into a violent crash. You make it home safely, of course, and unload the groceries together. Charles is sitting on the couch in front of the living room window, staring at the snow, a cup of hot chocolate in hand.
“It’s already pretty,” he says, softly.
You ruffle his hair. “Is there more hot chocolate?”
He nods. “Oscar’s making it.”
You head for the kitchen, bags in hand, and find Oscar and Alex huddled around the counter. You give them a smile as you unpack the groceries, and Max and Logan do the same. Oscar looks up at you, eyes bright.
“What do you want in yours?” He asks.
You stand with your hands on your hips, thinking hard. He’s got plenty of supplies- mini marshmallows and sprinkles and caramel drizzle and whipped cream. You shrug.
“Keep it simple,” you say. “A couple marshmallows and some whipped cream.”
He nods eagerly and gets to work. By the time your bags are empty, it’s ready. He hands it off to you with a happy smile- the whipped cream sits in a perfect spiral atop the mug. He looks so proud, and it’s such a sweet gesture, you almost lean over and kiss him right on the forehead. Almost, before you remember half his teammates are here, and Max is watching, and everyone is apparently suspicious. And that it would probably be a strange thing for you to do. You just smile and thank him quietly instead.
You head back into the living room with the mug, trying to shake his soft, proud grin from your brain. Charles is there, in the loveseat next to the window, and he pats the cushion, beckoning you to join him. You sink down, turning so you can look out the window, too. He tosses a blanket over your lap.
“He gave you more whipped cream than me,” he says, pouting.
You shrug. “Maybe he likes me better.”
Charles narrows his eyes at you. “Do you remember, a few months ago, when you thought he hated you?”
You nod. “Funny how things change, huh?”
Oscar walks in then, a mug in his hands. His gaze slips to the window, brows raising on his forehead, and he smiles happily. You smile, too and turn back towards the window as he walks over.
“Pretty,” he says, softly. “Wow, it’s really starting to come down, huh?”
You sigh. “God, I hope they cancel classes tomorrow.”
Charles sighs and sits up. “That reminds me. I have an assignment due at midnight.”
He stands up and stalks off, taking his hot chocolate with him. Oscar makes a sympathetic noise, but he doesn’t hesitate to steal Charles’ spot on the couch. You smile at him when he sits down. Both of you put your legs up on the cushions so you can stare out the window. You rest your head against the back of the couch and let your knee rest against his. Outside, Logan pulls up with a full car, having offered to pick up a few of the team members who didn’t want to walk in the snow. Carlos climbs out of the front seat and leans over, already trying to scrape together a snowball. Oscar sighs. You turn to look at him, and he’s got a look of apprehension on his face. You nudge your knee against his.
“What’s up?” You ask.
He shrugs. “Maybe they’ll cancel the games next weekend, too.”
He doesn’t want to play against his old team. From what he’s told you, you can’t really blame him. He’d hinted at a toxic environment when he first told you, but the longer the two of you have been friends, the more information you’ve pulled out of him. He’d mentioned something about a scar on his upper lip, how his old team captain had left it there when he pushed him onto the ice. Your heart breaks for him.
Under the blanket, you reach out and rest your hand on his knee, lightly. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
He grins widely at that, and then hides it behind his mug of hot chocolate. You smile right back. Outside, Carlos hits Logan directly in the stomach with a snowball. The others are making their way towards the house. You brace yourself for the impending chaos.
Charles and Max cook dinner, and there are enough people in the house that you end up eating in the living room on one of the couches. Lando sits next to you, while Oscar sits on the floor in front of you, his back against the couch. The news is playing on the TV, and you all steal glances at the bottom of the display, where the area snow closures are being announced.
Max pokes his head into the living room from the dining room. “Snow’s getting bad. Anyone who doesn’t live here should probably go now, yeah?”
People begin to stand up. You almost follow suit, figuring it’s about time you headed back to your apartment, and not really wanting to walk in the snow. Lando grabs your wrist and tugs, though, and Oscar’s head whips around to look at the two of you.
“Maybe you should just stay,” Lando suggests, a small smile on his face. “It’s a storm warning, you know.”
You blink softly at him, though you sit back down. “Lan, I don’t have any of my stuff. I don’t have clothes to sleep in. I have an 8am class, and I don’t want to sleep on the couch and have a sore neck-“
“Oh come on, you know they’re going to cancel classes,” Oscar says, nudging your knee lightly.
“And if they don’t, I’ll go get your stuff,” Lando suggests. He pouts. “And you don’t have to sleep on the couch, I’ll get the air mattress out. C’mon. What if your power goes out?”
“When my power goes out, yours also goes out,” you remind him.
“But we can all be powerless together,” Charles chimes in from the other end of the couch.
You groan. “You guys. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself in a little bit of snow.”
You hear Logan’s car start up outside. You try to get up again, but Lando wraps his arms around your arm, and Oscar reaches for your ankles. You let out a squeaky laugh and try to break free just as Max walks back into the living room, brows furrowed.
“Max! Tell Bunny she should stay here,” Lando calls out.
Max blinks, eyes darting over the entire situation before he turns to look at you. “There’s a winter storm. You live alone. You are not going anywhere.”
You grumble, but you go limp anyways. Lando lets go of you and high fives Max as he walks past. Oscar holds onto your legs for slightly longer, and he squeezes your calf softly before he pulls away. You try to act normal about it, though from the side eyed look Lando gives you, you’re not sure you were successful.
Eventually, you head to the kitchen to help Max clean up from dinner. Lily, Alex, George, and Oscar sit at the dining room table, playing cards, while you and Max do dishes and Lando and Charles clean counters. When your eyes stay on the Oscar for too long, watching him laugh happily, the sink nearly overflows. Max nudges your shoulder.
“You can go hangout, if you want. I can do the dishes,” he suggests.
You shake your head. “M’fine. Just spaced out a bit.”
Max nods, though you can feel him watching you every so often. Lando and Charles start slapping each other with rolled up wet washcloths, and that distracts Max enough, at least for a few minutes. There’s music playing, and you hum along as the soapy water warms your fingers. When the dishes are done, Max ushers you to the dining room, and you take a seat in the chair on next to Oscar. Lando and Charles join, too, and you smile around at everyone. Snow is falling in the backyard, and the world feels quiet. Oscar’s fingers brush against yours when you both reach for a card, and you can’t help but smile. You’re exactly where you want to be.
At 9:30pm, just when you’re starting to yawn, and Lando is talking about going and setting up the air mattress, everyone’s phones go off. Little dings and chirps and vibration sounds echo through the dining room. Alex is the first one to open the email.
“Classes are canceled!” He calls out. “Snow day!”
The room erupts into chaos. Lando and Max hug each other, George stands up and cheers, while Charles collapses forward onto the table in relief. You turn to Oscar as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and shakes you gently. Alex leans over and kisses Lily on the cheek as she cheers. The joy in the room is infectious. Snow days have the ability to turn you all into children again, apparently.
Oscar leaves his arm around the back of your chair for the rest of the game. You try desperately to act like it’s not there, like you can’t feel the warmth of him on the back of your neck or the way his fingers brush against your shoulder. It’s consuming your thoughts, though, making it insanely difficult to focus on the card game at hand.
He’s one of the first to go to bed, and you miss the feeling as soon as he’s gone. You head up to bed eventually, and you pass Charles in the hallway on the way to brush your teeth. He gives you a sleepy half hug and stumbles into his room. You find yourself looking at Oscar’s door and wondering if he’s still awake, but you’re not sure what you’d even do if he was.
