synopsis — remus returns from his first date with you, a slytherin girl, and has to face his friends’ teasing in the common room.
fluff
remus entered the gryffindor common room.
he felt his heart beating harder than usual and his nose and cheeks were flushed from the cold air—and perhaps something more. the fire crackled softly in the hearth. before going in, remus knew the common room won't be empty. his friends had been insufferably annoying all week about this day and remus had a feeling they’d been waiting for him to return.
and sure enough, they were there. sirius lounged across the armchair closest to the fire, his legs draped over one arm and his head resting against the other. james was seated on the couch, reading a copy of quidditch weekly, while lily was resting against his body, with her head on his chest. peter was lying on the floor talking to her.
—moony's back! —peter announced. not even a second after remus set a foot into the common room. the moment those words left peter’s mouth, james, lily and sirius jumped from their seats.
—oh he's cheeks are more red than his gryffindor scarf!
remus touched them with the back of his hand as he took off his coat and scarf and left them hanging on a chair. —it's because of the snow outside.
—yeah, sure it's not because of that slytherin girl.
—did she kissed you? —peter asked straight up.
remus cheeks grew even hotter but he didn't answer to the question.
—you gotta tell us everything, moony! come on!
lily dragged him next to the fireplace and forced him to sit on the rug.
—is it really necessary? —remus asked, dying of embarrassment as he glanced up at his friends, who were eagerly looking back at him. james and sirius went back to sit on the couch, lily and peter were sitting in front of him on the floor.
—of course, it is! —lily said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
—oh, come on, moony, we’re all dying here, we've been waiting all afternoon. we just want to know how the date of the century went.
remus rolled his eyes at sirius words.
james decided that it was his time to join sirius' teasing. —yeah, and with a slytherin girl, no less. did she try to hex you? or, i dunno, bite you?
—good question, prongs. did she call you a blood traitor between compliments?
lily let out a dramatic sigh, giving them a sharp look. —you two are absolutely insufferable, —she said and turned back to remus, her voice softening. —don’t listen to them. they’re just jealous you had an actual date.
—she didn’t hex me, bite me, or called me a blood traitor, alright? she was perfectly nice and we had a great time —. remus stated. james and sirius huffed a laugh.
—a great time is suspiciously vague. care to elaborate?
remus played with his hands, the heat coming back to his cheeks when he started to remember everything.
—did she like the flowers, remus? —peter asked with excitement.
remus stood at the door of the castle, waiting for you. every time he looked at the bouquet in his hands, the wildflowers he carefully picked himself, he felt a little ridiculous. maybe it was too much for a first date. what if you thought it was silly? or worse, what if you didn’t like flowers at all? what if you were allergic to flowers?
—flowers, moony? bold move. what’s next, planning the wedding?
he shouldn't have told james and sirius. they spent the whole morning teasing him, and now their words were stuck on repeat in his mind. but peter told him it was a good idea, you were always so focused in herbology so you'd most likely loved them. in the middle of all the overthinking, remus heard the soft sound of footsteps on stone. he looked up, and there you were, walking down the stair with a shy but bright smile.
your heart beat faster after seeing remus and you had to focus on the stairs, the last thing you wanted was to trip and make a fool of yourself in front of him. still, you only could think about how sweet he looked, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
—hi —you said, your voice a little breathless but smiling.
—hi —he replied. remus held out the bouquet. —these are for you. i thought you might like them.
your eyes fell to the flowers. it was a careful mix of pinks, yellows and whites. the gesture made your chest ache in the best way because you know that he picked them himself for you. —they’re beautiful, —you said, your fingers brushing his as you took them. —thank you, remus. i love them.
—yes! i knew she'd love them —. peter said, triumphant.
—tell us, moony, did you hold her hand?
—padfoot, the audacity! —james gasped dramatically. —you held her hand on the first date, moony? i don't know who you are anymore!
remus rolled his eyes while he rubbed his hands, brushing over his thick scars. he tried not to hold your hand, not because he didn’t want to, but because he knew you’d notice the scars. and though he knew you weren’t the kind of person to say anything unkind, the thought of you touching them, of you asking about them, made his stomach twist.
to avoid falling in the snow, you had hooked your arm in remus'. you were laughing, your boots crunching through the snow, the conversation had flowed easily as always happened between you two. you were so comfortable in his presence that you didn't even realize that your hand began to slide down his arm, fingers tracing along the thick fabric of his coat until they slipped into his, curling naturally around his hand.
when you glanced up at him, his cheeks were red but his lips curved into a shy smile. remus didn’t pull away. if anything, his hand tightened around yours.
the scars on his hands didn’t matter to you. you noticed them long ago, during one of those afternoons in the library when the two of you studied together. he was flipping through the pages of a book and you saw them. it wasn’t hard to tell that he was self-conscious about them, he always wore the longest sweaters, ones that hung just past his wrists and sometimes even covered all his hands. that’s why you never asked him about it, except when you noticed some fresh ones, you couldn't help but ask him if he was okay.
—she was the one who held your hand! —james repeated. —moony, i think this girls wants to marry you.
—we’ll start planning the wedding now. peter, you can handle the flowers, moony’s already set the tone with that bouquet.
and they all laughed, even lily, who usually rolled her eyes at sirius and james’s relentless teasing, and remus, who usually found himself the victim of their jokes, couldn’t help but crack a smile.
—but come on, keep telling us!
—well, we walked to hogsmeade and we first visited some bookstores. she loves reading, she was so excited, practically dragging me around the place to show me her favorite sections and i had no complaints, as you can imagine.
james and sirius exchanged a look in disbelief and for once, neither of them could think of something to say. they had never seen their friend remus like this.
it wasn’t that girls hadn’t shown interest in him before, they had. but remus had always been polite, reserved, never letting things go past a conversation about books or classwork. he’d keep his distance, waving them hi in the corridors, showing them shy smiles, remembering their names, listening when they spoke, even sharing his notes if they needed help.
but dating? that had always seemed beyond him. it was complicated, messy, and exposed.
