୨ৎ : Pairing : Max Verstappen's little sister x Kimi Antonelli
୨ৎ : Sypnosis : Kimi and Y/N have been dating in secret for several months now but what happens when the paddock slowly becomes suspicious of the pair and what's Max's reaction?
୨ৎ : Pov : Third person
୨ৎ masterlist- coming soon
a/n : I am not italian, I used google translate so the italian may be wrong. There are probably some mistakes in here. This was so fun for me to write, I hope you all enjoy it x
P.S I am taking requests for fanfictions, either put your request in the comments or go to my blog and request x
The paddock had a rhythm to it.
It always had.
Engines roaring in the distance, mechanics moving like clockwork, journalists hovering for quotes, and somewhere in the middle of it all—Y/N Verstappen, the unofficial heart of it.
Nobody really knew when it started.
Maybe it was when she was little, trailing behind Max with oversized headphones and wide eyes. Or maybe it was when she grew into someone who could walk into any garage, any hospitality unit, and instantly lift the mood without even trying.
She wasn’t just Max’s little sister.
She was everyone’s little sister.
The paddock princess.
—
“Y/N! My favourite little sister!” Daniel called, arms open dramatically as she walked past the Red Bull garage.
She didn’t even hesitate—just laughed and ran into his hug. “You say that every weekend,” she teased.
“And every weekend I mean it more.”
A few meters away, Max watched, arms crossed, expression neutral.
Protective.
Always protective.
“She’s fine,” someone muttered beside him.
Max didn’t even look. “I know she’s fine. That doesn’t mean I trust you lot.”
What Max didn’t know—what no one knew, at least at first—was that Y/N wasn’t as unattached as she seemed.
Not even close.
Because across the paddock, pretending to be very interested in his phone, stood Kimi.
And if you were paying attention—really paying attention—you’d notice how his eyes flicked up every few seconds.
Always landing on her. Always softening.
Keeping it a secret had been easy at first.
Too easy.
Because no one expected it.
Y/N was off-limits.
Untouchable in a way—not because she wasn’t approachable, but because of Max.
Max didn’t like the idea of her dating.
At all.
Especially not someone in the paddock. Especially not a driver.
“Distraction,” he’d called it once. “Dangerous.”
Y/N had just rolled her eyes. “Relax, Max. I’m not planning on falling in love in the paddock.”
Kimi, sitting two seats away, had nearly choked on his drink.
But secrets never stay secrets for long.
Especially not in a place like this.
The first hints were small.
So small they almost went unnoticed.
A shared look a second too long. A hand brushing briefly as they passed each other. Kimi showing up in places he didn’t need to be—Red Bull hospitality, media zones, even the café where Y/N liked to sit between sessions.
“Funny how he’s always here when you are,” Oscar muttered one afternoon.
Y/N didn’t even flinch. “Maybe he just likes good coffee.”
“Or maybe he likes you.”
She smiled sweetly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Across the table, Lando raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
—
The WAGS noticed.
They always did.
It was during a quiet moment in the hospitality suite when Lily leaned closer to Carmen and whispered,“Tell me I’m not imagining this.”
“You’re not,” Carmen replied instantly.
Both of them glanced toward the corner, where Y/N was laughing, head tilted toward Kimi, who was listening like she was the only person in the room.
Alex followed their gaze.“Oh,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” Lily nodded.
“Since when?” Alex asked.
“Long enough,” Carmen said, smiling slightly.
“And we’re not telling anyone?” she asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
Carmen’s grin widened. “Because watching the drivers figure it out is going to be way more entertaining.”
And she was right.
The clues started stacking.
Kimi’s phone lock screen—caught briefly on camera—was a blurry photo of someone laughing.
Fans speculated.
The paddock ignored it.
But the WAGS?
They knew.
Y/N’s Instagram became another layer of chaos.
Nothing obvious.
Never obvious.
Just… hints.
—
YN_Verstappen has posted
Y/N_Verstappen
Liked by MaxVerstappen, User9 KellyPiquet, User4, LilyMuniHe, User7, kimiAntonelli... click to see more
Coffee☕️👍
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LilyMuniHe Ditch him and go out with me instead!! liked by author
↳User2 Him!? Who's him!?!? Y/N EXPLAIN YOURSELF!!
User7 Girl i need to know where you get your hair done!!
AlexandraSaintMleux Gorgeous gorgeous girl💞
↳Y/N_Verstappen Love youuu soo muchh🥰💗
User6 Why is Kimi in the likes? Since when were they friends?..
click to see more
—
“Is that…?” Charles started one day, squinting at his phone.
“No idea,” Carlos shrugged, though his smile said otherwise.
Meanwhile, Max remained blissfully unaware. Mostly because—
“Y/N, you’re staying in my sight this weekend,” he said firmly.
She groaned. “Max, I’m not five.”
“No, but you’re still my responsibility.”
“I’m literally an adult.”
“And I’m still your brother.”
Kimi, standing a few feet away, looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.
The first driver to really suspect something was George.
It happened during a random Thursday media day.
Y/N walked past, waving at a group of drivers.“Hey, guys!”
Kimi didn’t just wave back.
He lit up.
It was subtle—but not invisible.George frowned slightly.“…Okay.”
“What?” Lando asked.
George shook his head. “Nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing.
—
Then came the almost-slip.
It was late. Most of the paddock had cleared out. Only a few people lingered.
Kimi and Y/N sat side by side on a bench, talking quietly.
Too close.
Too comfortable.
“Can I—” Kimi started, reaching for her hand—
“Oi!”
They jumped apart instantly.
Daniel stood there, grinning. “Well, well."
Y/N crossed her arms. “What do you want?”
“Just checking why you two look like you’ve been caught committing a crime.”
“We haven’t,” she said quickly.
Daniel’s eyes flicked between them.
Then he smiled.
“Ohhh.”
“Don’t,” Y/N warned.
“I’m not saying anything,” he held his hands up. “Yet.”
The domino effect had begun.
One by one, the drivers started noticing.
Not at the same time.
Not in the same way.
But eventually…they all saw it.
The way Kimi always knew where Y/N was. The way she always found him in a crowd. The way their conversations felt… different.
More private. More them.
“Okay, I need confirmation,” Lando said one evening.
“About what?” Oscar asked, already knowing.
“Are they—?”
“Yes,” Oscar said simply.
“You knew?!”
“I had a suspicion.”
“And you didn’t tell me?!”
Oscar shrugged. “It was obvious.”
“It was not obvious!”
“It was.”
—
By the time Charles figured it out, it wasn’t even a question.
He just watched them for a few minutes. Then nodded. “…Right.”
Carlos leaned over. “You too?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone knows now, right?”
“Everyone except—”
They both looked toward Max.
“…him.”
Max was the final boss.
The one obstacle no one wanted to face.
The reveal wasn’t dramatic. Not really.
It was quiet. Accidental. Inevitable.
Max had gone looking for Y/N.
She wasn’t in hospitality.
Not in the garage.
Not with the WAGS.
So he checked the quieter areas of the paddock.
And that’s when he saw them.
Not doing anything outrageous.
Not even close.
Just sitting together. Close enough that it meant something. Talking in low voices. Smiling in a way that felt… different.
Max stopped walking.
Watched.
Listened.
And then—Y/N reached over and gently fixed something on Kimi’s collar.
A small, absent gesture. But intimate.
Familiar.
Real.
Max exhaled slowly. “…Right.”
They didn’t notice him at first.Which somehow made it worse.
Because it meant they weren’t hiding in that moment. They were just… being.
Together.
When Y/N finally looked up and saw him—Everything froze.“…Max."
Kimi went pale.
Max walked over slowly. Calm.
Too calm. “How long?”
Y/N swallowed. “Max—”
“How. Long.”
“…A few months..”
Silence.
Then—“…You’re kidding.”
“No.”
Max ran a hand through his hair. Looked at Kimi. Then back at her. Then—He sighed.
Not angry.
Not explosive.
Just… resigned.
“You hid this from me?”
Y/N stepped closer. “Because you would’ve reacted like this."
“I’m not reacting!”
“You’re doing the Max thing.”
“What ‘Max thing’?!” he snapped.
She crossed her arms. “The overprotective, slightly terrifying older brother thing.”
“…I am not terrifying.”
Kimi made a small noise.
Max turned to him.“…Don’t.”
The tension hung for a moment.
Then—Max shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
He started to walk away—
Then stopped. Turned back.
Pointed at Kimi.
“You. Come with me."
Kimi froze.
Y/N stepped forward. “Max—”
“It’s fine,” Kimi said quietly.
(It was not fine.)
The “big brother talk” was… intense.
Not loud. Not aggressive.
Just very, very direct.
“If you hurt her—”
“I won’t.”
“You say that now.”
“I mean it.”
Max studied him.
Long.
Carefully.
“You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then Max nodded slightly. “…Okay."
Kimi blinked. “Okay?”
“You mess this up, I will make your life hell.”
“…Fair.”
Max sighed. “…Take care of her.”
“I will.”
—
When they walked back, Y/N was pacing. “You’re alive,” she said immediately.
“Barely,” Kimi joked.
Max rolled his eyes. “Relax. I didn’t kill him.”
She looked between them. “…Are we good?”
Max shrugged. “I don’t love it.”
“Max—”
“But…” he sighed. “I trust you.”
She smiled softly and hugged him.
“That’s all I needed.”
The paddock found out about Max finding out within minutes.
“How is he not dead?” Lando whispered.
“I’m right here,” Kimi said.
“Still shocking.”
A week later—
They both decided it was time to soft launch.
Kimi posted first and Y/N followed soon after. The internet went feral.
KimiAntonelli has posted
KimiAntonelli
Liked by Y/N_Verstappen, MaxVerstappen, GeorgeRussell, LandoNorris, LilyMuniHe.... click to see more
La mia bella ragazza. Io ti amerò per sempre, amore mio. (My pretty girl. I will always love you, my love.)
comments
Y/N_Verstappen My pretty boy❤️💋
liked by author
User4 The cutest couple on the grid fr
MaxVerstappen You better treat her right or im slamming my car into you.
↳KimiAntonelli Yes Sir!
User67 mama y papa😍
LilyMuniHe She was our's first,dont forget that.
↳AlexandraSaintMleux mhm
↳CarmenMundt mhm
↳KellyPiquet mhm
↳Y/N_Verstappen always💗
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Y/N_Verstappen has posted
Y/N_Verstappen
liked by KimiAntonelli, Maxverstappen, User8, LilyMuniHe, User2, LandoNorris...click to see more
Im so lucky!!🤭🤩
comments
User2 Not kimi always being the first to like her posts-
User6 I LITERALLY CALLED IT
KimiAntonelli No,im lucky for having such a beautiful girlfriend.
↳Y/N_Verstappen giggling and kicking my feet rn🤭😚
↳LandoNorris Get a room you two!🤢
↳KimiAntonelli and Y/N_Verstappen 🖕
User7 the most unexpected yet the best couple ever
CarmenMundt Can i call you Y/N Antonelli now?
↳KimiAntonelli YES
↳MaxVerstappen NO
↳Y/N_Verstappen ABSOLUTELY
But the paddock?
They just laughed.
“Only took them forever,” George said.
“Only took you forever,” Carmen corrected.
And just like that—
The secret wasn’t a secret anymore.
They didn’t change.
Not really.
Still soft. Still subtle.
Still them.
Just… no more hiding.
Max still watched.
Still protective.
Still Max.