You wake up the next morning to Lando still out cold, snoring loudly into his pillow, and the early sun inching its way through the blinds. The air mattress is partially deflated, and you slide off of it and onto the floor with a soft thud. There’s a hoodie laying on the floor that seems relatively clean, and you pull it on. You know immediately it’s not Lando’s- it smells like a different laundry detergent and cologne, but it feels familiar and warm, so you leave it on. Then you wrap a blanket around your shoulders before you head downstairs.
Oscar’s sitting on the loveseat, still rubbing sleep from his eyes when you find him. He turns and blinks up at you, eyelids heavy. You blink back, long and slow, the way you’d been told to do with pet cats. It seems to work on him- he smiles. Without a word, you head for the kitchen.
You return with two mugs of tea, and he smiles up at you. He makes room for you to sit, and you do so happily, curling your legs under you and fully facing the window. It’s a winter wonderland outside. You can’t even see where the front yard ends and the street begins. Snow is still falling, though at a slower rate.
“It’s so… quiet,” Oscar whispers.
He stretches one leg out behind you on the couch, and bends his other knee up next to you. When you lean against him lightly, he doesn’t protest or move away. He just smiles.
You nod in agreement. “Pretty. I love snow.”
You blink a couple times and take a sip of your tea. Oscar’s leg is warm against your side. He reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You sigh and let your eyelids flutter shut.
“Still sleepy?” He asks.
You nod. “Yeah, but the air mattress is deflating, and Lando’s snoring, so…”
“Here,” he says, and you blink at him in confusion.
Oscar’s hand brushes against yours where you’re holding the mug. Your grip falters, and he slips it from your hand and sets it down on the nearby table. Before you can blink again, he leans forward and wraps an arm around your middle. Then he uses it to haul you towards him, your back against his chest, side by side on the little sofa. You’re nestled between him and the back of the couch, surrounded in warmth, your skin burning up. You can feel the soft rise and fall of his chest behind you.
“Okay?” He asks.
You nod, too sleepy to form the words, too sleepy to worry about what this means or if it’s weird or if someone else will see the two of you and have questions. He lets out a little laugh, his hand slipping into the pocket of the hoodie you’re wearing.
“Is this my hoodie?” He asks. You shrug. “Think it is, there's a hole in this pocket.”
“It was on Lando’s floor,” you mumble, burrowing deeper next to him. “So it’s fair game.”
He laughs, but he lets it go. You rest your cheek against his other arm and bask in the softness of it all, blinking at the falling snow and the soft morning light. Sleep scratches at the back of your brain, and as much as you want to fight it, as much as you want to stay present, it melts over you. The last thing you feel before you fall back asleep is the press of his cheek against the top of your head.
When you wake up, he’s in the kitchen, talking lowly with Alex. There’s a pillow wedged behind you to keep you from falling over and off the couch, and the blanket is pulled up around your chin. You don’t blame him for getting up, and you’re a bit relieved that he seems to have done it before the rest of his roommates are up, because you might have never heard the end of it. Though, when Lando rolls out of bed and joins you on the couch, with Max not far behind, and the three of you squeeze onto the little sofa together, you wonder if they’d have even questioned it. Maybe they’d have seen it the same as this- friends curled up on a slow morning, sharing space and warmth. Maybe that’s all it was for Oscar, too. You’re probably the only one who felt butterflies over it.
Oscar pouts when he walks in and sees his spot taken, though. Behind him in the doorway, Alex meets your gaze with a smirk, eyebrows raised, and you start to wonder again. Eventually, the rest of the people in the house join you downstairs, and you all start to make snow day plans. You close your eyes and listen to them talk. Whatever they come up with, you’ll enjoy, you know it already.
…..
Unfortunately for Oscar, the snow clears, and the first game against the Bears goes forward as planned that week. It’s a mess. The Timberwolves are up by two by the time they’re halfway into the second period, but the Bears are playing like, well, bears. Not a lot of penalties, but cheap shots and bad moves and what looks to be exhausting hockey. They’re frustrated by their own inability to score by the third period, and that’s when the claws really come out. The refs send a Bears player to the box for slashing. He gets back on the ice, and then another one gets called for tripping. There’s a few minutes left, they’re down a player, and they’re desperate.
When Oscar gets locked into a battle for the puck with his old team captain, you hold your breath. He manages to bat it away and send it skidding towards Max, but his helmet and face mask get shoved askew in the process. Somehow, you just know. Everyone in the arena follows the puck, but you watch as the captain on the other team rips his gloves off. You grab onto Lily’s arm and watch his fist connect with Oscar’s jaw. The Timberwolves bench erupts into chaos. The fight is over before it even starts, because Oscar just pushes the guy away and doesn’t swing back. The team captain gets sent to the penalty box. Oscar gets his helmet back on and gets back in the game.
An hour and a half later, you sit at the kitchen counter in their house, a mug in front of you. The house is quiet. You’re not sure why you’re still here- Lando went to bed a while ago, and Max had retreated to his room even before that. You’d made the excuse of staying to clean up the dishes, but now you’re just… here, still. Waiting. You should really go home. It’s bordering on midnight. If you walk home much later than this and any of the guys find out, they’ll be pissed.
The front door creaks open. Soft footsteps echo down the hallway, and you look up from your mug of tea. Oscar doesn’t seem surprised when he walks into the kitchen and finds you sitting there. He stops in the doorway, shoulders dropping. There’s a bruise shadowing his jaw. You wince.
“It looks worse than it feels,” he mumbles.
You stand up from the stool and head for the fridge. You can hear him walking closer as you rummage around in the freezer, finally finding one of the ice packs they keep in there. On a whim, you also reach into a cleverly disguised bag of frozen peas, and come out with two chocolate dipped ice cream bars. When you turn back to Oscar, items in hand, he looks perplexed.
“We have ice cream?” He asks, quietly.
You smirk. “Max hides them. But he can’t keep secrets from me. He won’t mind.”
He takes a seat on the stool, and you flip the switch for the overhead lights. He grimaces.
“I already had it looked at,” he says, brows furrowed. “Trainer said it’s fine.”
You hum as you step closer, pretending your heart doesn’t thud in your chest when you come into close range. “I know,” you say, reaching up and placing the ice pack against his face gently. He hisses. “This is actually an interrogation.”
His hand comes up to hold the pack, fingers brushing against yours. He laughs, then winces. “Yeah? What about?”
You drop your hand to your side. “Why didn’t you fight back?”
He sighs heavily, looking anywhere other than your face. You roll your eyes and open one of the ice cream bars and hand it to him. Then you sit down on another stool, facing him, before you open your own ice cream, too.
“I don’t wanna get suspended,” he shrugs. “And I don’t really fight.”
You decide not to bring up the guy at the party last semester and the way Oscar had been ready to punch him. “Even if they hit you first?”
He nods and makes a little noise. You wonder if he ever fought back when they were on the same team, or if he just accepted it. Your heart aches for him. He shrugs again, eyes flickering up to yours. He looks so sweet, despite the harsh kitchen light, despite the purple tinge on his skin, even more with a bit of chocolate in the corner of his lips. You take a bite of your own ice cream in the hopes that it’ll cool you down.
“Just never felt worth it,” he admits. “I don’t know. Some people are in it for that, for the hits and the fights and the… aggression. I just like hockey. Besides, the guy got a penalty. So now he’s out for a game. That’s better than getting a hit on him.”