—merlin’s beard, —sirius murmured not wanting to interrupt remus who kept talking about you. sirius glanced at james with wide eyes. —she’s breaking down his walls.
james nodded slowly, an incredulous grin spreading across his face. —and he’s letting her.
the moment you turned the corner, your eyes landed on the familiar wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze, your favorite bookstore. it was small, away from the main street of hogsmeade, often closed when you visited, as if it only opened for those who truly needed it.
you gasped, catching your breath in surprise. —it’s open!
and he didn’t resist, letting you drag him toward the door. remus could immediately see why you liked the store so much, it was cozy, small but inviting, and it smelled like coffee and wood. run by an elderly woman who greeted you both as you entered, she gave you a knowing nod, as though she’d seen your excitement countless times before.
—it's good that you've finally brought your boyfriend here. a handsome gryffindor boy, no less, welcome dear.
remus froze for a split second, his cheeks hot red. —oh, i... um... —he looked at you for help.
you couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, though your own cheeks felt a little warm. —he’s not my... —you started, but the old woman waved you off with a twinkle in her eye.
—no need to explain, dear, you don’t have to tell an old woman what’s plain to see —. she winked at you both before turning back to her counter.
you nudged him playfully. —don’t worry, she says things like that to everyone. probably —remus gave you a skeptical look but couldn’t help smiling as he let you lead him deeper into the shop.
of course, he didn't tell his friends about this, he didn't even want to think about how much james and sirius would tease him.
remus continued talking about you. lily looked at him closely, wanting to know everything he could tell her about you. —she has good taste in books, she recommended me one about history of magic, she says it will make that class more interesting and help me pay more attention.
—that's so sweet of her. she noticed that you zone out during history of magic —. a sweet giggle escaped lily's lips.
remus rubbed the back of his neck. —yeah, i guess it’s not exactly a secret. —he shook his head, he didn't want to talk about history of magic right now, he wanted to keep talking about you. —then we went to the three broomstick.
—let me guess, she ordered something weird, like firewhisky, and you had to pretend to be cool with it?
remus rolled his eyes. —no, sirius. she ordered butterbeer, like a normal person.
—remus, you two seem to be very comfortable around each other —lily said, her tone innocent, but the mischievous twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. —there had to be a kiss.
sirius and james shared a look, they seemed genuinely surprised by lily’s boldness but they didn't say anything because they were more interested in remus' answer. the heat of his cheeks spread all the way up to his ears. james’s eyes widened as he caught remus’s expression. —so there was a kiss! —he exclaimed, pointing a finger at him like he’d just solved a mystery.
—do we really need to talk about this?
—yes! —all four of them said in unison.
you sat across from remus, the soft light from the lanterns of the three broomsticks lightened his face with a soft glow. it caught the silvery scars that lined his cheek, making them shimmer faintly, though he seemed oblivious to it. a single butterbeer sat between you, the two of you had been sharing it. you pointed at the corner of remus’s mouth.
—oh, you have something, —you said, gesturing to the spot.
—where? —he asked, looking confused as he swiped at his mouth.
—no, it’s more to the... —you leaned over the table. —here, let me.
you reached out and used your thumb to gently wipe away the trace of butterbeer at the corner of his lips. the moment leaned in closer, just a few inches apart now, his golden-brown eyes widened slightly, his breath catching as he looked at you. you closed the gap, your lips brushed his in a sweet kiss. remus froze for a moment but then he closed his eyes and melted into it.
when you pulled back, his cheeks were pink, his expression soft as he said —you, um... you missed a spot.
you laughed, your own cheeks warm as you sat back down. —i’ll get it next time.
the room went silent for a beat. peter sat there thinking, confusion spreading across his face. james was the one who broke the silence as he threw his head back, laughing. —that’s brilliant! the old ‘you’ve got something on your face’ trick.
peter was still confused. sirius shook his head. —she’s bold. i like her.
lily was smiling warmly. —i think it’s cute, —she said. —clearly, she’s not afraid to show how she feels.
peter’s eyes widened and he gasped as the realization hit him. —so she kissed you twice! —he exclaimed.
sirius groaned. it was working just fine, they were all surprised that remus had told them about another kiss and not the one they had seen from the common room, but they handled it just fine and knew how to hide it, all except peter. sirius threw one of the pillows at him. —you idiot!
remus frowned, it was true that you kissed him twice but how could peter possibly know that? —you spied on us?!
—spied is a strong word —. james said.
peter lifted his arms defensively, ducking as another pillow came flying his way. —no, not spy! we just… saw you two walking back to the castle. by accident! while we were… uh, checking the weather.
james smirked, leaning back in his seat. —exactly and that second kiss? didn’t think you were that much taller than her, moony, but there she was, standing on her tiptoes in the snow. pretty romantic, actually.
remus was mortified.
you walked arm in arm with remus back to the castle, his presence keeping you warm enough from the cold weather outside. the date went better than you ever could have imagined. remus was charming, thoughtful, and surprisingly funny. every moment with him felt genuine, like the two of you existed in a bubble where nothing else mattered.
as you neared the castle, you found yourself thinking about how you didn't want the evening to end.
you stopped face to face, you had to say goodbye but the words didn't come out of any of yours mouth. you didnt want it to end. remus stood there, his hands awkwardly tucked into the pockets of his coat, his gaze flickering between your face and the ground.
—well... —you both said at the same time.