But one evening, as he stood beside them, he nudged Kimi slightly. “You’re doing alright.”
Kimi smiled. “High praise.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
Y/N laughed at something an engineer said, her hand slipping seamlessly into Kimi’s.
kimi.antonelli I love you cara ❤️❤️❤️❤️ ynln love you too amore mio
omg i actually locked in for this and it only took me like two hours.. which is surprising because i usually procrastinate and take multiple days 🥲 i love ka12 and i love football i was watching argentina vs algeria while making this LMAOOO i hope you all enjoy 💌
summary: max dating a royal princess is the craziest rumor ever. right?
folkie radio: okay sooo i almost scrapped this entire fic bc i lost inspo mid writing it but i decided to finish it. nit rlly my best but i hope you like it !
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and 2,340,534 others
yourinstagram Life lately 🌺☀️
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user1 your feed is literally what pinterest wishes it was
user2 monaco's princess and she's still cooler than everyone i know
user3 i need your wardrobe immediately
user4 the way she's a princess but acts like a normal 26 year old 😭
user5 mother has posted
user6 i'm convinced she has the best life on earth
user7 not me forgetting she's actual royalty
user8 imagine being able to say "sorry i can't come i'm busy being a princess"
user9 she's the people's princess fr
user10 one thing about yn is she's gonna serve
user11 COOLEST PRINCESS EVER
alexandrasaintmleux excuse me why are you prettier than the sunset
└ yourinstagram Because i learned from you
└ alexandrasaintmleux liar ❤️
charles_leclerc Where is the photo i took
└ yourinstagram Not good enough for the feed
└ charles_leclerc Unbelievable
└ alexandrasaintmleux She's been bullying him for years don't worry
└ charles_leclerc THANK YOU
└ yourinstagram i am literally the victim here
user12 charles and yn bickering under every post is my favorite genre
user13 the monaco trio is back 😭
user14 yn and charles friendship content when
user15 if i lived in monaco i'd be outside hoping to run into her
user16 i just know she's funny in real life
user17 not actual royalty being friends with charles leclerc 😭
user18 i love how her account is just vibes and occasionally remembering she's a princess
└ user19 still obsessed with the fact she has a tiktok
user20 i wonder if she's dating anyone
└ user21 didn't people say she was dating max verstappen a while ago 😭
└ user22 PLEASE not this rumor again
└ user23 as if max verstappen is pulling a princess be serious
└ user24 the funniest part is some people genuinely believed it
user25 max verstappen dating a princess sounds like wattpad
└ user26 charles would have exposed it by now let's be real
user27 if yn had a boyfriend i feel like alex would accidentally reveal it
liked by lando, charles_leclerc and 2,019,394 others
maxverstappen1 🇲🇨☀️
view all comments
lando wow guys he posted
└ maxverstappen1 Unfortunately
alex_albon Who stole your phone
└ maxverstappen1 I posted this myself
└ alex_albon that's exactly what someone who didn't post it themselves would say
charles_leclerc Slide 2 looks familiar
└ maxverstappen1 It's coffee
└ charles_leclerc Sure
user1 charles knows something
user2 charles is being weird again
user3 why is charles always lurking under max's posts
user4 monaco content from max?? that's new
└ user5 he's been in monaco so much lately
└ user6 isn't he literally living there
user7 MY MANNN
user8 guys don't start
└ user9 i'm starting
└ user10 no because wasn't there that rumor—
└ user11 STOP
└ user12 the princess rumor 😭😭😭
user13 i can't believe people genuinely thought max was dating princess yn
└ user14 that was the funniest rumor ever
└ user15 imagine explaining that sentence out loud
user16 "formula one driver max verstappen is secretly dating the princess of monaco"
└ user17 sounds like a hallmark movie
user18 why yall talking about princess yn under his posts
└ user19 this is why nobody takes f1 fans seriously
└ user20 max would never date a princess
└ user21 and a princess would never date max 😭
liked by user1, user2 and 18,958 others
f1gossip Max Verstappen was spotted having dinner in Monaco last night with an unidentified woman.
The pair were seen leaving a restaurant near the harbor and walking together before getting into a car.
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user1 MAX???? ON A DATE????
user2 hold on hold on hold on
user3 WHO IS THAT
user4 max fans we ride at dawn
user5 this man has a GIRLFRIEND???
user6 why am i shocked like he's not a normal human being
user7 WHO IS THISSS
user8 the way this is how i'm finding out max leaves his house
user9 i need better photos immediately
user10 that picture was taken with a microwave
user11 zoom in
user12 ENHANCE
user13 BROOO I DONT BELIEVE THIS
user14 max verstappen has a girlfriend ??
user15 don't say it
user16 i'm gonna say it
user17 DON'T
user18 princess yn—
user19 GET OUT
user20 we're not doing this again 😭
user21 y'all think every woman in monaco is the princess
user22 why do yall randomly bring the princess up every single time
user23 if max was dating royalty we'd know
user24 "world champion dates princess" 😭😭😭
user25 if max was dating the princess charles would never be able to keep that secret
user26 this is probably just some rich monaco girl
user27 max pulling up with a mystery woman was not on my 2026 bingo card
liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 1,093,583 others
alexandrasaintmleux Thanks to our chauffeurs ❤️
comments
charles_leclerc Thank you for your support
└ alexandrasaintmleux Thank you for your service
└ yourinstagram 5 stars on uber
└ charles_leclerc That's all i get???
user1 WAIT
user2 CHAUFFEURS?????
user3 plural???
user4 THERE WERE TWO MEN???
user5 hold on because charles is obviously one of them
└ user6 WHO IS THE OTHER ONE
user7 OH MY GOD
user8 IS YN NOT SINGLE???
└ user9 THIS IS HOW WE FIND OUT???
user10 no because why did my stomach DROP
user11 i've never considered the possibility that princess yn has a boyfriend
└ user12 i thought she just existed independently from society
└ user13 same 😭
user14 WHO IS THAT
└ user15 zooming in immediately
└ user16 ENHANCE
└ user17 ENHANCE MORE
user18 all i can tell is that he's a man
└ user19 groundbreaking information
user20 charles is one chauffeur
└ user21 which means the other chauffeur was there specifically for yn
user22 PRINCESS YN HAS A BOYFRIEND
user23 OH MY GOD
user24 this lore
user25 ALEXANDRA WHAT HAVE YOU DONE
user26 there's literally no reason for a second guy to be there 😭
└ user27 unless they called an uber
└ user28 do you genuinely think alexandra saint mleux and princess yn of monaco take ubers
└ user29 fair point
user30 okay i'm being serious who is dating the princess of monaco
└ user31 some billionaire probably
└ user32 some prince maybe
└ user33 imagine if it's a normal guy
user34 imagine explaining to your parents that you're dating a princess
└ user35 "what does your girlfriend do?"
└ user36 "she's royalty"
└ user37 😭😭😭
user38 wait wasn't there that max verstappen rumor
└ user39 SHUT UP
└ user40 we're not doing this
└ user41 literally every mystery man becomes max verstappen
└ user42 that man could be 70 years old and y'all would still say max
user43 the funniest part is that if yn had a boyfriend she'd keep it private
└ user44 exactly we'll never find out who it is
user45 alex just accidentally caused an international investigation
user46 i know the palace PR team is SWEATING
liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux and 2,094,549 others
yourinstagram Last night's Princess Grace Foundation Gala 🤍 An evening dedicated to supporting young artists and celebrating creativity. Thank you to everyone who made it possible.
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alexandrasaintmleux absolutely stunning ❤️
└ yourinstagram Love you
charles_leclerc I was told there would be free food
└ yourinstagram There was
└ charles_leclerc Then I have no complaints
user1 i genuinely forget she's royalty until she posts things like this
└ user2 and then i'm like oh right she's a princess 😭
user3 the gown??? hello???
user4 whoever styled her deserves a raise
user5 imagine looking like this while attending a gala
└ user6 imagine attending a gala
└ user7 fair point
user8 no because she's living in a completely different reality than the rest of us
└ user9 princess by day, pinterest girl by night
└ user10 that's literally her brand
user11 i need to know what her life is actually like
└ user12 same
user13 imagine her boyfriend scrolling through these photos
└ user14 STOP
└ user15 i'm still processing the boyfriend thing
└ user16 every time someone mentions it i get surprised all over again
└ user17 because she feels above dating somehow 😭
└ user18 exactly
└ user19 not above dating 😭😭😭
user20 SHES SO ICONIC
user21 whoever the boyfriend is, he definitely saw these photos first
user22 i know she's a princess but she's really so iconic
user23 THAT SHOULD BE ME
user24 imagine your girlfriend casually sending you gala photos before posting them
└ user25 meanwhile i'm sending blurry selfies
└ user26 imagine getting a text like "how does this speech sound?"
└ user27 imagine proofreading a princess's speech
└ user28 that's actually insane
user29 imagine being introduced as "the princess's boyfriend"
└ user30 i'd immediately pass out
└ user31 i wonder if he's royal too
└ user32 probably
└ user33 i don't know, yn seems like the type to date someone normal
└ user34 define normal 😭
└ user35 not another royal
user36 imagine if her boyfriend an athlete
└ user37 wait
└ user38 don't
└ user39 DON'T
user40 every road leads back to max verstappen somehow
└ user41 this fandom has one joke
└ user42 and it's not even a good one anymore 😭
user43 if she was dating max we'd know
└ user44 exactly
└ user45 there's no way they could keep that secret
└ user46 absolutely impossible
liked by user1, user2 and 10,948 others
f1paddockupdates Max Verstappen attended the Princess Grace Foundation Gala in Monaco last night. The four-time World Champion was photographed arriving at the event and spending the evening with fellow guests.
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user1 max at a gala feels wrong somehow 😭
user2 OH WHAT IS THISSS
user3 WAIT wasn't princess yn there too
└ user4 she literally hosted it
user5 okay the rumors are about to start again
└ user6 as if they ever stopped
user7 i'm sorry but max verstappen dating the princess of monaco still sounds fake
└ user8 because it IS fake 😭
user9 i genuinely think she's dating some billionaire we've never heard of
└ user10 same
user11 people see max in monaco once and lose their minds
└ user12 he lives there 😭
user13 PRINCE MAX SO TRUE
user14 imagine if they've been together this whole time and everyone keeps dismissing it
└ user15 that would be the funniest thing ever
user16 there's no way they could keep that secret
└ user17 especially with charles involved
└ user18 now THAT is a good argument
└ user19 charles would accidentally leak it in under a week
└ user20 poor charles catching strays for being incapable of keeping secrets
user21 MAX AND PRINCESS YN??
user22 okay but WHAT is he doing there
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 1,984,430 others
maxverstappen1 Solid weekend. Thanks everyone for the support. 👊
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redbullracing 👏👏
charles_leclerc Decent weekend
└ maxverstappen1 Thanks charles
yourinstagram Told you it'd be a good weekend 🤍
└ maxverstappen1 You were right ❤️
└ user1 WAIT???
└ user2 "TOLD YOU"??????
user3 okay i'm listening
user4 HOLD ON
user5 why does that comment sound so...