The tone he says the guy in is interesting- like he’s distancing himself, like it’s easier if he pretends it was just some guy and not the captain of his old team. You overheard some of Lando and Max’s hushed whispers. You know the guy said some shitty things about Oscar on the ice. And tomorrow, he has to play the rest of the team all over again. Oscar takes another bite of his ice cream and purses his lips.
“I’m okay,” he promises. “And if the guys think I'm going easy on them because I have some weird sense of loyalty, I’m really not.”
“Oh, Osc,” you say quietly, shaking your head. You reach across the gap and press your hand to his wrist, the one holding the ice pack. “Nobody thinks that.”
He shrugs. “Carlos was-“
“Carlos was being a dumbass, but he doesn’t really believe it,” you promise. “After the game, all they were worried about was you. That’s it.”
He lets out a huff and takes another bite of his ice cream, cracking through the chocolate shell. “I don’t wanna be worried about.”
You almost pull your hand from his wrist, but as soon as he says it, he winces, closing his eyes. You wait, rubbing your thumb against his skin. He takes a deep breath. You press your finger to his pulse point, and his breath hitches. You watch his shoulders move.
“I don’t mean that. It’s nice. Just. Had a bad day,” he says. “And we have to do it again tomorrow.”
You nod and squeeze his wrist. “That’s the shitty thing about the way college hockey works, huh.”
He nods. The ice pack bumps against his face, and he hisses. You muffle a laugh and reach to put your hand over his to steady it, keeping your grip gentle. He inhales through pursed lips and closes his eyes. He slips his hand off the ice pack and lets you hold it, and blood roars in your ears. It feels so trusting. Strangely intimate. His hand falls to your knee, and you try to breathe normally. You’re probably failing miserably. You swallow all the feelings down and try to come up with something to say.
“Tomorrow is a new day,” you remind him. “We can wake up and pretend today never happened. A new game, a new start.”
He sighs and closes his eyes. “I can try.”
“That’s all anyone could ask for,” you tell him. “That’s all you can ask yourself for.”
A wavering smile crosses his lips. You take a bite of your ice cream to stop yourself from leaning in to brush your own lips against his cheek. The two of you eat the rest of your ice cream bars in the peace and quiet, under the fluorescent kitchen lights. His hand stays on your knee, barely there, just resting. Your fingers go numb holding the ice pack, but you don’t complain. You can hold this for him, for a little bit. He’s holding onto enough.
…..
You wake up on the couch the next morning with an ache in your neck, because by the time you finished the ice cream Oscar insisted it was too late for you to walk home, and you hadn’t wanted to wake Lando by sneaking into his room. Upstairs, you can hear the guys starting to wake up. Soon they’ll be donning their suits and heading to the rink to get ready. You push yourself to sit up and run a hand through your hair. Then you head for the front door.
Once you’re home, you call Lily. “I have an idea,” you say, ”and I need your help.”
Lily, to her credit, doesn’t ask a lot of questions. You’re sure she sort of understands what’s going on without having to ask, but you’re grateful either way. The two of you shuffle into seats in the arena, eager to watch. You’re wearing your jersey today, hoping it brings good luck, and you’ve both gone full out with lines of blue face paint under your eyes.
When they come out onto the ice, Lando’s the first one to spot you. He does a double take, nudging at Max’s shoulder. They both stare, heads tilted. You can’t blame them. Instead of your normal seats, the two of you are in the front row, right down by the boards.
You’d sit here every game if you could, but the tickets are outrageously expensive on a college student budget, especially when you can sit in the student section for free. Today, though, you’d splurged. There’s a poster board sitting at your feet that you’ve worked painstakingly on all morning. It needs to be seen, and for that, you need to be up close.
Lily lets out a squeak when Alex skates over. “Oh! Hi!”
You roll your eyes affectionately at your friend as she makes hand gestures at her boyfriend through the plexiglass. It’s too loud for them to hear each other, especially through the glass, but Alex’s big smile says more than words ever could. For what’s definitely not the first time, you find yourself wishing you could have what they have. You want someone to smile like that when they see you. You want to feel that giddy feeling.
Lando skates over, tapping his glove against the glass. You just shrug and laugh. He points at the poster board. You shake your head, and he rolls his eyes. It’s not for him. He’s not the one who needs it. Out on the ice, Oscar’s next to Charles, heads bent together as they stretch. Max skates over and points at you, and from this close, you can see Charles' affectionate eye roll, and the way Oscar smiles. He goes from apprehension to adoration quite quickly. Something turns in your chest. Lando, who’s still standing nearby, quirks a brow, and you wonder how plainly it’s written across your face.
While they’re all looking, you take a deep breath, pick up the sign, and raise it above your head. Alex bursts into giddy laughter, Lando’s shoulders drop, and Oscar’s face lights up like the sun.
Kick Some PiASStri, it says. The letters were cut out of magazines and glued down this morning, and you’re still a bit worried it’s not dry enough, but it seems to hold for now. Max and Charles bump their heads against each other as they laugh. Oscar shakes his head, absolutely beaming. It’s a new game, a new start, another day, another chance. And maybe, what he needs is a little bit of encouragement. A reminder that there are people rooting for him.
He skates over, playfully shoulder checking Lando, who’s talking to Alex, now. Oscar takes his stick and scoops up a loose puck off the ice. He flips it over the barriers to you, and you catch it, shrieking at the temperature when it lands in your hand. It’s nearly as cold as the icepack you held to his face the night before.The bruise on his jaw is visible as he looks at you through the glass, but he’s smiling so wide all the same.
He yells something. You can barely hear, but between that and the lip reading you’ve learned to do after years of watching hockey, you think he says something about his “number one fan.”
You just smile and laugh and hold the puck up in the air, hoping the giddy feeling in your chest isn’t painfully obvious. He puts a glove against the plexiglass, and you place your hand there, too, and you know you can’t but you swear you feel the warmth of him. It’s probably just your brain playing tricks on you. He shakes his head, then pats his hand against the clear surface, and then he takes off across the ice.
When you turn to Lily, she’s smiling knowingly. “That was…”
“Shut up,” you grumble, rolling your eyes. “I don’t wanna hear it. He just needed some encouragement.”
It seems to work. He’s on fire that night, skating across the ice like it’s exactly where he belongs. You’re proud to be there, proud to hold the poster up when he scores, proud to call yourself his friend.
After the game, you find yourself in the back hallway of the arena, waiting. You can hear the music in the locker room from here, can hear the intermittent shouting and cheering from the guys. The other team is long gone. Lily’s back at the house already, getting things ready for the inevitable big party they’ll be having after a win like this. The poster you’d made leans against the wall.
Oscar’s the one to find you. His smile seems permanently set on his face tonight. His hair’s a mess, towel dried and sticking in every direction. “You kicked ass,” you call out.
He doesn’t stop at the socially acceptable distance apart. He walks close, so close you have to lean your head back just slightly to look him in the eye, so close that you can smell his shampoo and see the freckles on his cheeks. His hands are in his pockets, and your heart is in your throat. There’s something wild in his eyes. The bruise on his jaw is dark, almost blue now, and you reach up to brush a finger against the outline of it. He blinks and pulls his hands from his pockets.
“It was nice to see you in the front row,” he says.
Your pulse is pounding. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Those tickets are expensive. Just needed to make sure you could see the sign.”
He juts his chin out. “Yeah?”
You swallow, then nod. “Yeah. Did it work?”