—see you tomorrow in class.
you nodded. —yeah, see you tomorrow —. your arms wrapped around him in a gentle hug. his arms slowly went around your waist, pulling you in just a little bit closer.
when you pulled back from the hug, the space between you was closer, and you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on your lips. your heart beat faster in your chest, and before either of you could think too much about it, you stood on your tiptoes and closed the distance, pressing your lips to his one more time. remus took his hands out of his pockets to hold your face and yours pressed against his chest.
when you finally pulled away, the smile on remus’s face told you everything you needed to know.
—see you tomorrow, then? —you whispered softly, still a little dazed from the kiss.
he nodded, his smile never fading. —yeah. tomorrow.
—and you should be grateful that i didn't let them use the invisibility cloak —. lily added.
remus groaned, dragging his hands down his face. —grateful? you’ve got to be joking.
lily's expression softened as she leaned forward. —but seriously, remus, it sounds like it was a nice date. it’s good to see you happy.
—yeah, it was great seeing that slytherin trying to suck your soul and you gladly letting her do it.
lily gave sirius a sharp look, but even she couldn't suppress a small smile at his teasing. remus, however, looked like he might die of embarrassment as he buried his face in his hands again.
—i'm so done with this conversation —. remus added as he stood up from the floor. he wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible so that tomorrow he would arrive earlier.
james just grinned. —you can’t stop now, moony. we’ve just started.
[2k] the holidays come and go as you and max celebrate over one month of marriage. the new season is on the horizon, feelings are evolving and charles is still determined to fix the mistakes made in vegas.
series masterlist
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“You know how you love me?”
Pascale paused, wooden spoon hovering just above the pot she had been stirring moments ago. She hadn’t even heard you come into the kitchen, but there you stood in the doorway, an innocent look on your face that she knew well enough not to trust.
“What have you broken?”
Your brows furrowed together. “What makes you think I’ve broken something?”
“You always use that voice when you break something,” Pascale retorted with a knowing look. “Like a vase or a picture frame or Arthur’s nose—”
“First of all, he broke it himself,” you huffed a little as you walked deeper into the room, pausing just beside your mother. “Secondly, I haven’t broken anything.”
Pascale’s eyes narrowed in questioning. “So, what is it that you want?”
Your expression grew sheepish as you wrapped your mother into a hug. “I was hoping you wouldn’t be mad that I invited Max over for Christmas Dinner.”
Her brows furrowed together, a slightly confused expression painted across her face. “Mon cher, I’m sure Max would want to spend time with his family. It must be hard being away from them most of the season, no?”
“There’s a storm,” you explained, your lips turned downwards. “No flights going in or out of the Netherlands. He was meant to fly out yesterday but he couldn't. He probably won’t be able to fly out until New Years.”
Pascale’s eyes softened at the admission. “He’ll be alone for Christmas?”
“No one should be alone for Christmas, Mama,” you murmured, puppy dog eyes and pout ready and prepared to tug on your mother’s heartstrings. And it worked. You knew it was going to work.
It always worked.
“Absolutely not,” Pascale huffed, shaking her head before she turned back to the pot on the stove. “Tell him he’s coming here. And tell Charles in advance so he can get his tantrum out before Christmas.”
Your smile widened as you leaned in to peck your mother’s cheek. “You’re the best!”
“Mhm,” Pascale hummed, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice as she shot you a glance over her shoulder. “You seem to really care for the boy.”
“He’s my husband,” you said, playful and lighthearted and unaware of the underlying message in her words. “I’m pretty sure caring for him was in the vows, no? Unless Vegas is different. Which it might be. I don’t really remember.”
She shot you a look.
You flashed her a sheepish smile. “I mean, I was completely sober and aware and very upset that my mother wasn’t there to see me get married?”
Pascale rolled her eyes in response before she continued. “I just mean that it almost seems like you and Max are a true couple.”
“Mama, how many times have we been over this?” You sighed, a little whiny as you slumped your head against her shoulder. “I promise I was not secretly dating Max Verstappen behind your back. Arthur just keeps saying that to annoy Charles and—”
“No, no, I know that,” she interrupted with a soft laugh. “I just think you have grown to care for him beyond what an accidental wife would.”
You scoffed a little at that. “I care the normal amount for an accidental wife.”
“No need to get defensive, mon cher, he is not better,” Pascale snorted, shaking her head with a fond look in her eyes. “But I am sure there is no need to worry about the details. Charles said he found a lawyer, no?”
You tensed a little before flashing your mother a strained smile, trying to ignore the way your stomach dropped a little at her words. “Did he? He hadn’t mentioned anything to me.”
Pascale had a knowing glint in her eyes but she kept poking. “Hm, maybe it was a Christmas surprise.”
“Maybe,” you murmured, frowning a little. “No need to go through the hassle right now though. It’s the holidays. It can be sorted after the New Year.”
“Oh, of course,” Pascale grinned.
“I’ll go message Max,” you said, straightening yourself before pecking your mother’s cheek once more. “I’m sure he will be so excited. He loved your cooking.”
Pascale’s smile was all sweet and teasing. “That’s why he is my favourite son.”
...
.
...
“Are you sure this is okay? I don’t want to impose or—”
“You are very welcome here, Max, you’re a part of the family too,” Pascale reassured the boy, patting his shoulder with a fond smile before handing him a dish to carry out to the dining table. “We are all very happy to have you joining us.”
“Speak for yourself,” Charles grumbled under his breath.
“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc—”
“Kidding!” Charles spoke up, his cheeks flushed a light pink colour at his mother’s scolding tone. “I could imagine no better Christmas gift!”
Pascale rolled her eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Max. He gets a lot more tolerable once he’s been fed.”
You snorted in response.
Charles lightly kicked you as he walked past.