└ user6 boyfriend girlfriend coded 😭
└ user7 no literally
user8 wait because how would she told him
└ user9 she probably wished him luck before the race??
user10 why would princess yn be texting max verstappen before a race 😭
└ user11 because they're FRIENDS
└ user12 exactly thank you
user13 and he replied with "you were right" ❤️
└ user14 IT'S THE HEART FOR ME
└ user15 he doesn't reply to everyone with hearts
user16 i think y'all are reading too much into this
└ user17 maybe
└ user18 but i'm choosing delusion
user19 every week these two accidentally feed the allegations 😭
└ user20 i'm still saying there's absolutely no way they're dating
user21 and i'm still saying if they ever announce it i'm deleting my account
└ user22 deal 🤝
liked by user1, user2 and 12,094 others
f1updates Max Verstappen was asked in today's press conference:
Interviewer: "What's the craziest rumor you've ever heard about yourself?"
Max: "Probably that I'm dating the Princess of Monaco."
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user1 HE KNOWS ABOUT THE RUMOR 😭
user2 I'M CRYING
user3 the way he started laughing immediately
user4 okay that pretty much settles it 💀
└ user5 exactly 😭
user6 imagine if he was actually dating her and just said this
└ user7 that would be the funniest thing ever
user8 no because imagine lying straight to everyone's face
└ user9 max would never 😭
└ user10 he looked way too amused
user11 honestly he's probably just tired of hearing it
user12 i still don't know where that rumor even came from
└ user13 literally because they're friends with charles???
└ user14 and they both live in monaco
└ user15 people ran with it for no reason
user16 wait because if i WAS secretly dating the princess i'd answer exactly like this
└ user17 😭😭😭
└ user18 stop feeding the delusions
user19 i'm sorry but this somehow convinced me more
└ user20 HOW
└ user19 because why did he laugh first
└ user21 because the rumor is ridiculous 😭
└ user22 exactly
user23 imagine princess yn watching this interview
└ user24 she's probably laughing too
└ user25 honestly i need her reaction
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, user1 and 234,948 others
charles_leclerc Recently.
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user1 CHARLES?????
user2 THAT IS LITERALLY MAX AND PRINCESS YN
user3 NO WAY 😭
user4 WAIT A DAMN MINUTE
user5 max just said dating her was the craziest rumor he's ever heard
└ user6 AND NOW THIS???
└ user7 HELLO???
user8 zooming in immediately
user9 THAT'S THEM
user10 THAT IS ACTUALLY THEM
user11 charles accidentally hard launching his friends 😭
user12 I'M CRYING
user13 somebody save slide 4 before he notices
└ user14 TOO LATE I ALREADY DID
user15 MAX YOU LIAR
user16 😭😭😭
THIS POST HAS BEEN DELETED
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
replies:
user1 OH THEY'RE COOKED
user2 if it was innocent why delete it 😭
user3 exactly
user4 CHARLES LECLERC YOU HAVE CHANGED THE COURSE OF HISTORY
user5 max is currently on his way to charles' apartment as we speak
user6 charles is never beating the allegations that he can't keep a secret
user7 i'm sorry but deleting it made this ten times worse
user8 way worse 😭
user9 all he had to do was leave the post up
user10 now i'm convinced
───────── ౨ৎ ─────────
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 2,094,958 others
yourinstagram A few moments lately 🤍
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alexandrasaintmleux The first point is important
└ charles_leclerc I don't appreciate this slander
└ yourinstagram And yet
└ charles_leclerc 😐
user1 OH MY GOD
user2 SHE KNOWS
user3 "do not trust charles with secrets" 😭😭😭
user4 YOUR HIGHNESS PLEASE
user5 THERE IS NO WAY THIS IS A COINCIDENCE
user6 charles accidentally exposing people and then getting called out publicly is killing me
user7 "monaco is surprisingly small"
user8 OH SHE'S EVIL
user9 SHE'S READING THE TWEETS
user10 i know she and max are somewhere laughing at us
└ user11 don't start
user12 no because that notes app screenshot feels targeted 😭
user13 charles is never recovering from this
└ user14 honestly? deserved
user15 i need to know what happened in the group chat after that post got deleted
user16 MAX LIKED THIS BYEEEE
user17 this is way too funny specially when you remember that she's a ROYAL PRINCESS
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, carmenmmundt and 1,938,439 others
f1 Royal visit. 👑🇲🇨 Princess YN of Monaco arrives at the paddock ahead of the Monaco Grand Prix.
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user1 THE PRINCESS HAS ARRIVED
user2 monaco gp weekend officially started 😭
user3 she looks so good omg
user4 home race for charles and the princess
user5 every year she somehow steals the show
user6 watch the cameras find her every five seconds 😭
user7 monaco's favorite daughter
user8 can't wait for the annual princess yn paddock content
user9 somewhere charles is already looking for her
user10 the real question is how long until she gets photographed talking to max
└ user11 DON'T START
└ user12 i'm serious 😭
└ user13 after this week every photo is getting investigated
user14 if max appears in the background i'm deleting my account
└ user15 see you tomorrow
└ user16 😭😭😭
user17 OH THIS IS ABOUT TO GET INTERESTING
user18 coolest princess ever fr
user19 charles deleting that post made everything worse
└ user20 WAY WORSE
└ user21 i still can't believe he actually deleted it
user22 charles leclerc the man that accidentally launched a thousand conspiracy theories
liked by user1, user2 and 65,948 others
f1gossip MAX VERSTAPPEN AND PRINCESS YN OF MONACO. WE REPEAT. MAX VERSTAPPEN AND PRINCESS YN OF MONACO.
After months of rumors, fan theories, deleted Instagram posts, suspicious comments, mysterious appearances, and one very unfortunate Charles Leclerc photo dump...
It appears the internet may have been right.
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user1 OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD
user2 EVERYBODY STAY CALM
user3 I AM NOT CALM
user4 CHARLES LECLERC YOU ARE NEVER SEEING HEAVEN
user5 i can't believe my eyes are actually seeing this
user6 oh god he's really dating a PRINCESS
user7 i just fell to my knees at walmart
user8 I SPENT SIX MONTHS DEFENDING THIS RELATIONSHIP TO PEOPLE WHO CALLED ME DELUSIONAL
user9 APOLOGIZE TO THE CONSPIRACY THEORISTS RIGHT NOW
user10 max looked us in the eyes and said it was the craziest rumor he'd ever heard
user11 they must be dating for like a year now
user12 THEY WERE LAUGHING AT US THE WHOLE TIME
user13 of course the rumors were real
user14 MAX VERSTAPPEN DATING A PRINCESS??A
user15 this is not real
user16 but HOW
user17 i love this bye
user18 THEY WEREN'T EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT
user19 NO BECAUSE WE ALL THOUGHT THEY WERE JUST FRIENDS
user20 oh i know charles is livinggg
user21 CHARLES ACCIDENTALLY HARD LAUNCHED THEM WEEKS AGO
user22 i manifested this
user23 i've been staring at this for hours and i still can't believe it's real
user24 THIS IS THE FUNNIEST POSSIBLE WAY THIS COULD HAVE BEEN CONFIRMED
user25 THE FOUR-TIME WORLD CHAMPION IS DATING A PRINCESS
user26 THIS SOUNDS LIKE FANFICTION
user27 ACTUALLY IT SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE FANFICTION
user28 SOMEBODY CHECK ON CHARLES
user29 no. fucking. way
user30 charles is currently turning off his pone
user31 IMAGINE BEING MAX VERSTAPPEN
user32 IMAGINE BEING PRINCESS YN
user33 IMAGINE BEING THE PERSON WHO TWEETED "WHAT IF IT'S ACTUALLY MAX"
user34 THEY WON
user35 THEY WON SO HARD
user36 MONACO GRAND PRIX WEEKEND HAS PEAKED
user37 THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE RACE
liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 4,093,240 others
maxverstappen1 P3 in Monaco and the best part of the weeknd
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ser1 wait HE posted it???
user2 oh my god 😭
user3 NO WAY
user4 i'm sorry but this is actually insane
user5 the princess of monaco and max verstappen was not on my 2026 bingo card
user6 remember when everyone said the rumors were ridiculous
└ user7 and then it turned out every single rumor was true 😭
user8 I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE THIS
user9 max and a princess. WHAT
user10 i know charles is somewhere relieved this is public now
user11 max saying it was the craziest rumor he'd ever heard about himself is taking me OUT
└ user12 meanwhile he was dating her the whole time
user13 THIS IS JUST INSANE
user14 they were laughing at all of us
user15 the fact that the conspiracy theorists got everything right
└ user16 every. single. thing.
user17 wait because wasn't she commenting on his posts this entire time?
└ user18 yes 😭
user19 "told you it'd be a good weekend 🤍"
└ user20 don't remind me
user21 i genuinely thought they were just friends
└ user22 same
user23 not max hard launching with a kissing picture
user24 not max hard launching with a PRINCESS
user25 honestly good for them
user26 they look really happy
user27 this has to be one of the wildest f1 relationship reveals ever
user28 a world champion dating a princess sounds fake
user29 it literally sounds like a wattpad story
charles_leclerc Thank God finally
└ user30 FINALLY???
└ user31 charles has been waiting for this day 😭
└ user32 he's free from keeping the secret
alexandrasaintmleux ❤️
└ user33 alex knew EVERYTHING
└ user34 of course she did
yourinstagram ❤️🤍
└ user35 your highness that is NOT enough information
user36 we're going to need a statement, a timeline, and the group chat screenshots
Summary: You post a very serious, very important Instagram post dedicated to your boyfriend. Unfortunately, the boyfriend in question is Lando.
Warnings: fluff, public relationship, chaotic boyfriend behaviour, drivers being menaces in the comments
A/N: hiii, so this is my first social media fic for lando, I hope you guys enjoy. Let me know if you’d like more of these cos I had so much fun making this one 🥰
📍somewhere causing problems
👤 lando
liked by lando, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and 287,441 others
yourusername my emergency contact btw
comments:
lando AYOOO
lando WHAT IS THIS
lando delete this rn
↳ yourusername nah
user THIS IS THE MAN WE TRUST TO DRIVE AT 200mph
user why does he look like he eats crayons and bites
↳ yourusername he does
user I would hang up and try again
user not the fisheye one PLEASE
maxverstappen1 I would not trust him to order food correctly
↳ lando you literally got lost in your own apartment once
↳ maxverstappen1 that was ONE TIME
charles_leclerc he looks happy 😊
↳ yourusername that’s not the point
↳ charles_leclerc i think it is good emergency energy 👍🏼
oscarpiastri I’ve seen worse
↳ yourusername drop them pastry
↳ oscarpiastri no I don’t think I will
mclarenf1 we can confirm he does answer his phone
↳ yourusername debatable
↳ lando I ALWAYS ANSWER
↳ mclarenf1 unless he’s gaming
↳ lando ok relax
user she said btw like this is casual information
user imagine paramedics scrolling through these
lando I am actually very reliable in emergencies
↳ yourusername you once left your passport at home
↳ lando irrelevant and old news
carlossainz55 at least he can drive fast to the hospital
↳ yourusername true actually
↳ lando THANK YOU CARLOS
user this is the soft launch of “I tolerate him”
↳ yourusername I more than tolerate unfortunately
↳ lando unfortunately???
👤 yourusername
liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, quadrant, and 401,003 others
lando mine btw
yourusername DELETE THIS RIGHT NOW
↳ lando no ❤️
↳ yourusername LANDO
↳ lando emergency contact behaviour
user HE SAID MINE BTW
user oh this is war
mclarenf1 we’re staying out of this
yourusername I trusted you
↳ lando that was your first mistake
↳ yourusername I’m changing your contact photo
↳ lando to what
↳ yourusername fisheye lando
↳ lando don’t you dare
user currently making an edit of fisheye lando to romantic music
↳ lando please no
↳ maxfewtrell TAG ME
↳ yourusername AND ME
yourusername for legal reasons he does actually answer the phone every time
↳ lando every. time.