He doesn’t answer. He just reaches out, and his hand lands on your hip. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing under your eye, and you hold your breath. His eyes search your face, darting between your eyes and cheeks and lips. You lean closer, closer. His cheeks are rosy and blotchy, from the game and the post game shower and- and maybe, from this, too. Is he feeling it, too? Is his heart racing, is he holding his breath, are there butterflies swirling around in his stomach?
Just when you think you can’t hold your breath any longer, he closes the gap, pressing his lips against your cheek. You wonder if he can feel how warm your face is beneath his lips, if he can hear the way your heartbeat picks up. It’s just a kiss on the cheek, but you let your eyes fall shut anyways, let the warmth wash over you, down your spine and all the way to your fingertips and toes. This is better than a thank you, better than anything, really.
There’s a loud bang of a door being flung open, and both of you break apart in a rush. You wobble, and he does his best to keep you steady. By the time you stand up straight, the two of you are standing a respectable distance apart, and the door to the hallway swings open. It’s Carlos, first, followed by the rest of the team. You try to compose yourself. Oscar’s face is bright red.
“Bunny!” Charles calls out, eager and bright eyed. “We won!”
Oscar backs away when Charles rushes up to hug you. Nobody comments on his red cheeks, or the poster sitting at your feet. You’re sure they’d teased him about it, but they won the game, so anything that got them there is seen as a good thing. Max is the next one to wrap you up in a hug, and soon you’re being pulled along in the stream of hockey players, out towards where the rest of their friends and families wait, out towards the walk back to the house where the party will already be in motion.
“Your face paint is smudged,” Lando says, pointing at your cheek.
You laugh and brush Lando’s hand away from your face. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Oscar wipe his thumb on his pants, as discreetly as possible, and your heart flutters in your chest. There’s a blue streak of paint left behind on the fabric. It’s some sort of evidence that it really happened. It’s enough, for now.
Later that night, when you’re falling asleep in Lando’s room after a long night of celebrating, you think of deep blue bruises and bright blue face paint, and how much you wish you’d gotten the chance to mix them both together. It would look nice, you think, as you drift off. Paint smudged on his rosy, freckled cheeks. It would’ve been nice.
You dream of Oscar. You’re definitely not complaining.
a/n: happy oscar’s birthday to all who celebrate! 🥳
the one where ollie lives alone (cl.16 x bearman!reader)
pairing: mainly ollie bearman x oldersister!reader for this part but there's a plenty of charles leclerc x bearman!reader here and there!
word count: 4.2k
warnings: a whole lot of stupidity mentions of death, seemingly angsty in some parts (you'll see what I mean)
this might be one of my favourite parts I've written for any series ever 😭 it's so dumb but so funny (according to the people who proofread for me!) as always let me know what you think! your comments are always appreciated.
happy reading!
mimi 🤍
taglist: @arieslost @iamapersonwholikesunicorns
“Jesus Y/N, what the hell is in here?” Ollie wheezed as he staggered past you, arms straining under the weight of the box he was carrying. You rolled your eyes,
“You’re so dramatic Ols, it’s literally just makeup.”
“Is that the last box ma belle?” You turned and saw Charles in the doorway, staring at you fondly.
“Mhmm! Everything else is in the van.” You held your arms out to him and he crossed the room, pulling you in by your waist and kissing you softly,
“I can’t believe you’re finally coming home with me…” You smiled, looping your arms round his neck,
“Me either,” He booped your nose with his own, a loud cough making the two of you jump apart as Ollie leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised,
“Are you two done being gross?”
“Shut up dummy.” You punched his arm as you walked past him towards the front door. You inhaled deeply, it felt strange but exciting to be moving out and into Charles’ apartment.
Behind you, Charles watched Ollie stare at you, looking like he wanted to say something. He quietly padded up behind the younger driver and nudged his arm,
“Are you going to miss her?” Ollie was startled but quickly scoffed,
“Hmm? No way!” Charles gave him a pointed look, “I get the whole place to myself! I can’t wait!” Charles gave him a smile and punched his arm gently,
“We’re only ten minutes away if you need us.” Ollie laughed,
“Thanks but I can manage!”
♯ incident 1 - the dishwasher ⊹.∿
As it turned out, Ollie could in fact, not manage. Mere hours after you’d left him, you found yourself sprinting back up the stairs, cursing the old apartment building for still not having an elevator. You reached the floor of your old apartment and checked the door to see if it was open, turning the handle and entering you called out,
“Ollie? I got your text!” You poked your head into each room as you went, searching for him, “What’s the emer…gen…cy…” You trailed off as you reached the kitchen, Ollie staring up at you with wide eyes, crouching next to the dishwasher that was… pouring out soapy bubbles?
“Ollie!”
“I think I made a mistake.” He said dryly, suspiciously poking some of the bubbly foam next to his shoulder,
“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” You said sarcastically, thinking of a solution, “You put dish soap in didn’t you?” He nodded sheepishly,
“There were no dishwasher tablets left so I just… thought on my feet?” You facepalmed and sighed,
“Okay well, we need to- DON’T OPEN IT!”
You looked on in horror as Ollie pulled open the door and a torrent of soapy warm foam spilled out and all over the kitchen floor, creeping further into the centre of the room, was it… growing? You looked over at your brother to see him staring back at you with comically wide eyes.
“So that’s why we don’t do that.” You said, face deadpan. Ollie giggled nervously,
“Oops?” A snort from behind you had you turning round to see Charles filming the whole thing,
“Oh some help you are babe.” Charles coughed to cover up his laughter as he put his phone away and entered the foamy bubbly monstrosity that was now the kitchen.
“Somewhere under here there’s a bucket and mop.”
“Ollie?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going in.”
♯ incident 2 - french toast ⊹.∿
A few days had passed since the dishwasher incident and you dozed in Charles’ arms, enjoying the lazy Sunday morning sun slipping through the bedroom curtains. The previous night’s activities had left you a little worn out and with no plans for the day, you had wordlessly agreed that a cosy day in bed was just what you needed. A shrill sound pierced the air and jolted both you and Charles awake. You scrambled to find your phone, as Charles groaned, hands rubbing his face as your hand came up to feel how quickly your heart was pounding. You glanced at the screen as your hand met your phone and you scowled, Charles rubbing your back and doing his best not to laugh as he saw who was calling you,
“Ollie Bearman, you better have a damn good reason for calling me this early on a Sunday morning.” There was a pause,
“It’s eleven o’clock?-”
“That’s not the point!” You sighed, “What do you need?”
“Well, you see… I have a question.”
“Go ahead,”
“So I was making french toast right? And I followed the recipe exactly as you wrote it out! Right amount of eggs, milk and sugar.”
“So what’s the issue?” Ollie sighed,
“It won’t cook but it smells a bit smokey…” You pinched the bridge of your nose,
“Then turn it down?”
“I don’t know how!”
“Turn the hob dial down dummy!” Ollie went silent for a second,
“Did you say hob dial?” Alarm bells started ringing in your head, “Why would I adjust the hob when I’m using the toaster.” You froze for a moment before pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker, unable to believe what you were hearing,
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Charles gave you a concerned look, sitting even closer to you and wrapping one arm around you while the other rubbed your knee comfortingly
“I said, I’m using the toaster.” You stared at your phone, mouth slightly agape,
“You’re making french toast in the toaster?”
“Correct.” Charles snorted and choked back a huge guffaw of laughter as the hand he’d placed on your knee came up to cover his mouth, his face turning pink with how hard he was laughing,
“Ollie! French toast isn’t made in the toaster!”