“Thank you though, really,” Max said, looking far more relaxed and at ease than he had during the first family dinner he attended, despite Daniel messaging you about how nervous the Dutchman was. “This is much better than what I had planned before.”
“Hey now,” you spoke up, nudging your hip against Max’s as you settled beside the boy. “Jimmy and Sassy seem like excellent company.”
Max grinned a little. “They are divas, trust me.”
“Just like their father,” you teased.
Pascale only smiled knowingly before handing you another dish to take to the dining table.
...
.
...
“This was a bad idea.”
“Hi, Oscar. How are you doing? Happy New Years, by the way, since Australia is ahead and I haven’t said a word—”
“Are you done yet?” You grumbled down the phone, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as you eyed the door warily.
“You’re the one who risked calling me at seven in the morning.”
“It’s not seven yet,” you retorted.
“Semantics.”
“I should have just called Logan,” you muttered, mostly to yourself than the boy on the phone—but considering the snort he let out, he heard you clear enough. “The asshole didn’t pick up his phone.”
“He’s probably lost his phone in a lake by now.”
Your lips twitched. “Bet the crocodiles would have better advice than you.”
“And yet, you still called me.” There was a small pause, the playfulness now replaced with something a little more serious when you didn’t laugh at his lame attempt at a joke. “What’s up?”
“I’m in the Netherlands right now,” you breathed out, sliding into the bathtub and leaning back against the porcelain wall.
“I know. You told us.”
“I’m in the Netherlands for New Years with Max,” you repeated, the emphasis on your husband’s name doing little to help Oscar realise the point you were trying to make.
“Yeah, you’ve lost me.”
“I–” You let out a heavy breath, your head falling back against the bath and your eyes fluttering shut. “What the fuck am I doing?”
“Probably sitting in a bath, if you’re at least three drinks deep.”
Your eyes snapped open, glancing down at yourself before scoffing. “Creep.”
“I’m your best friend. I just know you. Nothing creepy about that.”
“Whatever,” you grumbled, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress.
It was nothing special in your opinion, a simple black dress you had made a few months ago with some spare fabric and an overwhelming sense of boredom as summer loomed on. Yet, Max had still gone out of his way to compliment you when he saw it, on how pretty both you and the dress were.
You told yourself he was just being polite, but it didn’t stop your cheeks from warming at his words regardless.
“Why are you confused?”
“Two months ago, the most I had spoken to Max was when Charles first moved up to Formula One and we hadn’t seen each other in a few years. Now, I am married and he invited me to spend New Years with him and—”
“You invited him to your family dinners. Twice. Once on Christmas, may I add.”
You glared at your phone for a moment. “Not the same point.”
“How not?”
“Because this is New Years,” you emphasised once again. “You spend it with people you want to have in your life for the next year. You spend it with people important to you and he brought me and I am meeting his friends and—”
“I think you are severely overthinking this.”
“Well, I don’t think you are taking it seriously enough,” you retorted.
“Are you scared about kissing him? Is that what this is?”
You didn’t reply straight away.
“Oh my god.”
You huffed. “You make it seem like I am being dramatic.“
“You are.”
“Logan would disagree.”
“Logan isn’t here.”
“Stupid timezones and stupid Florida,” you grumbled once again, glaring at a random spot on the wall across from you.
“Look, do you wanna kiss him?”
You let out a garbled noise of indecisiveness.
“You either kiss him or you don’t. It’s your choice. He’s not gonna pressure you into anything. He just wants to spend time with you. Don’t overthink it.”
“I won’t.”
“You will.”
And you did.
Even after spending a prolonged amount of time on the phone with Oscar in the bathroom, you still felt skittish and on edge when you headed back into the party. The faces around you were vaguely familiar, countless names that Max had thrown at you bouncing around your head but you couldn’t pinpoint them. Not well.
Not that you were talking to his friends as much as you should have been doing, beyond a few sheepish and polite smiles.
And Max had picked up on your shifted behaviour pretty quickly. Your smile had done little to soothe his concern as you took your spot next to him, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his hand on the small of your back.
“You good?”
“Mhm,” you nodded.
His frown deepened. “We can leave if you want.”
But you shook your head, your smile a little more genuine this time. “No, I’m good. I promise. Just need a moment before I do another round of tequila shots.”
This time Max smiled a little in response.
And you couldn’t help yourself. Your eyes always seemed to wander to the time, whether it was a clock or your phone screen or the watch on Max’s wrist. Your eyes were glued to the way both hands quickly began to approach the number 12. Your whole body felt like it had been shot with adrenaline, coursing through your veins and making you so twitchy and on edge as midnight was moments away.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Max questioned as the party gathered in a crowd in the garden with the promise of fireworks luring them out.
TEN!
NINE!
EIGHT!
“Yeah, I promise,” you smiled, something almost quite fond in your voice as Max stared at you, not the sky where the fireworks were about to go off.
SEVEN!
SIX!
FIVE!
FOUR!
“I’m sorry if this is a bit much,” Max murmured with his lips pressed together. “I did kind of throw you in the deep end. I just thought it would be easier in a bigger setting rather—”
And it made your heart soar just how sweet and considerate he was being. It made the tension lingering in your chest ease, made the shakiness in your hands stop.
It made your decision much easier.
THREE!
TWO!
ONE!
“It’s perfect, Max,” you murmured, so soft that you weren’t even sure he heard you. But you didn’t get the chance to ask as you leaned in, pressing your lips against his as the final toll of the bell rang and the fireworks began.
Despite being caught off guard, Max sunk into the kiss easily. His hand dropped to your waist, pulling the little bit closer before the eventual cheers and fireworks display made you finally pull away.
But his eyes remained on you.
“What was that for?” Max questioned, something written in his eyes that you couldn’t quite distinguish.
You smiled in response, shrugging. “Because you’re my husband.”