↳ yourusername unless he’s gaming
↳ lando ok that was one time
lando she can post whatever she wants I’m still picking up if she calls ❤️ liked by yourusername
includes : angst, shouting, arguments, misunderstandings, doctor!reader for charles
Lando Norris
Lando never really had the best track record when it came to taking criticism or being under pressure. As soon as he heard something negative, he’d immediately put up walls to protect his ego. It came out as defensiveness, words thrown faster than he could think. He was always too prideful to step back yet too overwhelmed to admit he might be wrong. It was no different when it came to your relationship.
It had been hours of going back and forth, voices raised, patience worn thin, the crux of it being his absence. Missed dates, shorter replies, the growing distance between you, all of which you tried to gently bring up. With the championship fight and the expectations everybody had, you understood that the pressure he was under was eating away at him. Maybe that’s why he snapped so easily, why every word from you felt like another reminder that he wasn’t doing enough. Not only was he failing as a driver, but as a boyfriend too—and Lando hated failing. So he fought it the only way he knew how.
“Fuck! I swear Magui was never this much of a headache.”
“Maybe you should go back to her then!”
“Maybe I will!”
Lando’s chest rose and fell quickly, adrenaline still buzzing beneath his skin, the argument echoing in his ears—but something shifted when you didn’t respond. His brows furrowed, the anger still lingering as he looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to yell, to scream, to say anything at all. Not because it was something you would do, but because it was what he was used to—what fights had always been like with Magui. Loud, messy, volatile. They’d shout until their voices gave out, throw words they didn’t mean just to see who would break first, only to come back hours later and pretend none of it had mattered. It was easier that way—easier to fall back into each other than to confront what had actually gone wrong. But this was nothing like that.
And as he looked at you now, tears quietly gathered in your eyes, standing there without raising your voice, without fighting back, he realized—he crossed a line—a line he didn’t know how to come back from.
Your lips parted slightly, like you were about to say something, but nothing came out. Just a quiet, shaky breath as your gaze dropped to the floor, like you were trying to hold yourself together in front of him. And just like that, the anger drained out of him all at once. In its place was immense guilt mixed in a flurry of panic.
“Hey…” he called out, voice a stark contrast from just a second ago as his hands hovered over you unsure. His heart beat more frantically with each second that passed. As a soft sob tumbled out of your lips, he felt his stomach twist.
“Hey—no, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that, okay? That was just—I was mad. I didn’t mean it like that. I just—I said it to get a reaction, alright? I wasn’t actually—”
“Considering it?” you finished for him, your expression tightening. You weren’t too sure what hurt more—being compared to his ex, or how easily her name had come up as an option, like it was an easier choice than staying. It sat wrong in your stomach. “You can’t just say things like that, Lando…”
“I was pissed!” he snapped, frustration creeping back in—not at you this time, but at himself, at the situation, at how badly he’d handled everything. “You kept going on about me not being there, like I don’t already know that!”
“Do you think I enjoy begging for your love like it’s something I have to earn? I’m telling you this because I care about us, because I wanted to fix it. But if loving you means being compared to someone else—like you’d run back to her the second I fall short…then maybe this isn’t something worth fixing at all.”
And just like that, his blood turned ice cold, body frozen while you hurry past him into your shared bedroom.
He frantically reaches for you, but you quickly slip from his hold, “I don’t want her. I don’t—(Y/N)!”
You shut the door with a loud bang, and the silence after draped over the room like a velvet curtain, muffling even the faintest whispers. As he stood alone in the quiet, he realized how badly he’d fucked up this time, running a hand through his dark curls.
Oscar Piastri
The McLaren driver was known for his calm, almost unshakable composure on and off track. Even under immense pressure, he never rushed into reaction, choosing instead to pause for a moment and think, to understand before he spoke. It was one of the things you loved most about him, with arguments typically consisting of calm understanding instead of venomous words spilled in the moment.
But like fetid gasoline feeding a fire already out of control, that same stillness could be maddening. Especially now, as you paced the living room, while he simply watched as if this were just another problem for him to solve.
The media had been getting to you lately. Their constant claims that your absence from the paddock meant you didn’t care enough about your boyfriend’s career grew harder to ignore. But the truth was, it was his decision to keep you away from that part of his life—far from the paparazzi, far from the drama. He said it was safer this way, told you to ignore it, that it was all just noise. But it was easier said than done. And with each passing day, the comments only grew louder—more speculative and more absurd than the last, with your want to join him in his upcoming race growing along with it.
“Please, Oscar. I’ll stay low, try not to get too much attention. You won’t even know I’m there,” you begged for what was the nth time that night.
“No, that’s literally impossible. I don’t want you to get mauled by a bunch of people with cameras. End of discussion,” he said with a tone of finality to his words.
Your jaw tightened, a bitter laugh escaping you. “So how long do you expect me to sit here, Oscar? I don’t want our relationship to be some secret you’re trying to hide—Like I’m something you’re ashamed of.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes had squeezed shut for a brief second, as if he could will the tension away.
“You’re making this into something it’s not,” he replied, trying to keep his voice low and controlled. “Trust me, I’m only trying to make things easier.”
Oscar wasn’t too keen on the idea of people prying into his life more than they already do, and even more so on his relationship. You had reassured him countless times that you understood it came with loving him, that you were prepared for the attention, the questions, the constant curiosity. You told him you could handle it. But no matter how many times you said it, it never quite sat right with him. He knew how invasive they could be, how quickly curiosity could turn into scrutiny, and keeping you as far from it as possible was his way of protecting you from everything that came with dating him. Even if it meant keeping you at a distance.
“Easier for who?” you shot back, hands gesturing wildly through the air. “Because it’s definitely not easy for me. I’m the one dealing with it—every comment, every assumption. I’m the one being told I don’t care about you when I’m literally asking to be there!"
“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal. I’m doing this for you,” he muttered, almost to himself. He took a deep breath, letting out a laboured sigh. His control had frayed and for a second, Oscar lost his composure. And before he could stop his tongue, it slipped.
“God, this was never a problem with Lily...” A beat of hush fell over the room, so thick it was suffocating for both of you. You stared at him in disbelief as all the fight in you dissolved in an instant.
“…What?” you whispered, his words hitting harder than anything he’d said so far. You weren’t a stranger to the name. It was his ex, the one fans never failed to compare you to. The mystery beauty that complimented his silence, the perfect engineer girlfriend to the racing driver boyfriend. You’d spent so long trying not to let it get to you, brushing off the comments, the comparisons, the way people spoke about her like she was something you were meant to measure up to. But hearing it from him was a type of hurt not even the criticism of a thousand fans could measure up to.
His head lifted slightly, like he hadn’t quite registered what he’d said at first—like the realization came a second too late. But it did come. And by then, it was already too late. And he can’t help but feel a tug on his heart as you take a step back from him, the small distance between you now feeling like a chasm. He stood up, arms lifting slightly—not enough to reach for you, not enough to touch—but hovering there, uncertain, like one wrong move might push you even further away.
“I didn’t mean tha—”
“Then what did you mean?” you asked, your voice breaking despite your best effort. “Because it sounds like I’m too much for you. Like caring about you, wanting to be part of your life, is somehow… inconvenient.”
What he once tried to keep as a civil discussion has now quickly turned into a landmine with just a moment of miscalculation. He opens his mouth but immediately stops himself, fearing that he may say that wrong thing again. But that silence, that hesitation, was possibly worse, for it was an empty space your mind filled in for yourself. Your laugh came out hollow, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to give yourself a semblance of comfort.
“Right. I think I get it now,” you murmured, glassy eyes drifting to the hardwood floor, unable to meet his gaze. But he so desperately wanted you to—because in the moments where he didn’t know what to do, you always did. You always knew what to say, how to move forward, how to steady him when everything felt like it was slipping through his fingers. That was what he loved about you, how you wordlessly took control when he couldn’t anymore. And now, as he stood there searching for something—anything—to fix what he’d just broken, you stayed quiet.
“I know you don’t want the media involved. But that’s your life… and I’ve made peace with the fact that it comes with you.” You paused, biting your lip as a stray tear fell down by the apples of your cheek. “I want to love you loudly, Oscar. I want the whole world to know just how happy you make me. But I won't stand here and be compared to someone just because I love you differently than she did.”
You didn’t look at him, didn’t offer a single word to soften the blow. You just stood there, quiet, distant, like you had already taken a step back from him in a way he couldn’t follow. Oscar opened his mouth, the words sitting right there—an apology, an explanation, anything that could pull you back—but nothing came out.
Before he could speak, you quietly turned and walked back to the bedroom. As you shut the door behind you, the soft click of the lock echoed far louder than any slam ever could. And on the other side, Oscar stood there, staring at the closed door as the weight of everything settled in all at once, mind already clamoring on how to fix this.
Max Verstappen
Max wasn’t the type to sugarcoat things. Where others softened their words or thought things through twice—Max said it as it was. He was honest and direct, sometimes too direct. But in times of thoughtless anger, that same honesty could easily be formed into sharp daggers, callous to how deep it may cut or whom it may hit. And you were no exception.
“You’re not listening to me,” you snapped, frustration finally spilling over.
“I am listening,” Max shot back immediately, tone sharp. “You’re just repeating the same thing over and over again!”
“Because you’re not getting it!”
“No, I don’t!” he said, exhaling harshly. “Schatje, it’s one dinner. There’s gonna be a bunch more.”
“It's dinner with my family, Max. You know how long they’ve been waiting to meet you. And with your impossible schedule, it’s probably going to be another year before you can fit them in,” you argued.
You’d planned this dinner months ago, carefully working around his race calendar, shifting dates, doing everything you could just to make sure he could be there. It was the first time your family would finally meet him—something they’d been asking about for far too long—and despite how unpredictable his schedule was, he’d promised he’d try. And for a while, you let yourself believe that this time he actually would.
He rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re acting like I’m never going to meet them. It’s a race weekend and right now I just want to rest. You know how this works.”
“And you knew about this dinner,” you countered immediately, no plans of backing down.
With that, the last thread of his patience finally snapped, frustration spilling over before he could stop it. Max felt it instantly—the rush of adrenaline, the narrowing of focus, everything else fading into the background. It was the same clarity he had on track, when instinct took over and hesitation meant losing. And right now, that instinct didn’t know the difference between racing and you.
“God, why does everything have to be such a big deal with you?” he screamed, his hands flailing through the air as if it would help him make his point. “I swear Kelly never made any of this complicated.”
Your voice went quiet, stopping dead in your tracks the moment you heard her name. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
You knew exactly what he meant. She was the daughter of a former Formula 1 World Champion—someone who grew up around this world, who understood the sacrifices without needing them explained. She fit into it seamlessly.
But that didn’t mean you hadn’t been trying. Max knew that. He saw it every time you brushed off his cancellations, never complained, told your family he was “just busy,” reshaped your plans around him and stayed by his side even when it felt like there was no place for you in his ever-changing schedule. And yet here he was, reducing all of that to “complicated”.
“All I’m saying is she was never so fucking needy. Even with a kid, I didn’t have to keep choosing between everything and her. She didn’t make everything into a problem but with you there’s always something. I’m already under pressure, I don’t need more of it when I come home.”
With every word that left his lips, it felt like another cut carved into your already broken heart, until finally—
“Well now you don’t have to.”