“It’s called french toast!” You pressed the video button and changed the call to facetime. Your brother stared back at you, looking rather dishevelled, “That’s a rather deceiving name if you ask me!” You groaned, facepalming,
“You make it in a frying pan” Charles was no help next to you as he wheezed silently, grabbing his own phone to record the conversation for later use and hilarity.
“Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Ollie was indignant as he pleaded with you through the screen,
“OLLIE! You’ve watched me make it hundreds of times!” He pouted through the screen letting out a little ‘hmmph’
“Well if you hadn’t abandoned me, we wouldn’t have this issue would we!” You rolled your eyes,
“For the last time, I did not abandon you! I live a 10 minute walk away!”
You sighed before laughing at your brother lovingly, “Alright then silly, head over for lunch and I’ll show you how to make french toast the proper way.” Charles snorted once more and you both burst into giggles as your brother scowled at you,
“Stop laughing at me!” Ollie whined, you caught your breath and wiped your eyes, heart warm at the silly moment you knew would turn into a fond memory,
“Uhhhh Y/N?” You looked back at the screen to where Ollie was turning the camera round to show you a sparking, smoking toaster, “I don’t think it should be doing that…” You cursed as Charles scrambled out of bed, pulling mismatching socks on as you grabbed a hoodie,
“Change of plans Ols, we’re on our way!”
♯ incident 3 - Gerald ⊹.∿
Things were peaceful for a couple of days after the french toast debacle - something you were more than thankful for, wrapped up in your perfect little bubble with Charles. Of course you continued to text Ollie, but there had been no major crisis that required your immediate attention. Until there was.
It had been one of those long lazy days spent at home, until Charles had announced he was taking you to dinner and told you to get all dressed up. You’d slipped on one of his favourite numbers and he’d shown his appreciation more than once, sliding his hands round your hips and squeezing while you waited to be seated, pulling your chair out for you to sit down and sliding his hands down your arms once you were seated, moving his chair round the table to sit closer to you so he could place a slow smooch against your neck. You hummed happily as he fed you a mouthful of his dish,
“I knew you’d like it!” You smiled at him,
“I like most things you suggest…” He bit his lip as his eyes darkened slightly,
“Is that so?” You nodded, eyelashes fluttering as your lids close, “What if I suggested something a little… more intimate?” You giggled, picking up your wine glass to take a sip and hide your face, too shy to keep the eye contact,
“I wouldn’t mi-” Your phone blaring cut you off and you gasped, rushing to put your glass down as other customers in the restaurant glared at you, Charles chuckling quietly next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and rubbing soothingly.
“Ollie I swear to go-”
“He’s dead.” You heard your little brother sniffle and adrenaline kicked in,
“Ollie, who’s dead?” You kept your voice as calm and quiet as possible, you heard him sniffle once more before a sob left his mouth. That was all you needed to hear before you were grabbing your clutch and nodding towards the door. Charles tilted his head and you mouthed your brother’s name. He nodded understandingly and rushed to pay the bill before you were both scurrying back to his car. As soon as you were buckled in you put your phone on speaker,
“Ollie… Honey… what happened?” Charles also looked panicked as he heard Ollie’s choked sob,
“He was fine and then he just… wasn’t.”
“Who Ollie, who’s not fine?” You pleaded,
“Ge-” You cursed as the call cut out,
“It’s okay ma belle, his phone probably just died, we’re almost there okay?” You nodded, hands nervously twisting and wringing together in your lap. Charles eyes darted to your hands for a second before looking back at the road, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gently hold your hand in his. You looked at him and squeezed, a wordless thank you.
As soon as Charles pulled up, you were racing out of the car, slipping your heels off and carrying them in your hand as you sprinted barefoot up the stairs of the apartment building. You reached the door and rang the bell, knocked, called his name, anything you could think of to attract his attention. The door opened slowly and it wasn’t Ollie that appeared but Arthuer Leclerc, looking ever so sombre,
“Arthur?” Your eyes were panicked as you looked him over for any injuries or obvious isses. He simply held his hand out to indicate to you to enter and you slowly stepped through the door,
“Where’s Ollie?” Arthur nodded, head down towards the ground and the panic rose in your chest again,
“He’s in the living room, saying his goodbyes.”
“Goodbyes to who?” You paced down the hallway and burst into the living room, your jaw dropping at the sight you saw.
Ollie stood in front of the coffee table that was lit with candles, dressed in a suit and your brain suddenly registered that Arthur had been dressed the same way. You were even more concerned when you saw Arthur’s girlfriend fully dressed in black, standing next to Ollie with a comforting hand on his shoulder. You approached him slowly, arms opening and your expression softening as he turned to you with a red splotchy nose and red-rimmed eyes, he fell into your arms and you patted his back, gently shushing him,
“What happened, Ols?”
“He’s gone.” Ollie croaked out,
“Who’s gone honey?” Your voice was gentle as you stroked his hair, the same way you did when he was younger and couldn’t sleep,
“Gerald.”
“Oh.” You said softly, “Was he a friend?” Ollie nodded and you held back a wince as he rubbed his snotty nose onto your shoulder, knowing he needed you,
“He was such a good friend.” You led him over to the couch and sat down, his head falling onto your shoulder as you continued to play with his hair.
You were aware of Charles appearing in the doorway and you gave him a brief smile, before turning your attention back to Ollie,
“Would I know this friend?” Ollie nodded, his sobs quieting to sniffles,
“You were his friend before I was.” Your stomach dropped as you frantically thought of who Ollie could possibly be referring to, feeling guilty that your mind was blank,
“The funeral was lovely.” Arthur’s girlfriend nodded solemnly, a hand over her heart as the other hand came up to dab her eyes with a tissue,
“The funeral has already happened?” You were confused as Arthur nodded,
“Just before you got here.” Your eyes shot to Charles who was just as concerned and confused as you,
“Wait, the funeral was here?” Ollie scoffed,
“Well where else would it have been?”
“Wait Ollie,” You held his face in front of yours,
“Why was the funeral in your apartment?”
“He wanted to be remembered in the place he was most happy…” Ollie sighed wistfully, his head turning to look at the coffee table once more.
You squinted, focusing on a shape amidst the flickering candles and once more your mouth gaped as you stood up and stormed over to the other side of the room.
“Ollie. Bearman.” You gritted your teeth, “Don’t tell me that this was all about a fucking cactus?”
“Succulent!” Ollie snapped at you, wiping away a tear from under his eye, “He was a succulent,” He whispered as he looked down at the floor. Charles broke first, snorting in the doorway and you watched as he did his best to choke down his laughter, coughing and shaking his head, you watched as he excused himself from the room for a moment to force a solemn expression back onto his face. He returned but you could see the laughter threatening to bubble over as he took in the sight before him. Ollie, his younger brother and his younger brother’s girlfriend all dressed in black and in mourning for a succulent that sat sadly on the coffee table and looked like it had been watered a little too much.
“I’m glad you got here,” Arthur spoke up suddenly,
“Oh goodie, do tell me why.” Your tone was sarcastic.
“We’re about to do the funeral exit.” Charles was holding in his laughter so much that he now had tears streaming down his face and Arthur patted his back with a ‘there, there’ and handed him a tissue.
“Arthur’s girlfriend has agreed to sing the exit song and we’re so thankful she has.”
“Who is we Ollie?” You brow furrowed as you looked around the living room, “I-I…” You sighed. “Go ahead.” You all stood still, heads to the floor as Arthur’s girlfriend launched into a rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats,
“Miiiiiiidniiiiiight, not a sound from the paaaaavemeeeent.” Charles quietly crossed the room to stand next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder,
“Interesting date night hmm?” You growled,
“Don’t you dare encourage him.” Ollie approached you,
“Do you want to say your final goodbyes?”