...
liked by oscarpiastri, arthurleclerc and 423,738 others
yourusername happy holidays from the verstappens!
view all 16,837 comments
charles_leclerc that's not your name. stop saying that's your name. i am so serious.
pascaleleclerc leave them alone, charles
charles_leclerc MAMAN????
maxverstappen1 when i married you, i didn't know i would be carrying you this much
yourusername are you saying i don't deserve the princess treatment?🤨
maxverstappen1 ...no?
danielricciardo don't sound too confident, mate
yourusername now i wish i posted the picture where you dropped the tray
maxverstappen1 that was not my fault and you know it
yourusername 😁
user OH MY GOD??????
user they spent the holidays together!!!!
user THEY ARE SO CUTE
landonorris it's weird not seeing him in red bull merch
yourusername tell me about it
user i cannot WAIT for next season
user do you think she will go to the red bull garage now??
arthur_leclerc charles will chain her to the ferrari garage before that happens
user i cannot cope with these two i am so obsessed
logansargeant HELLO????? ANSWER YOUR PHONE??? WTF IS THAT THIRD PHOTO???
oscarpiastri i would also like to know. answer the group chat
yourusername woah what's that? sorry can't hear you over the fireworks!!
logansargeant 😐
user can i be your new years kiss🤩
maxverstappen1 no.
user i swear they have been secretly married for years and they are playing a prank on us
Hey girlll I love your blog so so so much! Congrats on the 4k bc you absolutely deserve it🫶🏼
I just had a little angsty request for Charles lando or Oscar (you can pick any you’re feeling more atm, I eat up anything ab my boys)
I saw this prompt maybe you could use - - "I can be there when you need me!" "But I did, and you weren't."
late night talking.
op x fem norris!reader
in which lando’s little sister has been sneaking around with his teammate, but it’s starting to have its challenges…
hiiiii thank u sm anon! love this request love you MWAH! so appreciative of this request and all of the others and that y’all trust me to bring your ideas to life!! i hope this hits the way you wanted it to! let me know what you think, big love 🤍
songs to set the mood: late night talking by harry styles, i love you by billie eilish, over my head by james marriott, if these walls could talk by 5sos
warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst, fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, secret relationship, brothers teammate trope (r is lando’s sister), fingering, morning sex, angsty needy sex, lando being an embarrassing little shit
4.1k words
sex and talking. sex and talking. sex and talking.
that’s what you do, oscar and you.
you watch him all weekend, eyes trailing his lean frame, the way his body moves under papaya fabric. then, when your brother finally leaves you alone, you sneak into oscar’s arms, room, bed, whatever’s closest.
you have your way with one another, nothing untouched, unexplored, and then you talk and talk until your lips hurt from stretched out grins and a satisfying ache sets into your spent limbs. you sneak out when the sun comes up the next day and join lando for breakfast in whatever hotel you’re in that weekend.
rinse, repeat.
you can remember the first time you saw him in real life, way back in early 2023, clear as day. you were in bahrain with your brother for testing, the sun in your eyes, and there he was. awkward, stocky, hands buried deep in his mclaren administered slacks. he was littered with moles, mousey brown hair catching the rays of light, chocolate eyes conveying cool confidence that didn’t at all match up with his uncomfortable stance. you could kiss over those moles like a game of dot to dot, tug on his strands that looked like smooth chocolate frosting, sink into his brown irises until you drowned.
lando had caught you staring, sending his elbow into your ribs, and when you turned to glare at him, cuss him out, you saw a look of warning. his eyes said: don’t you fucking dare.
and you didn’t dare, not for a while at least.
-
“o-osc.” you whine, panting through the waves of eye-watering pleasure.
he’s got you laid out across his massage table, two fingers scissoring into your sodden cunt as his thumb bumps your clit in messy circles.
it’s rare that you sneak away so brazenly like this during a race weekend.
“you gotta be quiet.” oscar shushes you, eyes flitting between your own watery pair and his fingers where they’re working you open.
“trying.” you breathe, slapping your own hand over your mouth when your belly tightens one last time. one wrong move and the entirety of the hospitality suite will know. lando will know. perhaps all of china will know. that’s how good he fucking feels.
you sob into your palm, bucking your hips wildly as you fall apart, spilling all around his relentless fingers. he fucks you through it, grinning coyly as your muffled cries subside.
“c’mere.” oscar lulls, pulling you back towards him. he kisses you deeply, smiling against your lips.
“i should go.” you mumble, pushing his hair back and raking your fingers through his hair.
oscar nods apathetically, reserved all of the sudden. you frown, stealing another quick kiss. you stumble to your feet fixing your underwear and your skirt, and grab your bag from the small sofa.
“we need to be more careful.” his words make your blood run cold.
“more careful?”
you sneak in and out of hotel rooms under the cover of night, you have his name disguised in your phone, you never speak to him in public.
“this was risky.” oscar shrugs. he looks antsy, his entire demeanour changing in a matter of minutes, the ecstasy of watching you writhe all for him worn off.
“this- i- you’re the one who dragged me in here, piastri.” you accuse. ‘piastri’ is reserved for when you’re pissed off, a cagey step back from the affection ‘osc’ that you usually called him. “whatever, i’ve got to go.”
“i’ll see you later?” he poses it as a question, uncertain that you’ll show. he has never been uncertain before, not with you, not with a lot of things. bile rises in your throat, and you scoff.
you can’t reply. the door slams behind you.
-
“where’ve you been?” lando ruffles your hair, a single eyebrow raised suspiciously.
“got bored with watching you look at data so i went for a walk.” you reply nonchalantly, pushing his hand away.
he hums in response, nodding slowly. it’s like he doesn’t quite believe you but he quickly moves on.
“you coming out with us after the race tomorrow?” lando asks.