And just like that, the battle was over with neither of you emerging as the winner. Max looked at you, still heaving, and for the first time since it started, he was at a loss for words. Only the quiet realization of what had just been lost in the heat of trying to win. Through blurred vision, you grabbed your bag and made your way to the door, making sure to slam it on your way out.
Max blinked once, like he hadn’t fully processed what you’d said. It was like watching a crash. A battle of instinct and pride, of words thrown too fast and too hard, until one of you finally spun off track. And now there was only the wreckage. Not of a race, but of something far harder to fix.
“Fuck... godverdomme” he mumbled, sitting down on the couch with his head in his hands.
Charles Leclerc
Charles had never been good at keeping the people he loved at a distance. He liked having them close where he could see them, reach for them, know they were there. So being with someone whose schedule was as flexible as plywood quickly became the root of many of your problems.
You had built your life long before him. Years of relentless studying, sleepless nights, and exhausting shifts had led you to the life you lived now—standing in hospital halls at ungodly hours, tending to people at their most fragile, putting their lives before your own.
You weren’t about to let that go. Not for anyone. Not even him.
“I’m sorry, mon amour,” you murmured softly, already tired from the day you just had and the fight draining whatever strength you had left. You stared up at him as you rubbed circles onto the temple of your head, trying to relieve the building headache. “I really can’t come to this one. I have—”
“Another patient, another shift, I know,” Charles cut in, his voice softer than yours—but edged with something you couldn’t quite ignore. “It’s always something.”
You paused, the words catching in your throat.
“It’s not just something, Charles, it’s my job.”
“I know that. I’m not saying it’s not important, I just—” He exhaled, the sound heavy like it was a weight he'd been carrying for too long “I just thought maybe this time you could try. It’s been weeks since you’ve come to one.”
Guilt flickered in your chest. It gutted you how you couldn't be there for him like either of you wanted to, instead forced to support the Monegasque from miles away. “And trust me, I really want to be there. But people need me—”
“And I don’t?” The words came out sharper than he intended, and he winced almost immediately after.
He knew it was selfish of him to think that. He absolutely adored what you did—how passionate you were, how you gave so much of yourself to people who needed it most. He wasn’t a stranger to sacrifice, but what you did was something else entirely. Selfless in a way he could never quite put into words. Never for the money. Never for the recognition you deserved. Just there to help.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he added quickly, softer now. “I know what you do matters, I’ve always known that.”
Silence lingered between the two of you, heavier now.
“I’m just…not used to this” he exhaled, the sound tired, conflicted. “With Alex, I didn’t have to ask this much before.”
Your breath hitched, just barely, like your body reacted before your mind could catch up.
“With Alex…” You repeated it softly, like you were testing how it sounded out loud. Like maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much the second time. But no matter how many times you repeated it in your head, it did.
Alexandrea Saint Mleux, art history graduate, influencer, fashion icon and Charles’ ex. The woman who was almost always photographed beside Charles back when they were dating. She was there for the races, the events, the cameras—always just a step behind him. Which meant that when she left, there was a space beside him that sat empty. He told you that your love and support was enough, that it made every second with you even more special. But standing here now, hearing her name fall so easily from his lips, it didn’t feel like enough.
“I see.”
“Hey—no, that’s not what I meant,” Charles rushed out immediately, the shift in your tone making him realize how much he’d underestimated his words. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”
“No, it’s okay. I understand.” you cut in gently.
Not angry. Not loud. And somehow, that made it worse. Charles faltered, his words catching in his throat as he watched you. The way your shoulders had gone still, the way your voice had softened into something distant, and how your already tired figure seemed to deflate even more because of him.
“I can’t be there the way she was. I can’t just drop everything and follow you around the world, and I won’t pretend that I can,” your voice remained steady despite the glassy sheen in your eyes. “And I’m not going to apologize for having a life outside of you. For having something that matters to me just as much as racing does to you. But I’ve been trying. Trying to show up when I can, trying to make time, trying to be there in the ways that I’m able to.”
Your lips pressed together.
“But I’m not her. And I shouldn’t have to feel like that makes me less… like I’m not enough for you.”
“You are enough. You’ve always been enough, I swear—” he said quickly, stepping closer now, panic starting to seep into his voice before you cut him off.
“But it doesn’t feel like it. Not to you, not to me…” you whispered.
“Mon amour…” he murmured, his voice breaking in a way it rarely did. He reached for you, hesitating just before his hand could touch you.
“I’m going out for a bit. I think…we need some time to think about where this is going.” You stood up and grabbed your coat by the rack, slipping it on with slightly trembling fingers as you adjusted the fabric, avoiding his gaze.
Your hand hovered over the door handle for a second, hope flickering in his chest that maybe you'd turn back around. But that was quickly extinguished as you walked out the door, the click echoing far louder than it should have. And when it shut behind you, it left Charles standing there, staring at the space you once filled.
Carlos Sainz
It was no secret that the Spaniard was one of if not the most attractive man on the grid. Dark tousled hair that always just fell in that perfect way, brown eyes that could leave you mesmerized if you stared too long, and a body that looks like it was chiseled by God himself.
Ever since you started dating a few months ago, you watched as women threw themselves at Carlos, fawning and sometimes blatantly flirting with him as you walked by his side in the paddock.
You tried not to let it bother you, knowing where his heart truly lay. It was through small gestures—like how his hand would instinctively find yours or the way his gaze would always drift back to you no matter who stood in front of him—that helped eased your worries. It was enough reassurance in a world that constantly tried to pull his attention elsewhere.
But today was just different. The fans were more…handsy. And so, throughout the day, you found yourself holding his hand a bit tighter or pressing up against him a bit more. It all came into a boiling point once you got back into the comfort of your hotel.
“Mi amor, is everything okay? You’ve been distant all day.” His warmth envelops you as he hugs you from behind, his touch bringing a sense of comfort to your inner turmoil.
You let out a quiet breath, arms crossing over your chest as you leaned back against him, the weight of everything finally settling in now that it was just the two of you.
“It’s nothing, Carlos…” you murmured.
He frowned slightly, resting his head on top of yours. “It’s clearly something if it’s troubling you this much, Cariño.”
You bit your lip in embarrassment, knowing it sounded small when you tried to say it out loud. Some may say petty even. But this wasn’t small to you, and you didn’t want to pretend it didn’t loom over your shoulder every time you went out.
“It’s just… Earlier with the fans...” you trailed off, fingers tightening slightly against your arms as you searched for the right words.
Carlos stilled behind you for a moment, a sudden spike of worry hitting him. “What about them?”
Had someone said something to you while he wasn’t listening? Gotten too close when his back was turned? Touched you when he wasn’t there to stop it? A long list of worst case scenarios started to form in his head as you took your precious time thinking of your next words.
You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. “The way they were acting. The way they kept touching you…” you swallowed. “It just felt a little too much.”
He let out a quiet breath of relief, the tension in his shoulders easing as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his touch gentle, grounding. “Amor… they’re just fans,” he murmured. “They get excited. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I know,” you nodded quickly, almost too quickly. “And I’m trying to get used to it. I just don’t like the thought of other women practically fondling my boyfriend in front of me, you know?”
He hummed in agreement, holding you tighter and listening attentively as you poured your heart to him. He was neither trying to disregard your feelings nor defend their actions. Having to watch women swoon over your lover every day was no easy sight, and if he were in your shoes, he definitely wouldn’t be as kind nor patient as you are now.
“I’m not asking you to push them away,” you said softly, turning slightly in his hold, just enough to glance up at him. “I’m just asking for some sort of boundary”
“I understand. I’m sorry,” he murmured softly. “Becca never really had a problem with it, and I assumed you wouldn’t either.” His voice was gentle, no hint of malice in sight—but the words themselves didn’t carry the same warmth. Your hands gently pushed against his chest, the way your body went stiff in his hold not going unnoticed.
“Becca?” you whispered, your face unable to hide the faint pang of hurt at the mention of her name.
You’d never admit it, but you had always envied how easily she seemed to handle it all—the attention, the fans, the constant eyes on him. She had looked so secure, so sure of herself, so certain of her place beside him, like she belonged there without ever having to question it. And you… you weren’t. Not in the same way.
You couldn’t quite shake the thought that he could find someone better—someone prettier, someone who fit into his world without hesitation, someone who didn’t have to learn how to stand beside him. So hearing her name now didn’t just sting, it was a quiet confirmation of something you had been trying so hard not to believe.
“I see…” you mumbled, your throat suddenly feeling dry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was asking for that much.”
His brows furrowed in confusion as he gently pulled back, just enough to get a better look at you. And despite how you tried to hide it, he didn’t miss the slight gloss in your eyes, the way your lashes clung together as the tears began to gather.
Panic set in almost instantly.
“Hey—no, no, no,” he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that had already begun to fall. “Mi vida, what are you talking about?”
But you only shook your head faintly, your hands coming up to wrap around his wrists—not to pull him closer, but to still them. The worst part was that the poor man had no idea what he’d said to make you so upset. Because while the name might have meant absolutely nothing to him, it meant everything to you.
Before he could pry any further, you quickly slipped away to your shared room, head hung low as your palm muffled the small sobs that escaped. Now he was left alone standing in the living room utterly confused.
an: Gosh dang this took me a while to make. As always, hope you guys liked it! Would love to hear your thoughts, whatever it might be. Toodles <3
summary: things are going great with your boyfriend of three years, lando norris. or at least that is what you think. your step-brother oscar has a different opinion.
warnings: SMUT!!!! cheating, step sibling trope, he refers to himself as her brother like twice, but it’s more so ironic and bitter than a FR thing ya know? forbidden romance, THEY DID NOT GROW UP TG!! public sex, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, creampies, cum play, p in v, unprotected sex, pwp, language
wc: 7.6k
title: moth to a flame— the weeknd
a/n: hi, this is my humble introduction to the world of f1 smut. i hope you enjoy this as much as i did :3 im very open to requests and feedback from anyone!!!
The chaos of a race weekend never ceases to amaze you. Nobody ever stops; everyone is always on the move, fixing something, changing something — someone always has somewhere to be. There is never a lull, especially not for a championship-contending team.
Lounging in the McLaren hospitality room, you pretend to nurse a cold lemonade that only really sits before you tauntingly. Spain is hotter than you expected for the middle of June, though you’re still trying to adjust to the fact that the seasons are flipped here.
Your step-sister, Edie, sits beside you, eyes trained on her phone. She’s chewing on the corner of her lip, completely uninterested in the world. But that’s just always been Edie — too cool for any of the happenings around her.
Your mother married her father about five years ago, and the new family dynamic is something you’re still trying to get used to. There’s too much going on, going from a small-town life to suddenly being included in the family photos of a Formula One driver.
You watch through the television hoisted up in the corner of the room, the final moments of the last free practice wrapping up.
“He’s looking good,” you murmur, more to yourself than Edie. “Think he’s got a good shot this weekend.”
Edie finally blinks up from her phone, her brown eyes landing on yours. They’re the same shade as his. “Probably,” she smiles, shrugging casually. “We’ll find out after quali. He’s had a good shot this year in general.”
You nod, tearing your eyes from the screen. The season has seemingly kept everyone on their toes — with how close Oscar is to his teammate, it’s bound to be an eventful weekend.
Any gap he can get is well appreciated.
Lando is everything. He’s happy, he’s charming, and he’s yours. The complicated nature of the situation is not lost on you, but how were you to know that your boyfriend of three years would end up being your stepbrother’s teammate?
Your relationship with Oscar was already complicated enough.