“Ollie, why would I care about a succulent?” He gasped,
“It’s Gerald!” “Yes Ollie so you said, but why would I care that it’s name is Gerald?” Ollie shook his head,
“Don’t even recognise your own friend…” Arthur tutted and even his girlfriend gave you a disapproving look as she continued wailing in the background, you mentally made a note to apologise to the neighbours the next time you were here during normal sociable hours.
You rolled your eyes at your younger brother and stepped forward to ‘pay your respects’ to the succulent. Your eyes narrowed,
“Oliver. James. Bearman. That’s MY fucking succulent!”
“It was nice of you to wear black.” He continued, nodding towards your dress and Charles blazer and pants, ignoring your exclamation.
“We were on a date!” You screeched, Charles once again powerless to help in any way, instead just collapsing with laughter. You growled as you lunged for your brother, “Ollie, I swear there will be a funeral tonight.” You hissed, “Yours!”
♯ incident 4 - spiderman ⊹.∿
After everyone had said their goodbyes to Gerald, he had been unceremoniously dumped into the rubbish bin and that had been the end of it. Ollie had promised to buy you a new succulent and had learned that they did not, in fact, require watering every day, and you now forever had ‘Memory’ stuck in your head. Once more, peace had been restored but you doubted it would last much longer.
Your theory was proved correct when a few days later, your phone rang. An unknown number. You ignored it at first, all too aware of strange reporters and crazy fans who would do anything to get closer to Charles. You simply went back to reading your book, until your phone rang again. It was an unknown number still and you grumbled, rolling your eyes and answering quite snappily,
“Yes? Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seemed almost taken aback,
“Umm excuse me is this Y/N Bearman?” You sighed,
“Yes it is, no I won’t give you a quote and yes Charles is great in bed, goodbye!-”
“No wait please! I’m from downstairs! You live in 10B yes?” You stopped as your finger hovered over the end call button and brought the phone back up to your ear,
“Uhhhh I used to, yes, can I ask why?”
“Oh, well there’s a man trying to climb onto your balcony and I was concerned that’s all.” Your stomach flipped, your mind rushing to thoughts of someone breaking in when your little brother was home alone,
“I’ll come over now! My younger brother still lives there.” You raced to grab your keys and jumped into your car, deciding to get there as soon as possible rather than walk. Who was stupid enough to break in in broad daylight? You briefly considered calling the police but you were sure the idiot would be gone by the time you got there.
Your car pulled up and you craned your neck to look up at the balcony of your old apartment. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted that there was indeed a man hanging off of your balcony,
“Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrabbling to open the door and race towards the apartment complex. The closer you got you squinted as you realised the hoodie looked ever so familiar.
“Ollie?!” You yelled up and shrieked as your brother looked down at you, giggling nervously as his feet kicked back and forth as he desperately searched for a footing,
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“Uhhh I can explain!” He yelled back to you,
“H-hold on, I’m on my way up!” You hurried up the stairs, once more cursing the lack of elevator as you finally reached your floor, unlocking the door and rushing through the apartment to french doors out onto the balcony.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” You screeched, leaning over the balcony and diving to grab him and pull him up, “Ollie that’s so fucking dangerous!”
“Look!” You heard a kid shout from the street below, “It’s Spiderman!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes,
"He wishes!" You paused for a moment to yell back, before resuming hauling your brother over the apartment balcony.
“How did you even get up here? Why are you up here?” Ollie chuckled, panting slightly as he finally threw one leg over the ledge,
“Funny story actually…” You raised an eyebrow,
“Well please share,”
“I forgot my key…”
“I-” In your shock you almost let go of him and his scream attracted the attention of yet more passers by below, laughing and pointing at the odd sight they were witnessing. You smiled down awkwardly before turning back to Ollie once more,
“Why didn’t you call me?” Ollie whined as you began to tell him off,
“Because I didn’t want you to find out…”
“Oh so this was a better idea- Ah!” You squeaked as Ollie tumbled over the ledge and onto the balcony. Landing on your stomach in a tangle of limbs,
“Your foot is up my butt!”
“Yeah well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been being stupid! Anyway, get your elbow out of my eye!”
“Oh I’m sorry, I was making sure I wasn’t about to fall to my death!” You shoved Ollie off of you and led there on your back, panting, Ollie much the same,
“For the record, you are the shittiest spiderman there is.”
“Thanks, that’s really boosting my confidence.”
“Glad I could help.”
♯ the resolution ⊹.∿
“We need more protection.” You announced loudly, stepping into the kitchen
“Excuse me?!” Charles choked on his protein shake, cheeks turning pink and you heard Max snort on the phone,
“God, no! You pervs… I meant like, we need protection from Ollie and his dumbass incidents.” Max cackled,
“Charles has sent me the videos, I was dying at the dishwasher incident.” You groaned, crossing the room to stand next to Charles who sat at the breakfast bar. He grinned as you rolled your eyes at Max who you could now see was on facetime.
“Yeah, well I’m turning grey way sooner than I should!” You joked. You chatted with Max a little longer before Charles signed off with the promise of joining him to game later.
You sighed, leaning against Charles’ side,
“What’s wrong ma belle?” You took another breath and paused,
“I’m just… worried about Ollie…” Charles put his arm around you and rubbed your back soothingly,
“What has you so worried mon amour?” His expression was warm and you knew he wasn’t angry with you, rather genuinely curious,
“I just feel like… maybe he isn’t ready to live on his own yet?” Charles nodded at you and you took that as a signal to continue, “I mean, he’s always had me there to help him and I know someday he’s gonna have to get used to me not being there but I just feel like right now…” You trailed off with a sigh,
“He still needs you.” Charles finished and you gave him a grateful smile and nodded.
“But, I don’t wanna leave you. I love living with you and having you around and I love just... living life with you. Am I selfish for not wanting to give that up?” You bit your lip, moving away from Charles to pace the kitchen floor. Charles shook his head with a fond smile,
“Ma belle… You’re not selfish for wanting to do something for yourself and I’m proud of you for wanting to pursue that, especially since it’s me you want,” he slid his arms around you as you stepped next to him and dragged you backwards to him, making you giggle, “but I also know that you want to be there for family and I can understand that, you guys are close, the same way that me and Thur are, probably even closer.” You hummed, leaning back against him,
“Thank you for being so understanding.” You sighed, “Now I just need to work out how to fix it…” Charles smiled and turned you round in his arms, nudging your nose with his,
“Well… we have a spare room?”
Which is how you found yourself hauling boxes upstairs a week later,
“Jesus Ollie, what the hell is in here?” You wheezed out and Ollie simply smiled at you, patting you on the head as he walked past you, arms empty,
“You’re so dramatic Y/N, it’s literally just a few bits.” You poked your tongue out at him as he mimicked your words from just a couple of months ago.
“Is that it mate?” Charles head appeared from behind the apartment door and Ollie nodded, as you finally conquered the stairs and planted the box down on the hallway floor.
“Now let’s go over the rules one more time Ols.” He sighed,
“Fine…”
“Rule one?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow,
“No dish soap in the dishwasher…” He grumbled, Charles chuckled,
“Rule two?”
“No cooking without supervision.” Ollie recited as you nodded,
“Don’t worry, that rule applies to Charles too.”
“Huh?!”