“depends on who ‘us’ is.” you reply curtly. you don’t wanna look at oscar’s stupid, handsome face for a second longer than you have to. a familiar sadness sinks into your bones.
“couple of the drivers, alex, carlos, oh and oscar might even be swayed.” you grit your teeth, suddenly frustrated. “anyway, since when do you have beef with drivers? little miss sunshine fallen out with someone?” lando sounds confused, accusatory.
you stay silent, walking into the back of the garage, praying someone will come and steal your brother away.
“hey, you gonna tell me what the problem i-?”
“lando, we need you to look at this.” your brother gets cut off by a frantic engineer, your prayers answered, and is quickly lost to the chaos of the garage.
a pair of warm eyes burn into the side of your head. you turn to see oscar watching you, his eyebrows furrowed as if he’s studying you. he’s fidgeting, playing with his fingers, something strange for the man as cool as a cucumber. you look away as quickly as you can, managing to tear your eyes away from him, a lump forming in your throat which you swallow down.
it’s painful, really. sex and talking, it’s not enough, never has been for even a second. oscar piastri, australian f1 driver, number 81, quickly became your oscar, somewhat against your will.
-
somewhere in hungary, about 8 months ago
“are we really doing this, piastri?” you giggle, throwing your head back as his lips work your neck.
“need you.” he groans into your skin, low and needy. you’ve never heard him sound so disheveled, so desperate, a far cry from his usual, monotonous self.
“want you, osc.” you pant when his lips find your sweet spot, the feeling of him so delicious on your body.
“have me.” he whispers, falling into bed with you in his lap.
you lay there basking in stunned silence afterwards, a layer of sweat coating your knackered body. your shoulder is pressed flush with oscar’s, not an inch of space between you while you both stare at the ceiling, sporting matching lazy grins.
“i can’t believe we did that.” oscar mutters, a layer of disbelief in his voice.
“i think we should do it again.” you tease, except you are deadly serious.
“agreed.” he breathes.
“this stays between us, right?” you whisper, shyly.
“always.”
-
always makes your skin crawl now. you’re sick of having him in the dark, of having to avoid him in public for fear of turning into a lovesick fool. it’s embarrassing, really, unrequited love.
you can barely follow qualifying, staring blankly at the empty space in the garage where oscar’s car resides. you manage to catch the radio message through the headset you have on, the one where oscar’s muttering about a stupid mistake that’s just knocked him out. he’s limping back to the pits, licking his wounds.
you feel a pang in your chest, sympathetic and disappointed for him. you wonder what his mistake was, where his mind was. you’ll wait for the right moment, swallow the ache in your heart and your pride, and you’ll comfort him. he gets led away by frustrated engineers immediately, studying lines of data with furrowed eyebrows. you watch from afar, but then your heart sinks to your feet when four words sound through your headphones.
“lando, are you okay?”
will sounds stressed, repeating the four words that make your world stop spinning on its axis. everyone in the garage is staring at the tv screen, breaths held, stomachs tight.
your brothers car sits in tatters, carbon fibre littering the track. you can see the fluorescents of his helmet burrowed in the cockpit, still. your mouth hangs open, one hand clutching your chest, the other covering your quivering lips. you’re numb.
that feeling returns, the one of eyes burning into your weathered features. your wide eyes flit to the australian boy watching you from across the garage, and you beg silently for him to just come to you, pull you close, tell you that lando is okay and that he loves you back.
and lando is okay, his winded voice reassuring you over the radio.
but you stand there alone.
just like always.
-
somewhere in brazil, about 5 months ago
“what’s your favourite colour?” oscar mumbles lazily, lips bumping your cheekbone.
you’re curled up on his lap watching the sunset from his balcony. he was well behind lando after qualifying, and he’d craved a moment alone with you all day.
the air was thick, humid, the hot orange sun sinking far off in the horizon. you turn to face him, his features illuminated by the hazy glow. the sunlight makes his chocolate eyes sparkle warmly, so pretty.
“brown.” you whisper, scanning his face.
he laughs lowly, his chest rumbling.
“brown?” he questions teasingly.
“yep.” you grin, pecking his lips softly.
“why?”
“go look at those pretty eyes of yours in the mirror.” you retort smoothly, threading your fingers through his shower-damp strands.
“you flirting with me?”
“you bet i am.”
you twist back around, facing the view once more, moulding into his body. he kisses over your shoulder, resting his chin. you stay there content until the sun is gone and the stars twinkle.
-
the air in the room is thick, awkwardly silent.
he stands leaning against the desk, opposite where you sit on your bed. the lights are low in your hotel room, the imprint of your body still fresh against the mattress. you’d been crying when he knocked, eyes rimmed red, skin flushed raw.
“you just stood there.” you croak.
“love, i-“
“don’t call me that. please.”
hurt flashes across his features, but like he knows it’s not fair of him to complain, he buries it immediately.
“i just… will you hear me out?” oscar pleads quietly.
you nod feebly.
“it’s impossible. this, us. i wanted to go to you but i- i couldn’t, i didn’t know how that would look and i didn’t want to jeopardise this.”
“but you did.” you whisper. his face shatters, falling fast.
“no, no, i can be there when you need me-“
“but you weren’t!” you cry, your body physically sinking, your shoulders drooping.
“i can fix this, i will.”
“i think we need to stop this, osc. it’s too painful for me. i’ve tried to move past the hurt but after today…” your voice shakes and you crumble, the first tear falling.
“i’m not trying to hurt you.” he crosses the space between you in two rushed steps, collapsing to his knees before you.
“that’s not good enough.” you bite back. “i’m not going to be some guys dirty little secret. i won’t do it anymore oscar.”