The day goes by the same, lingering beside your mother and Edie as you watch Oscar finish up practice, and later as he manages to secure pole position. Edie was right — this is looking to be a wonderful weekend.
—
Your eyes are somehow always on him.
In the garage, with the over-ear headset sitting heavy on your head, even as Lando smiles down at you, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to your lips.
It’s always Oscar you’re aware of.
“I know you don’t like it when I say this,” Lando pulls back, smiling sheepishly. “But I think I can take this race home. I feel it.”
You can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes you, your hands caressing his broad shoulders. The way his fireproof shirt stretches across his chest is almost dizzying.
His blue eyes search yours, eagerly awaiting your response.
“I think you’ll do great, my love,” you agree, smiling despite yourself. Lando always had a way of melting any anxiety you had. “And remember, we have my parents’ anniversary next week. You said you’d come.”
Lando’s hands settle on your waist. “And I will,” he promises. “Though, with the championship fight we have right now, I’m not entirely sure your family will be all that happy to have me there.”
Rolling your eyes, you lean forward and kiss him. “It’ll be fine.”
You feel his eyes first, the burning gaze raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Mechanics run around, getting ready to let the drivers inside their cars.
Lando hasn’t noticed, opting to wrap his arms around your waist and bring you close.
Oscar is on the other side of the garage, pulling the white balaclava over his face with entirely too much force. His brown eyes are trained on you, flicking down to where Lando’s hands rest on your waist.
You don’t say anything, and neither does he.
“Alright, I need to get going,” Lando announces, pulling back before pecking your lips one last time. “I’ll see you after. Wish me luck.”
You give him a tight-lipped smile, turning away. Your eyes catch on the other car, but then you’re slipping away.
You sit between your mother and Edie, the headset heavy on your head as you watch the cars begin to be rolled into position. It’s just a race, but your heart is already pounding.
Things with Oscar were never normal. They weren’t normal when your mother introduced you to his family — the son of a dashing businessman with three daughters and an ambitious young son.
It was charged from the start: the looks lingered too long, the jokes hit too hard, the hands hovered more than they should have. He was handsome — the dreamy way his hair fell over his eyes, the way his face seemed to glow whenever he was happy.
And then the wedding happened.
Your mum wanted an extravagant celebration, with too much flair, food, and drinks. You lingered around Oscar the most, partially because you appreciated the quiet he always seemed to enjoy.
As the night went on, the two of you moved to a less crowded part of the venue. The drinks kept flowing, the space kept disappearing.
And then you were crashing against the bed — his bed.
Oscar’s body moved against yours like a well-practiced dance, fucking you into the mattress until sunrise. He made you come so many times that your legs ached for days after.
The horror lingered. He hadn’t even been your stepbrother for more than twenty-four hours, and already you were falling into bed with him. What would his family think? What would your mother think?
It went on for far longer than you would have liked to admit. The rendezvous between races grew more frequent, and the secret kept eating at you.
But you couldn’t stop. No matter how much you told yourself you wanted it to, your body always betrayed you. Always.
Then one day, while accompanying Oscar to one of his Formula 2 races, you met him. Lando was a young, charismatic driver with three seasons already under his belt, and McLaren loved him.
And soon enough, you did too.
He swept you off your feet without really trying. His laugh, his humor — everything about him was perfect. Especially the part where he isn’t your stepbrother.
It gave you enough of an excuse to end whatever mess you had going on with Oscar, much to his dismay. Much to yours, though he would never hear you admitting that.
Then McLaren signed Oscar for the following season.
For the last three years, you had worked tirelessly to keep what happened between you and Oscar from coming to light. Nobody knew; nobody could know. Especially not your family. Especially not Lando.
Especially not when the word engagement had been thrown around more than once.
The race is good, but your mind isn’t in it. Not at all. Oscar wins, and Lando is rightfully miffed about it. He’s still on the podium, he still celebrates — but you know the championship sits heavily on his mind.
Oscar looks at you the entire time.
You still think you’re with the winner?
You clench your jaw.
Lando doesn’t take long to find you, and the strained smile he sends your way is already putting you on edge. He has a tendency to be hard on himself, and this is probably not an ideal situation.
He smells like champagne, and in any other circumstance, you know this would be a cause for celebration. Instead, you wrap your arms around him and give him a firm squeeze.
“It’s okay,” you whisper. “You still have the entire season, baby. You still have a shot.”
He pulls away, his eyes meeting yours. At first, he doesn’t say anything, but eventually he lets out a defeated sigh. “It’s gonna be hard to shake, but I’ll try.”
You grin. “That’s all I ask.”
Eventually, he slips away to do some interviews, leaving you behind in the heat. You contemplate heading back to your hotel room, taking a long shower in the beautiful bathtub.
Except you don’t account for Oscar materializing beside you a few minutes later. The papaya cap sits atop his head, a pretty pink flush covering the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.
“Good to see you, Y/N,” he greets, unbothered as always. Your skin prickles at his voice, the familiar cadence you still dream about. His brown eyes are tired, but trained on you.
Straightening your shoulders, you force a smile. “Same.”
The silence stretches, and it’s too charged for your liking. “Good race,” he mentions, squirting some water from his bottle into his mouth. Your eyes follow a stray droplet that clings to the edge of his mouth, the way his tongue darts out to collect it. “Did you bet on me?”
“I didn’t bet,” you answer immediately. “I hate how unpredictable you guys are. I don’t think I would ever put money on any of you.”
Oscar’s eyebrows rise in amusement. “You can always bet on me,” he hums. “You know, for extra moral support.”
You narrow your eyes. “I don’t need your money.”
“You need something else,” a small smirk plays on his lips, infuriating enough to make you seethe. “You always pretend you don’t.”
“Shut up.”
Oscar looks pleased with himself, especially when your cheeks match his in color— but not from excretion. “You think he can’t tell?”
You purse your lips. “Anyone in their right mind would assume their quiet little goody two-shoes driver never fucked his step-sister.”
“Careful,” he says, but it’s halfhearted. “Someone might find out.”
“Go to hell, Osc,” you snap. Embarrassment burns through you, partially because you know he’s right. He doesn’t care if people find out, not like you do.
He loves to remind you that you didn’t grow up together, that there’s no blood tying you. Still, you know it’s more complicated than that.
Neither of you says anything for a beat, watching the post-race chaos reign on. For some reason, the lack of words is almost worse than having Oscar look at you with that gleam in his eye.
You clear your throat. “Congratulations on the win, by the way.”
He gives you a half smile. “Thanks. Dedicated the trophy to Edie.”
You nod. “I saw that.”
“I thought about writing your name instead,” he muses, cocking his head to the side as he waits for his words to settle on your mind.
Stiffening, you feel your traitorous heart skip a beat. “Don’t,” you warn, running a sticky hand through your hair. “You wouldn’t have, you’re just trying to piss me off.”
Oscar grins. “Is it working?”
You don’t answer. You already feel his gaze burning into you, the intensity at which he studies you. Being beneath his scrutiny burns like a thousand suns, but your body ignites with the memory of what that attention meant.
Oscar steps closer to you, and panic shoots down your spine. Your eyes dart around, panicked, as you search for any signs that you’re being watched. You find nobody has their eyes on you.
“You did always fuck better when you were pissed,” he whispers, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His fingers ghost over the crook of your elbow, making you shiver. “Made me pay for whatever it was that I did with that mouth of yours.”
Inhaling sharply, you step back, glaring. “You’re disgusting,” you hiss, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m in a relationship. It would do you good to remember that.”
Oscar backs away, his eyes never leaving you. “Do you remember that?”
He doesn’t give you the chance to answer, pivoting on his heel and disappearing into the crowd. Your heart thunders in your chest, your skin still prickling with heat.
Seems like Oscar has grown tired of being complacent, and that is the most worrying thing about it all.
—
The night is cool, as expected for a night in early June in Australia. You’re nursing a glass of champagne, Lando’s arm wrapped politely around your waist as you let the party go on around you.
Your mother is the center of attention, as expected, but you don’t really mind.
The resort that your mum chose was beautiful, truthfully. The salon is decorated with various tones of orange because apparently, she cannot get over the fact that her step-son is a Formula One driver.
It makes your jaw clench.
“I feel like I’m at a team meeting,” Lando jokes, turning to you with glimmering blue eyes. He’s already three drinks deep, and you’re starting to see him loosening up at the edges. Maybe you should be worried.
Instead, you bring your glass to your lips and take a careful sip. “Your only week off and look how you’re spending it.”
Lando shrugs. “Better than nothing,” he sighs. “I gotta get on a plane tomorrow to Canada. I should get to enjoy one night off with you, don’t you think?”
Despite your earlier annoyance, you feel some of the irritation melt at his words. You give him a half smile, cupping his face with your hand.
“You’re so cute when you’re tipsy,” you grin, thumb brushing over his cheek.
Lando scoffs. “Am not,” he grumbles. “I’m hot and sexy, and you want to take my pants off.”
You shake your head, cheeks burning as you look around to make sure nobody heard your boyfriend’s intoxicated rambles.
“If you keep drinking like that, I will have to take your pants off,” you snort, biting back a smile. “You’re gonna be too drunk to get into bed, and I’m gonna have to put you to sleep like an overgrown toddler.”
Rolling his eyes, Lando steals your drink. He takes a long sip, placing the crystal glass between your awaiting fingers.
“God forbid I want to flip a little,” he says. “You’ve been so on edge lately.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, ignoring his worry as you force yourself to shift your focus back to the guests of the party.
“‘M not tense,” you grumble.
Lando doesn’t get a chance to respond, because before you know it, your mum is waltzing over to the two of you with a big grin on her face.
And she has Oscar and his father in tow.
Your heart beats rapidly, threatening to crack your ribs with its intensity. Scrambling to grab Lando’s hand, you force a smile.
“Lando, darling!” your mum smiles, opening her arms to wrap him in an awkward hug, since you refuse to let go of his hand. “I’m glad that you made it. How are you feeling?”
Lando smiles. “Great,” he nods, glancing between your mum and Oscar’s dad. “Congratulations on the anniversary, by the way. Beautiful party.”
Oscar’s father beams. “Thank you, son,” he nods, but the corners of his mouth are tight. The tension of the season carries on to the events, and that is something that you and Lando are painfully aware of.
Oscar is quiet, his hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. He’s wearing a thin white linen button-up, his hair artfully mussed. He looks so handsome, you feel your throat go dry.
“I realized Oscar never said hi,” your Mum says, looking at him with a playfully stern expression. “So we had to drag him over so he could say hello. I know you boys are probably flying out together tomorrow, isn’t that right?”
Lando smiles, his hand squeezing your waist. “Yeah, pretty sure it is.”
Your mum nods, looking at you with a bright smile. She reaches over, fixing your hair even though you’re almost fully sure that it’s fine.
“You guys are so cute,” she shakes her head fondly. “I know the season has been rough, but I do appreciate how nice you’re being about this, Lando. Sometimes, we really do have to separate work and our personal lives. Don’t you think?”
“Jesus, Mum,” you laugh awkwardly, shifting your weight. Oscar is frowning, his eyes are dark as they burn holes into where Lando’s hand rests on your hip. You try to ignore it. “Let's not talk about that, maybe?”
“I think you’re right,” Oscar’s dad nods, clapping his son on the back. “This is a celebration. Let’s enjoy it.”
“Of course!” Mum agrees, smiling. “I was just being silly, don’t mind me. But yes, since we are here because of a wedding—”
You and Oscar stiffen, but neither of you says anything. For some reason, the idea of your mother wanting to talk about you and Lando getting married in the near future feels like being condemned to death.