“Shush baby, rule three?” You turned back to Ollie,
“No watering the succulents unless instructed, no matter how sorry I feel for them.” You nodded,
“I am not having a repeat of Gerald and the… funeral.” You shuddered, as Charles snorted before asking,
“Rule four?”
“Always call one of you two if I forget my keys…”
“And?” You raised an eyebrow,
“No climbing balconies under any circumstances.”
You clapped your hands together and smiled,
“Good! Well I can’t think of anything else, can you?”
You turned to Charles who shook his head and Ollie who just shrugged,
“In that case, let’s go! Pizza for dinner sound good?” The three of you walked into the apartment and the door to the hallway swung shut, your arguments about pizza toppings muffled through the door, but the happiness and love you felt for each other not dulled in the slightest.
hello loves!
and welcome to the masterlist for the bear hugs au! I'm so so excited to finally be launching this officially as part of my celebration for 1k followers! you guys loved the original fic so much and have asked for part 2 and more so I decided to launch it as a full series. as always, please let me know what you think!
happy reading!
love mimi 🤍
thank you to @arieslost and @thebearchives for beta reading and helping me brainstorm ideas!
and thank you to @scuderiahoney for teaching me how to make the collage headers!
taglist : @alessioayla @iamapersonwholikesunicorns @weekendlusting
if you'd like to be added either comment on this masterlist post or send me an ask!
SYNOPSIS:
step into the world of you and ollie bearman and your boyfriend charles leclerc. a selection of longer fics and shorter drabbles with a sprinkling of social media chapters. not written or posted in chronological order! warnings will be posted for each individual part
˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚ ˚ʚ🧸ɞ˚
1. love you to the end of the line 𐙚
how ollie's and your pre-race ritual began
2. celebrity crush 𐙚
ollie learns about your crush on charles leclerc
3. season highlights 𓇼
your post for ollie after the f2 season (referenced in the original fic)
4. bear hugs (the original fic) - the one where they meet ✧
you join your brother Ollie at his first F1 race and bump into Charles
5. the one with their first date ✧
you're extremely nervous for your first date with charles. ollie plays his brother role very well and tells charles exactly what he expects of him
6. these comments are crazy 𓇼
ollie can't stand watching you and charles flirt in his comments
7. the one where they all go racing ✧
your first race weekend as a couple with charles! ft. ollie and his annoying commentary
8. the one where he should have knocked ✧ ☁︎
ollie learns he needs to knock and you learn you needs to lock the door
9. happy birthday to you 𓇼
charles and ollie's posts to you on your birthday (ft. arthur leclerc and other drivers)
10. the one where ollie lives alone ✧
four times ollie learns that he needs your help and the one time you decide enough is enough
11. *gasp* they were teammates?! 𐙚
ollie gets the call from ferrari for 2025 and now you don't know whose number to wear on race weekends
12. we may as well be parents 𐙚
arthur and ollie come to stay and you and charles feel like you're playing mom and dad to two toddlers
13. hey now, this is what dreams are made of 𐙚
you finally get to follow your dreams and ollie finally lets go
14. the prank war 𓇼
it's the bearmans vs the leclercs... who will win?
15. the one where with the ring ✧
charles asks ollie for his blessing and ollie helps charles plan a surprise you'll love. (ollie learns he’s surprisingly good at hiding and camouflage)
16. bear meet world, world meet bear 𓇼
you and charles have a new puppy and his name is... not exactly original
17. the one where there's a party ✧
its a big day for you and you're very emotional. ollie reassures you that you'll always be a bearman and puts charles to the test
18. there's a new baby bear in town 𐙚
you and charles tell ollie and arthur your exciting news
everyone who had told you that oscar piastri wasn’t much of a talker was a bold-faced liar.
that, or maybe they just never got to see that side of him.
before you started dating oscar, you totally believed it. the first few interactions the two of you had were awkward and brief, usually ending in you thinking that he actually hated you and only engaged in small talk to be nice.
the oscar you know now is nothing like the oscar you first met, and even though you’ve been with him for the better part of two years, his ability to talk for hours is still as shocking to you as it was in the beginning.
it started out innocently enough. the first time you hadn’t been able to attend a race, oscar called you the moment he was back in his hotel room. you’d only been dating for five months at that point, and you vividly remember your shock when you accepted the facetime call and he started talking at a mile a minute. you’d barely gotten out a “hello” before he started recapping his entire day in precise detail. he didn’t even stop to take a drink of water in his enthusiasm.
that turned into the two of you developing a routine. every time you couldn’t make it to a race, oscar would call you at the end of the day and tell you everything he’d been dying to tell you.
“you could text me some of this stuff, you know,” you told him once, and he had wrinkled his nose cutely.
“why would i text it to you when i can just tell you about it on the phone?” he’d responded, like your suggestion was completely outlandish.
it’s endearing, really, the way he’s always so excited every time you pick up the phone. like he is right now.
“hi, honey!” he says brightly the moment the call connects and you can see each other’s faces.
“hey, oz,” you smile, your mood immediately lifting at the sound of his voice. “how was your day?”
“oh, i have so much to tell you,” he leans forward, his hair obscuring the camera for a moment before he leans back with a piece of paper in his hand.
“what is that?” you ask, watching as he unfolds it.
“this, my love, is my list.” he says, turning it around so you can see the way the page is full of his writing, not only on the lines but in the margins, too. “if i can read my own handwriting.”
“busy day?” you pull the hood of your sweatshirt further over your head so it covers more of your screen.
“you have no idea. i don’t even know where to start.” he sighs, eyes scanning the paper before he looks back up at the camera. “but i want to hear about your day first.”
“ah, it was okay. boring. i got so used to traveling around with you that i don’t know what to do now that i’m home all by myself.” it’s a lie, of course.
you wouldn’t miss oscar’s birthday for the world, and that was why you’d been so believable when you told him that you were so sorry, but you couldn’t make it to japan for the next race. even thinking about not being with him for his birthday was enough to upset you, so he bought it easily. conspiring with mark and lando, you’d gotten your hands on a plane ticket and formed a plan to get to the hotel with oscar being none the wiser.
which is how you’re here, at the end of the hallway on his hotel floor, waiting for the perfect time to interject.
“oh, i have to tell you about how free practice went, the second session, not the first,” he’s saying, squinting a little at the paper. “i wrote it over something else and i can’t see what it says. whatever. anyway, it’s raining here, and, like, half the cars didn’t end up going out for the second session. i was just trying to do my best for the session but i ended up setting the fastest lap! i didn’t even know until i got out of the car. did you watch? i don’t know if you did, i forgot to ask you, but i think it was a 1:34 or something like that. i could’ve been faster, obviously, but it was raining. its still raining right now actually which kind of sucks. i wouldn’t mind if you were here, but it’s just miserable and cold.” he pauses to take a breath. “wait, where are you?”
well that you weren’t expecting. “at home… where else would i be?” you reply, hoping that your confusion looks genuine.
“your background looks… i dunno.” he presses his lips together. “doesn’t look the same.”
“well, i’m at home,” you repeat, trying to come up with something on the fly. “pretending that i’m talking to you face to face instead of through the phone, like always.”
“ah, yeah. i do that all the time,” he admits, giving up on his scrutinization of what little he can see behind your hood.
“i miss you,” he says then, and its absolute hell knowing you can’t knock on his door just yet.
“i miss you too, oz.” you whisper. “keep telling me about your day?”