“i was trying to protect you… this.” he gestures between you desperately
“i know, oscar. i know! but i never asked you to do that. i can’t love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life.” the words slip from your tongue, abrasive and messy, before your brain can catch up.
you grimace, biting your tongue, but oscar’s reaction couldn’t be further from your own. his watery eyes widen, pink lips pulling into a boyish grin.
“i don’t want to love you in a hotel room for the rest of my life either.” oscar whispers, tentatively taking your hands. you stare down at your slowly intertwining fingers, a familiar warmth oozing through your body. “i wanna love you everywhere.”
“show me.” you murmur through shaky breath.
“i will.” he leans in, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “for as long as you let me, i will.”
“just come here.” your fingers find the hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, one born of frustration, and longing, and a year of late night talking about everything except how much you love each other.
oscar pushes you back onto the bed, crawling over you, starving. you pull him flush against you, leaving no room between your bodies. you crave the feel of his entire weight pressing you into the mattress and as he does, you feel at home. when you pull apart, catching your breaths, he says it properly, for the first time, and the world gets lighter.
“i love you.” oscar cups your jaw, those chocolate eyes boring into yours, the intensity of it knocking you for six. “always.” he adds.
the meaning of the word changes. always doesn’t mean a shameful, taboo secret anymore. life is breathed into the six lettered word; always means you and him, together, finally out of the shadows.
“i love you, osc.” you whisper.
he’s smiling when he kisses you again, unbuttoning your blouse like he’ll die if he doesn’t get the offending item off of your frame. you retaliate by shoving his t-shirt up his back, tugging greedily at it to strip him bare. the material comes off easily and as he sits up to throw it away, you shrug off your blouse and it meets his shirt on the floor. his hands smooth over your curves, brushing the pudge of your belly as he finds the zip of your skirt, ruining the fasten in his state of haste. you barely notice the way he’s ruined the item of clothing, urgently unbuttoning his jeans. your underwear is gone too, nothing separating you but your bra, restless hands on heated skin.
“we need to be quiet.” you breathe. “lando’s next door.” oscar giggles, tinged pink.
“get on top, love.” he drawls, flipping onto his back and taking you with him.
he sits up with you in his lap, nothing anchoring either of you in the middle of the bed. the imprint of your devastated form is gone, replaced by the shape of him. you can feel the head of his cock nudging through your folds, slicking him up so that he can slide nice and deep. he trails his fingers between your legs, thumbing at your clit in deft circles, just the way he knows you like it. you’re mewling in his lap, grinding down on the pad of his thumb; it’s so good but it’s not enough.
“please, osc.” you pant, urging him to let you sink down on his cock. you can see how red it is, feel the way it throbs for you, and the need to be full of him is almost paralysing.
“come on, pretty girl. fill yourself up.” oscar mutters against the shell of your ear.
he kisses down your throat as you slide down on him, dropping your hips firm against his.
“fuck.” you cry, your forehead falling against his shoulder.
“you okay, sweetheart? feel so good for me.” oscar coos, his fingertips digging hard into your hips.
“so good, baby.” your head rolls back, feeling him hit that spot tucked away within your walls.
your breaths mingle, your breasts flush against his chest, and as if he realises that he never stripped you of your pesky bra, he grunts, unclasping the black lace and flinging it somewhere far away. he gently mumbles an awestruck “fuck”, as if he hasn’t seen your tits a million and one times before, and latches onto your nipple. his tongue works in slow circles, matching the pace of your hips working languidly on his cock, and you keen further into his body.
“prettiest girl for me.” oscar grits out, his eyes squeezing shut when you clamp down on him, hard.
you’re both trying so hard to be quiet, overwhelmed by touch and taste, love. you’re growing tired, hurtling towards a desperate release, and oscar can sense it, the feel of your quivering thighs tightening around his hips spurring him on. he grinds up into you, maintaining your pace, but he’s fucking you harder now, the anticipation of your release sending shivers down his spine.
“you gonna cum for me?” oscar grunts, holding your hips down against him. you can’t move, his hold too tight and your body too tired, all you can do is wait for your orgasm to hit like a ton of bricks. you nod frantically.
“yes, oscar, please baby.” you beg for it, and like the true gentleman he is, the calloused pad of his pointer finger finds its home on your clit, sending you into an upwards spiral.
it’s as if you’re levitating when you let go, in a dreamlike state, your teeth sinking hard into his pale shoulder to muffle a surefire whine of his name. he’s rutting into you, prolonging the bliss.
“cum inside of me.” you urge, voice barely above a whisper. well, you’ve certainly never done this before.
oscar’s eyes roll into the back of his head, tears pricking his lash line. a guttural gasp of your name spills from his lips when he lets go, painting your insides warm and white. you stare at the tiny indents your teeth had left on his thick shoulder, his breath hitting the crook of your neck warm and wet as he comes down.
“‘m yours, and i’m here. i’m always gonna be here, i promise.” oscar speaks so quietly that you wonder if you’ve imagined it.
-
“when i made that mistake today, i was thinking about you.”
you’ve been laying there in silence for a while now, tucked under his arm when he speaks. you turn to look at him, perplexed.
“what?”
“i felt so awful about what i said after we, you know. you looked so upset with me, and i don’t blame you.” oscar sighs.
“i just don’t want to feel like a shameful secret, osc.” you tell him quietly, the words heavy on your tongue.
“you won’t, not anymore. ‘m so sorry, sweetheart.” he lulls, kissing over your hairline.
“how do we make this work? and how are we ever gonna explain this to-“
“lando.” oscar cuts you off, shifting uncomfortable. “he’s going to murder me and my entire bloodline.” he chuckles nervously.
“he won’t murder you. he might put you in a gravel trap, though.” you roll onto your side, smiling teasingly up at him and he rolls his eyes.
“i’ll take the heat. you’re worth it.”