“When will we see that ring?” She asks Lando, excitement evident in her words. You and Lando have discussed getting married extensively, especially after you told him that you thought getting proposed to should be a decision the two of you came to together.
You told him you were ready. But now, under the weight of Oscar’s gaze and his barely contained annoyance, you’re not sure what you want anymore.
Lando laughs awkwardly. “I dunno,” he replies. “Probably after the season ends, I guess. It’ll be nice to do it without all that stress, you know? Have a proper celebration.”
Oscar’s jaw tightens so much you worry he’s going to snap a tooth. His eyes darken into a glower, directed straight at Lando. You inhale sharply, nerves making your hands shake.
Please don’t make it obvious.
“Oh, that would be beautiful!” your Mum smiles. “I trust you have an idea?”
“I trust you keep your head in the championship,” Oscar snaps, the first word he has said to you all night. Everyone’s attention snaps back to him, and your ears start to ring.
Lando blinks. “What?”
Oscar shrugs, taking a sip of his amber drink. “You know?” he shrugs. “You want that championship? Focus on that instead.”
Your mother blinks, his father’s eyebrows rise, and you gape. There’s no way this is happening, and there’s no way Oscar is being that obvious.
“Mate, what the hell?” Lando’s eyebrows furrow, and he shifts forward. “I’m just—“
“Oh, don’t mind him!” Mum chirps, desperate to ease the sudden tension.
Oscar’s father nods. “You know how it is,” he says through a laugh. “Oscar is too used to having sisters to look after. Don’t take it personally. It’s just the older brother in him.”
Your heart sinks, and Oscar scoffs. “Sure,” he says, but his tone is bitter. “Whatever you guys say.”
He turns to leave, his dress shoes clicking against the polished ground. You hear him leave over the music. The tension in his body is evident, and the fire in his brown eyes makes something inside you snap.
You place your champagne flute in Lando’s hands. “I’m gonna go yell at him,” you smile, hoping that you sound more convincing than you feel. “I’m sorry about that. I’ll be back.”
Before anyone can question your absence, you’re already running after Oscar. Pushing past the guests, you try your best to keep up with him.
The cool night air hits you first, but you’re too warm to shiver. Your heart beats erratically as you scan the dark, vastness of the golf course surrounding the salon.
You spot Oscar’s white shirt— just barely— as it walks deeper into the darkness. Muttering a curse under your breath, you run after him.
It’s dark; the deeper you go into the hills, the less you can see. The light of the venue grows dimmer with the distance, but you manage to keep your eyes on him.
“Oscar!” You call in a frantic whisper, hands fisting the fabric of your dress and keeping it above your ankles so you don’t trip over yourself. “Stop fucking running.”
He stops in his tracks, a dark chuckle escaping him. “I’m not running,” he says, turning to face you. “You’re just slow.”
You scramble to a halt, leaning forward to rest your hands on your thighs as you struggle to catch your breath. “You’re such an asshole,” you wheeze, forcing yourself upright. “What the fuck was that?”
Oscar hesitates, his eyes flicking back to the distant roar of the party. The hills of the golf course span out around you, providing more cover than you could have expected. You can barely see your stepbrother before you, but you can feel him, and the moonlight illuminates enough for you to know that he isn’t happy.
“Nothing,” he answers eventually. “Just reminding Lando to keep his head where it matters right now.”
“No,” you breathe, shaking your head. “You were being a dick. Why were you being a dick?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, he lets the silence stretch between you. He knows how much that bothers you, the silence, the weight of everything that could be said pressing down on you.
“Answer me,” you hiss.
“Jesus,” he exhales. “You’re really fucking—”
You stiffen, waiting for the inevitable jab. It never comes. Instead, Oscar runs a hand through his hair, the stress evident in every movement.
“What?” you snap. “What could it be now? Is it because I didn’t take well to your advances in Spain? Is that it? Is your little ego hurt?”
“Shut up.”
“No,” you snap, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Stepping closer, you jab his chest. “You don’t get to shut me up. You don’t get to say anything. Is big brother feeling emasculated because I’m getting engaged?”
Oscar’s eyes flash, and his hand grips your wrist tightly, stopping your attack. “Don’t fucking call me that,” he growls, all composure flying out the window.
“That’s what you are,” you whisper, breathing heavily despite yourself. The proximity is intoxicating. Smelling his cologne has you growing dizzy with want. Your body remembers him; it always remembers him. “You heard your dad.”
“He’s wrong,” he spits, tugging you closer by the hand until your chests bump against each other. “You know he’s wrong. Or do you need me to remind you?”
You exhale, looking into his eyes. “We ended this.” Your words come out in a jumbled breath, but you don’t care. “You know we had to. This is wrong.”
Oscar smacks his lips, his eyes flickering down to your mouth. The moonlight provides enough light for you to see the way his eyes dilate.
“No, it’s not,” he whispers. “I’ve never been your brother. I’ve never wanted to be your brother. Brothers don’t look whenever you bend down to get something. Brothers don’t think about what it’s like to have you moan into my mouth. Brothers don’t think about all the ways they’ve made you scream.”
Your fight falters, and you find yourself at a loss for words. There is so much you want to say, so many rebuttals you want to send his way, but they all die in your throat.
Tearing your eyes away from him, you force yourself to look back at the party. Nobody in there knows the turmoil that unfurls in your chest, and inside is Lando, waiting for you to have talked your stepbrother back down from the ledge.
Nobody knows.
“I’m in love with him,” you whisper, but it’s so meek you want to laugh.
Oscar doesn’t move; his hand still stays wrapped around your wrist, tight enough to bruise. You can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop. You don’t want him to pull away.
“Don’t start with that,” Oscar says. “Because I’m not in the mood to be lied to and insulted in the same breath.”
You look at him. “Fuck you.”
“Say you don’t want me.” He leans closer, his breath fanning your lips. His hand lets go of yours, instead coming to grip your chin and tilt your mouth closer to his. “Say you don’t miss me.”
You don’t answer. His other hand finds your waist, and he ducks down to brush his lips along the juncture of your jaw. You shiver at the ghost of the contact, just barely enough to make your composure slip.
“Say you don’t miss the way I stretched you out.” His voice is a breathless rasp, enough to make your clit throb. “Say you don’t miss the way I fucked you so hard you couldn’t talk. How you’d drip with me for days after.”
You shut your eyes, desperately trying to stand your ground. Goosebumps break out along your skin, and a flash of heat travels down your spine. Your body is answering for you.
“Tell me you don’t miss the little thing I used to do with my tongue.” His teeth scrape against your earlobe. “Because I miss you.”
The admission is almost lost to the pounding of your heart, but you manage to catch it. Your breath catches, and your eyes meet Oscar’s intense brown ones.
“Kiss me.”
The words barely leave your lips before he’s crashing his mouth against yours in a searing kiss. You inhale sharply, his hands immediately coming to your waist and pulling you closer against him.
His mouth moves against yours with the same ease it always has, the same relaxed dominance he’s always had. He never had to question the power he has over you.
Your hands tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, tugging slightly, eliciting the most delectable little hiss. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue past his lips, exploring him deeper.
He lets go of your waist suddenly, but he never breaks the kiss. You feel his hands between the two of you, unbuttoning his shirt with shaking fingers.
Pulling away, he tugs the white fabric off his shoulders, dropping it onto the grass without a care in the world. He grabs your face with both hands, bringing your lips back to his.
“Lie down,” he orders, nipping your lip before pulling away.
You’re so dazed you can’t find it in yourself to argue, dropping on top of his shirt. He climbs over you, his hands holding him up beside your head, bringing you back into another intoxicating kiss.
His weight settles over you, familiar and erotic. Your hands come up to his shoulders, traveling the vast expanse with the tips of your fingers. His skin is so, so soft.
Oscar’s mouth coaxes yours into an intoxicating dance, lips sliding against each other’s with too much intensity. His thigh settles between your legs, pressing against where you’re already wet and aching.
You let out the smallest whimper when he increases the pressure, and you feel his hardening length against your thigh.
His hands scramble for the hem of your dress, pushing it up your legs without preamble. He breaks the kiss by pulling away, bunching the skirt around your waist. When the cool air hits your bare thighs, you shiver.
Oscar glances at the lacy pair of panties you sport, eyebrow rising as his finger slips beneath the hem, snapping it against your skin.
“Pretty.”
You let out a shaky exhale, watching as he rips them down your legs, shoving them in his pocket without any hesitation.
“Perv,” you say breathlessly, but it melts into a moan when his lips find your neck, kissing at your pulse point.
You can’t help but let out a loud moan at that. Oscar smiles against you. “You were saying?”
His hand parts your thigh, calloused against the sensitive skin. You shiver, feeling his fingers ghost up the inside of your thigh, closer and closer to where you’re already dripping for him.
“Missed this,” he whispers. “Missed how easy you get f’me, all worked up when I’m a little mean.”
His finger traces featherlight patterns over the crease of your thigh, his mouth traveling down your neck. With his other hand, he tugs the strap of your dress down, making the already swooping neckline of your dress even more indecent.
You feel his finger ghosting over your folds, not quite touching where you need him the most. You let out an impatient whine, shifting your hips in search of him.
Oscar chuckles, fully pulling down your dress until your breasts spill free. His eyes are drawn immediately to your chest.
“So fucking pretty like this,” he groans. “Bet Lando doesn’t know what to do with you, hmm?”
You don’t get to answer, because his lips wrap around your nipple. A gasp tears from your throat, feeling his teeth gently scrape against you.
Finally, two of his fingers part you open, collecting your wetness before landing on your clit. He rubs circles over you, enough to have your entire body vibrating with need.
“That’s it,” he coos as you let out a moan. His fingers work you over with the perfect pressure, his lips working on your nipple while his other hand comes up to tweak the other one. “That’s a good fucking girl. Look at you.”
His words send another wave of heat through you, and you realize that he’s moving too slowly to actually get you anywhere. He’s doing this on purpose.
“Osc,” you breathe, hips bucking involuntarily. “Please—please don’t tease me.”
“Shh,” he pulls away from your nipple, his fingers never stopping their movements before he comes up to your lips again. “You don’t get to make demands right now.”
Withdrawing his fingers, he brings them up between the two of you. You watch the way the long digits glisten with your arousal.
Oscar glances at you again. “Open.”
You do.
Bringing his hand up to your lips, he slips his fingers inside your mouth. Inductively, you suck at them, a muffled moan escaping you as your tongue laps at them hungrily.
He pulls his fingers back with a pop, smirking. Ducking down, he captures your lips in another kiss. His hand returns to your dripping pussy, this time not bothering to tease. He slips the fingers, damp with your saliva, inside you.
You gasp into his mouth, back arching as he curls his like enough to make stars spring across your vision. “Yeah, look at that,” he whispers between kisses. “Being so fucking good and taking just what I give you. You’re mine, you hear me? Fucking mine.”
Oscar pulls away, sitting back on his heels as he watches raptly as his fingers pump in and out of you. He licks his lips, bringing his other thumb to rub circles over your clit.
Your legs shake, and you can’t help but let out a shout. He scissors his fingers inside you; the stretch is delicious, enough to have your thighs shaking.
“He doesn’t make you feel like this,” he laughs darkly. “He doesn’t know how to touch you. He doesn’t know how this pussy likes to be stretched. Isn’t that right?”
He curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside you, and a whimper falls past your lips. You can’t answer, too lost in the sensation of him.
Oscar lets out a groan, pulling one of his hands back to palm at the obvious bulge that strains against his dress pants.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he bites his bottom lip.
You don’t get a warning before he’s ducking his head down and licking a stripe up your cunt, tongue catching in your clit.
You gasp, pushing yourself up to your elbows just so you can enjoy the view of him between your legs. His tongue moves with experience, lapping at you hungrily as his fingers never falter.
Your legs shake around his head, throwing your head back when his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks harshly. The sensation only builds, the feeling of his languid tongue and long fingers overwhelming you.
“Makin’ such a pretty mess on my face and fingers, baby,” he mutters against you, spearing his tongue inside you along with his fingers.
You freeze, overcome with the feeling. His nose bumps against your clit, and you feel your arousal drip out of you and down your ass. You don’t think you have ever been this wet, and the pressure between your legs is quickly becoming more overwhelming.
From between your legs, Oscar glances up at you. His eyes gleam in the lowlight, and you recognise the insatiable hunger that stares back at you.
Your stomach tightens, and you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the pinnacle. You’re moaning, throwing your head back on the grass, and biting down on your arm to muffle the sounds of your pleasure. His mouth is relentless, and sweat builds on your skin.
“Osc, fuck, I’m gonna come,” you warn, your voice going higher in pitch the closer to the edge you get.
He doesn’t respond, but his attention never falters, and you know he’s determined. His fingers keep their steady thrusts, long and deep, and his tongue flicks rapidly against your sensitive bundle of nerves.
Oscar’s fingers twitch, and you burst. You gasp, body spasming as your legs clamp around his head. He doesn’t stop, working you over every wave of pleasure that racks your body.
He pulls away when your legs fall limply at your side, lips glistening with you as he brings his fingers up to his lips and licks them clean.
“I’m gonna make you cry,” he promises, undoing his belt with skilled fingers and kicking his dress pants down his thighs. His muscles ripple beneath his skin with every movement, his stomach taut with arousal.
You watch, transfixed, as he pulls his boxers down until his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach. The pink tip is wet with his pre-cum, and he’s so hard.
Carefully, he moves up your body, wrapping his hand along the base of him before teasing your lips with the tip of his cock.
“Get me wet, baby,” he whispers.
You don’t hesitate to wrap your lips around the crown, the salty tang of him making your legs clamp shut as another wave of want courses through you.
The moan Oscar lets out at that is the most erotic thing you swear you have ever heard. He doesn’t bother hiding the pleasure.
“Missed this fucking mouth,” he groans, and you wrap your hand around what you can’t fit. You bob your head up and down the length of him, pressure continuing to rise between your legs.
It doesn’t matter that you already came; your body always craves him.
He thrusts shallowly into your mouth, hand coming to tangle in your hair to keep you in place. You watch him as his head falls back, the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly.
You missed him so much.
“That’s it, keep looking at me,” he orders breathlessly. “Keep those pretty eyes on me when you choke on my cock.”
Tears spring to your eyes as his thrusts become more powerful, his own desperation shining through. You moan around him, relaxing your jaw to take as much of him as you can.
“Fu—fuck,” his breath hitches, lips pressing into a thin line as he forces himself out of your mouth. You whimper at the loss, your lips a little numb from how hard you were sucking.
He cups your jaw, bringing his lips to yours. His tongue slips inside your mouth, eager to taste himself, and you melt.
He grips your hips, rolling you into your stomach. Your chest presses against his shirt, now undoubtedly streaked with green. You wonder briefly how he’s planning to explain that.
His weight settles over you anew, bare chest pressing against your back. His skin is cool with a layer of sweat that matches your own, and his lips kiss along your shoulder blade.
“Y’gonna let me fuck you now?” he asks. “Gonna be good and spread those legs for me? Let me feel that pussy around my cock, yeah?”
You nod, incapable of saying anything. You feel the head of his cock tease along your folds, and you shiver.
“Please,” you whimper, hand tightening on the grass. “Please, Oscar, I need you inside me. Please.”
“Fuck,” he hisses. “How am I supposed to say no when you sound so pretty begging?”
He thrust into you all at once, not giving you a chance to adjust. You scream, but his hand covers your mouth, muffling it as you take him in fully.
“Sh, don’t cry,” he whispers. “You can take me, I know you can.”
His cock splits you open, but the stretch is divine. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as you breathe through the discomfort. Quickly, your eyes start to cross.
His hips start a slow rhythm, dragging his cock in and out of you, excruciatingly slow. His hand finds yours, fingers tangling as he pins you to the grass.
“Just like that, baby,” he breathes, pressing kisses over the crook of your neck. “Just let me use you, let me fuck you properly. Pretty thing just needs some attention, isn’t that right?”
You nod, incapable of forming any coherent words. The pleasure drawn from his cock is too much, unlike anything you have ever felt before.
Well, not exactly. Only Oscar can do this to you, only he can mess with your body and your mind so much that you can barely hold your head up.
His hips pick up the pace, thrusts quickly picking up in pace. Your entire body shakes with the force of him fucking you, and you moan.
“Fuck, right there,” you whimper, screwing your eyes shut as Oscar hits the perfect spot inside you. “Oh my god, don’t stop, please—“
He presses his lips to your temple, hips moving with relentless force, and you can barely hold your head up. “Where’d all that attitude go, baby? You were just telling me that we ended this, how wrong it was, how I’m just your big brother— now you can’t do anything except moan and cry for my cock.”
His words make you shiver, and a protest at the brother title starts to claw its way up your throat, but he cuts you off again with more filthy remarks.
“You think you wanna get engaged to a guy who can’t do this to you?” he grits, biting your earlobe. “Think you wanna give this up, pretty girl?”
You’re about to reply, but before your mouth can open, you hear the shuffling of feet along the grass. “Do you think she’s here?”
Lando.
Your mind scrambles with panic, suddenly too aware of everywhere your dress has been pulled, and the fact that your stepbrother is driving into you with enough force to make tears spring to your eyes.
“Osc, wait—”
His hand clamps over your mouth, and the roll of his hips continues.
“I swear I saw them running over here.” Lando’s voice is confused, but close enough that you can hear everything. You pray the hill between you and Oscar is enough to keep you hidden.
Another voice. “I dunno, maybe Oscar is yelling at her back at the hotel.” Hattie, one of his sisters.
Your heart lurches to your throat — and at the same moment, Oscar slips out of you and flips you onto your back. You barely bite back a gasp as he brings your knees up to your chest and pushes inside you again.
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip to keep yourself from crying out. Oscar draws in a shuddering breath. “So fucking wet still. You like this, don’t you?”
His hand covers your mouth, his thrusts returning at a new, brutal pace. Your eyes roll back, feeling him so deep you can barely think.
“He can get nasty with her,” Lando grumbles, and Oscar snickers, snapping his hips faster. “I just don’t want him to hurt her.”
Oscar’s hair falls over his forehead, a few strands sticking to his temples with sweat. His eyes are trained on yours — intense and wild. Beautiful.
“We’ve got an audience,” he whispers. “You’re going to be quiet, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want your fiancé hearing you get fucked like this.”
His other hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit with precision. He works in quick, filthy circles that make staying quiet nearly impossible.
“What would he think, hmm?” he murmurs, nose brushing yours. “What would he think of his pretty girl getting fucked stupid by big brother?”
Your eyes flash. You move your head just enough to speak. “You’re not — you—”
Oscar smirks. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
He kisses the tops of your breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth. His attack on your clit doesn’t stop; his cock stretches you open perfectly.
“Here, let’s go back to the hotel. Maybe we can find them there,” Hattie says helpfully.
You’re getting so close, the danger of almost being caught is dizzying. Oscar’s lips are tender on your skin, almost worshipful as his own hips grow sloppy.
“I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your breath hitching.
Oscar lifts his head, eyes meeting yours. He keeps that devastating rhythm, and you know you’re gone. “Come for me, baby,” he urges, kissing your cheek and the corner of your lip. “Remind me who you belong to, come on my cock.”
You break with a muffled moan, Oscar’s hand doing everything to keep you quiet, eventually resorting to kissing you to drown out the noise. His lips are sloppy, but eager. You cling to him, nails digging into his shoulders as wave after wave of pleasure pulls you under.
“Okay,” Lando sighs, and you hear the footsteps fading away.
“Oh fuck,” Oscar groans, barely above a whisper. “Can I— fuck, holy shit— can I please fill you up? Please baby? Let me—“
Your legs lock around his waist, keeping him trapped against you. “Please.”
His composure cracks ever so slightly, and he crumbles on top of you. His weight is heavenly, and it’s real, and for some reason, it makes you choke with emotion.
Oscar comes with a muffled whimper, and your arms tighten around his neck as he rides his own release. Each hot spurt of him inside you makes you shiver.
Eventually, he goes still. The only noise that fills the air is the sound of your heavy breathing, the weight of what just happened settling between the two of you.
“Are you okay?” Oscar draws back, his eyes searching your face for any sign that he may have hurt you. He seems satisfied when he doesn’t find any, and you smile.
“Better than okay,” you answer, brushing his hair away from his face. You reach forward, pulling his face down to kiss along every mark on his face. “Are you?”
Oscar pulls away carefully, and when you raise your eyebrow at him, he only smirks. “I will be,” he nods, slipping out of you with a hiss, hastily tucking himself back in his pants. “Once I see this.”
He parts your legs again, exposing your bare core to him. You’re still sensitive, shivering from everything he had done to you just a few moments prior.
You feel him start to drip out of you, and Oscar lets out a breath. “Fuck me,” he whispers, his finger trailing along your folds.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as Oscar sinks his finger inside you, pushing the white of his release deeper. You shiver, a moan slipping free.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers. “So mine.”
He settles between your legs, kissing the inside of your thigh with reverence before reaching your clit. He presses his lips to you, carefully running his tongue over your sensitive skin.
“Oscar,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes flutter.
His tongue dips down to your entrance, lapping at the mix of the two of you with the same urgency as a parched man. You can’t hold back the sounds, the way your legs shake around his head with the over-sensitivity.
Seemingly satisfied, Oscar pulls back, kissing your clit one more time before traveling up your body and kissing you. He tastes like the two of you, all desperation and forbidden longing.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. “Don’t marry him,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Please, Y/N, don’t marry him.”
You’re cold now, suddenly too aware of the chill in the air. You carefully wiggle out from underneath him, sitting up on the grass as you fix your hair.
“Even if I say no,” you start, your voice wavering slightly, “what would change? You’re still my stepbrother.”
Oscar collapses onto his shirt, his chest still rising and falling rapidly, throwing an arm over his face. “I’m not,” he whispers. “I’ve never been anything but stupidly in love with you.”
His admission hurts; you don’t know what kills you more, the pain in his voice or the helpless feeling that settles in your chest. There’s nothing for you, no future where the two of you can make it work.
Even if you feel the same way.
Swallowing thickly, you push yourself off the ground, shaking off whatever grass clings to you. If there are marks on your dress, you’re already working on a story to tell about falling while looking for Oscar.
“I should go,” you say, clearing your throat, “before they send a search party out.”
Oscar doesn’t answer, but you see the way his jaw tightens. Everything in you screams for him, and you so badly wish you could exist in a world where it would be possible to love each other.
But unfortunately, this isn’t that world.
Without another word, you climb up the hill, leaving Oscar behind in the darkness of the golf course. You have a boyfriend to get back to, a story to set straight.