“sure, honey.” he gives you a soft smile, once again consulting his piece of paper. “so after the second session, i went and got dinner— oh wait, i forgot to tell you what happened earlier! i left the hotel room—”
you were hoping to let him tire himself out a bit from talking so much before approaching the door, but with every little detail of his day he shares you wish more and more that he was saying it directly to you and not through the phone, so you give up on being patient and knock three times.
“hold on, baby. someone’s at the door.” he says on the other end of the call, getting up from where he’s sitting on the bed and leaving his phone behind, so you end the call to free both of your hands.
the look on his face when he opens the door is priceless. “you’re joking.”
“i figured you should tell me the rest in person,” you say. “besides, i’d be damned if i missed your birthday.”
“you’re joking,” he repeats, pulling you and your suitcase into the room and wrapping you into a tight hug. “you’re actually here.”
“of course i’m here.” you laugh, kissing his shoulder through the loose material of his worn out t-shirt. “i don’t want to be anywhere else but here.”
“i’m so happy,” is all your enthusiastic, talkative boyfriend says before kissing you, smiling against your lips the whole time.
“you hung up on me?” its the first thing he says once the two of you are cuddled up in bed, and your jaw drops.
“seriously? i’m right here, and you’re gonna come for me for hanging up on you?”
“i would never hang up on you, but whatever,” he rolls his eyes, but cuddles you closer all the same. “okay, you have to know what lando told me last night about this one thing he did over winter break. it doesn’t sound bad at first, but i promise you it gets so much worse.”
you sigh in content, happier than anything to be in oscar’s arms and listening to him talk your ear off for the foreseeable future. you would never lie about it— you don’t want to be anywhere else but here, with him.
note: happy oscar dayyy!! wishing my fellow aries the best birthday ever and i hope you all enjoyed this 🫶🏼 i low key hate it but hopefully that’s just me lolz
my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!
I’m such an angst girly omg how about lando’s phone not working and reader gets sad he’s not replying or answering her calls for a few days🤨
pairing: lando norris x reader
word count: 1.2k
warnings: angst, allusions to a panic attack, reader is v emotional, lando is an idiot
ahhhh tysm for sending this in! It was fun to write but ofc I had to make it fluffy to end bc I didn't wanna make myself too sad
happy reading!
love mimi 🤍
Long distance relationships were hard, you knew that before you’d even started dating Lando. You’d heard all of the stories before but like the many innocent others who had yet to experience their partner being on the other side of the world, you were determined that everything would be okay.
Now, as you thought back to how naive you’d been, you scoffed, how could you have thought it would be so simple? If you weren’t battling with time zones, you were battling to find free time, and if you found free time, it was never quiet and peaceful and it never lasted more than a few minutes. You knew you should have been satisfied with those snatched moments you did get, but you missed your boyfriend.
You missed him even more when he got another podium and you weren’t there to celebrate with him. You’d stayed up until stupid o’clock to watch the race live and you’d cheered and jumped as your boyfriend performed overtake after overtake to move up the grid to claim second place. You knew that once he had done his post-race interviews and meetings he would call you. You sighed as once more Lando’s contact picture flashed up with ‘facetime unavailable’. You’d scheduled this call the night before but he was only a few minutes late. You shook your head as you took a deep breath, he was probably just finishing up in meetings. Half an hour went by and your stomach twisted with worry as you still hadn’t heard from him. You checked your phone but there were no new notifications - not from him at least anyway.
You curled up on the couch, noticing Lando’s hoodie still resting over the arm of the couch. Pulling it towards you, you nuzzled your face into it and inhaled, the smell of his cologne washing over you. You felt tears well up in your eyes. No matter how busy or tired he was, he had never once missed your call. You grew angry, not with Lando, never with Lando, but just at the situation.
You huffed and grabbed your phone once more, deciding to doom scroll through instagram until Lando finally called. You noticed that a few people had posted new stories and so you pressed on the first one, absentmindedly tapping your screen until you paused, sitting up quickly as you realised the story you were looking at was Max Fewtrell’s. He’d posted a video in the club at a post-race party. You normally wouldn’t have batted an eyelid, but you could have sworn in the back corner of the dimly-lit club video was a figure that looked suspiciously like Lando. Going back to the start of his story and scrolling through again you realised it was Lando, wearing the black shirt you’d given him for his birthday the previous year.
Turns out you could be mad at Lando. Something uncomfortable and hot flashed in your stomach as nausea hit you. Anger curled its way up your spine and through your chest, tightening around your lungs and making it hard to breathe. He was out at a club? And that’s why he hadn’t called you? You growled and glared at your screen, thumbs jabbing into the keyboard as you furiously typed a message to Max. He was online, you noted, as you hit ‘send’ and waited for him to read it. You barely had to wait five minutes before Max was apologising profusely and sending you a long paragraph about how he was sure Lando had texted you and would be letting him know straight away. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, throwing your phone down on the couch next to you with a ‘hmmph’.
You sat in silence for a while, your emotions slowly welling up as tears gathered on your lash line. Was this how your relationship was going to end? Long nights alone while Lando partied it up on the other side of the world? Surrounded by scores of choices of pretty women and an endless supply of alcohol? You couldn’t help the way you sobbed as you grabbed his hoodie once more, desperately trying to catch your breath. You were crying so hard you almost didn’t hear the way your phone vibrated on the cushion. You gasped for air as you picked it up and turned it over, Max’s name flashing on the screen. You snatched your phone up and pressed the green button to accept, not even registering that it was a facetime call and he was going to see you crying.
You inhaled sharply as it was Lando’s worried face that appeared on the screen, he looked panicked and you could hear the music thumping in the background although slightly muffled. Despite the fluorescent lights he was standing under, he still looked good,
“Baby? Oh my god…” He took in your tear stained cheeks and the way your eyes were red. He noted your sniffling noises and the way your bottom lip trembled, “Love I’m so so sorry!” You let out a laugh and rolled your eyes, trying to not let him see the next wave of tears that were threatening to fall,
“Sure.” He sighed,
“Honey, I promise you, I didn't mean it. I did text you! I didn’t realise it didn’t go through because I was in the post-race meeting!”
“I wanted to celebrate your win with you!” Lando gently shushed you as he saw your chest heave, your breathing quickening once more,
“Baby, baby, shh sh sh it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m right here.” He looked off screen for a moment to a person you assumed to be Max before the music got louder again and then quiet, as if Max had left Lando alone. You followed along with his breathing as he over exaggerated for you to copy.
“Love I promise you it was just an accident okay? I texted you to ask if you were ready to call but when there was no reply I assumed you’d fallen asleep so then I texted you to ask if you could be at the airport for 4am…” He winced, “I decided to fly home early and have a few days with you before the next race.” You melted back against the couch, hugging his hoodie to your chest as you tucked your knees up under your chin and rested your phone there,
“4am?” You sniffled with a giggle,
“Is that my hoodie?” He said, doing his best to distract you and you let out a proper giggle this time,
“Lando! 4am is so early!” He laughed, relieved to see you feeling better,
“I figured we could go for a super early breakfast and then go home and fall asleep together, in our bed, in our apartment which is my favourite place to be, with my love. Your bottom lip wobbled once more,
“You promise?” He nodded to assure you,
“I promise.” You inhaled deeply and let out an exhale with a sigh,
“I can’t wait to see you,” your thumb gently rubbed across his cheek even through the screen.
“I can’t wait to see you either love, can’t wait to be home”
oh dear... it would appear I am in the mood to write something angsty... 🧍♀️ y'all better take advantage of this quick because it's a rare occurrence!
send me some angsty requests! can end angsty or fluffy idm! 🥹