-
“promise me.” you pant, his hips grinding into you. you’re curled into his chest, still spooning and barely awake. he’d woken up needy, and you were even needier, the faint glow of early morning sunshine washing over you through a crack in the beige curtains.
“anything.” oscar stutters, his breath warm against the back of your neck. his nose bumps your skin, teeth scraping the shell of your ear.
you stop meeting his thrusts. he whines low, wordlessly pleading for you to resume. he ruts his hips against your ass, chasing friction.
“tell me it’s all gonna be different now.”
“i already told you, i-“ oscar grunts.
“promise me.” you purposely clamp down on him, a hiss sounding from between his gritted teeth.
“promise, i promise, i love you.”
you giggle, rocking your hips again, fucking yourself onto him once more.
“i know.”
“you gonna let me off the hook?” oscar pants in your ear, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth.
“still gotta prove yourself, piastri.” you moan.
he feels deeper like this and he knows it, revelling in the way he’s filled you up so perfectly. he rolls into you slowly, sliding against each and every spot that makes you squirm. you drop your guard, going limp in his arms to let him finish you off.
“you nearly there, sweetheart? you gonna cum for me, love?” his accents thickens in the mornings, husky and intoxicating. you fall apart, then, and he stays buried inside of you, the only sounds in the room your matching heavy breathing.
“i need you to get dressed.” oscar kisses your cheek.
“kicking me out already?” you feign offence, looking at him over your shoulder.
his fingers come to cup your chin, his forehead resting against yours.
“there’s something we gotta do.”
-
you’re wearing your skirt from the day before, the waistband rolled over to make up for the oscar-destroyed zipper. his hoodie that you’ve stolen almost completely covers the short skirt, and your messy hair and poorly removed makeup don’t do much to convince anyone that you’d actually slept in your own room last night.
still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you don’t really comprehend where oscar is leading you, but when the elevator dings, signalling that you’ve reached the restaurant floor, you’re suddenly painfully awake. time seems to move in slow motion, your tummy twisting as you realise what’s about to happen.
ahead of you, tucked into the corner of the restaurant is your brother, jon, and ashley. lando is already draped in team kit, the papaya of his hoodie blaring obnoxiously for once, a warning sign.
“oscar, what-“
“i’m doing this.” he affirms, speeding up his stride.
oh my god oh my god oh my fucking god.
your heart speeds up, dropping to the pit in your belly when lando notices you, eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the bewildering sight before him. his baby sister, disheveled and wide-eyed, and his teammate holding her hand, on a mission.
“what the fuck am i looking at?” lando doesn’t sound angry, per say, more perplexed than anything. there is an edge to his voice that you don’t particularly like, but he hasn’t started swinging yet, you suppose.
“i’m in love with your sister. like, for real. you deserve to know that.” oscar says confidently, somewhat monotonously.
lando opens his mouth, closes it. opens it again, closes it. he repeats the process a few more times, going through the motions of an emotional rollercoaster.
but then, he sighs deeply, a grin of disbelief stretching across his face. jon bangs on the table excitedly, and ash is shaking his head.
“you owe us so much money.” jon laughs, his head tipping back.
“pay up, boss.” ash sticks his hand out expectantly, smirking across the table.
“what… what?” you exclaim, narrowing your eyes in confusion.
“i didn’t wanna believe them.” lando shrugs.
“don’t blame you.” oscar chimes in, and you stare between the two mclaren drivers in bewilderment.
“are you okay with this?” you question, staring your brother in the eyes, still a bit disoriented by the entire situation. his face softens, a genuine smile lingering small on his lips.
“if you’re happy, i’ll make my peace with it.” lando’s eyes flit between you and oscar.
all of the sudden, a look of horror crosses his face, and his voice turns stern.
“but,” he inhales shakily. “if i ever, ever, hear again what i think i heard last night,” he glares at oscar, pointing one firm finger at the australian, who stands up a bit straighter. “you’re dead, piastri.”
jon and ash bite back giggles at the empty threat, and you take it upon yourself to put an end to the situation before it gets any more awkward.
“well, on that note!” you sing-song, dragging oscar away.
“and make sure you’re using protection!” lando calls out, panic stricken, big brother mode activated.
“oh my god.” you blush dark pink, speeding up, the elevator in your sights.
“that went well.” oscar quips sarcastically. he looks rather happy with himself.
you kiss him as soon as the metal doors shut.
-
you do go out after the race, but for once it’s not to drink away the memories of a weekend in oscar’s arms. this time, it’s to celebrate the fact that you can love him out loud, and he’ll do the same right back.
you’re dancing in his arms, bright lights in shades of blues and purples streaming over your bodies. oscar holds you close, keeps you wrapped in his arms, despite the shock on the faces of others at the sight of lando norris’s baby sister publicly besotted with his teammate.
when oscar kisses you deep, smiling against your lips that taste like cherry liquor, you know that this last year of your life wasn’t in vain.
you and oscar, you’re built to last.
-
“how did you not see it, mate?” charles beams, crinkles by his eyes from the wide smile he’s sporting. he’s clearly drunk, but lando is too.
it appears he’s clocked the brits sister and her australian suitor on the dance floor.
the monagasque has rocked up to the bar with alex and pierre in tow, the three of them slapping lando on the back as they arrive.
“i guess there were signs.” lando shrugs, dragging his finger over the rim of the crystal glass.
“signs? mate it was obvious.” pierre chuckles, pushing lando’s shoulder.
“wait, you all knew?” lando splutters.
yeah. duh. come on, man.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“it’s funnier.” charles… winks? it’s hard to tell with him.
lando finds you in the crowd, grinning up at oscar like he hung the stars in the sky. the younger mclaren driver returns your look, and it sparks warmth in lando’s chest.
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