december 15th - fake dating/matching pjs // l.s18

Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: fake dating, moments of convenience, bitchy sisters, friendly teasing between reader and lance, penetrative sex, choking, little bit of dirty talk. 

Word Count: 2,577

Author’s Note: I didn’t really plot this, sorta winged it. also I didn’t full proof read - sorry for the late upload! 

Holiday Advent Calendar 

— 

Lance covers for you, offering himself up to fill the role of boyfriend for the holidays. 

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the man that you are – daniel ricciardo instagram edit

yourusername

Liked by danielricciardo, lewishamilton, and 88,604 others

yourusername daniel joseph ricciardo, the man that you are. as tough as it’s been, your resilience and spirit never ceases to amaze me. im so lucky to witness you & all you do, so lucky to love and be loved by you. i am so proud of you, of all your accomplishments, and of all you have yet to achieve. this might be your last race in orange, but not your last ever. you’ll be back. i love you mr. dr3 🫶🏼

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georgerussell63 gonna miss you, but we’ll be back to racing soon mate 💪🏼 enjoy your break!

danielricciardo i love you so much ❤️

danielfan1 im so sad, but this isn’t goodbye, i know it’s not 😭❤️

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danielricciardo

Liked by mclaren, maxverstappen1, and 120,459 others

danielricciardo what a race, what a season, what an era it has been. a million thanks to the team, for all the work you’ve done over the last two years. to the fans, the papaya army, thank you for having faith in me and for all your support. to my family for all your love. and finally to my girl, for standing by me through it all. i’ll be back, i’ll make sure of it. 🧡✨

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danielfan2 we love you so much honey badger, enjoy your break 🤍

yourusername i love you 🤎

landonorris see you on the grid soon danny ric 🤜🏼

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yourusername

Liked by yourbff, danielricciardo, and 69,506 others

yourusername update: still zoomin 😳🏎️💨

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maxverstappen1 big car guy huh?

danielfan3 y/n be honest, how is he?

-

danielricciardo

Liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and 89,443 others

danielricciardo much needed break. feeling like myself again 😁👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼

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danielfan4 there’s that smile we know and love!!!!

georgerussell63 lookin good danny ric!!!!

danielfan5 see you soon? 🫣

——

note: daniel ricciardo, i love you so much.

and yes, requests for ig aus are open.

cozy get away – daniel ricciardo instagram edit

danielricciardo

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 100,338 others

danielricciardo nature and other good things 🌿🍃

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landonorris big country boy

yourusername cozy boy

georgerussell63 living the dream man

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yourusername

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yourusername just a little getaway

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yourbff danielricciardo pls return her

luisinhaoliveira99 ahhh cuties ☺️

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

dedicated to all my daniel girlies

Sugar Plum

Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, fake dating at its finest, protective!Lance, some sexual references, a few kisses and lack of clothing, Lance being the best boyfriend someone can ask for, definitely way too close for this to be fake dating lmao, overly Canadian for no reason, a few swear words. 

Word Count: 9.8k

Author’s Note: as a Canadian, it was my duty to write a Lance fic and have it take place at the Canadian GP + Toronto; it was necessary. // ***no animals were harmed in the making of this fic @ Cece, C and McKenna <333

—- 

Saturday 

Being an intern for Aston Martin was the dream. You were traveling the world doing what you loved. You worked with the PR and media department for the team and you couldn’t be happier. You had gotten to know everyone on the team pretty well, from the mechanics to the factory crew, to the PR team and the drivers; Sebastian was always nothing but kind to you, stopping to have a conversation whenever he saw you, asking how you’ve getting along there. Lance was sweet too, the two of you closer in age than you and Sebastian. He wasn’t all the most talkative but he was always nice to you. 

The Canadian Grand Prix was Lance’s home race and it just so happened to be yours as well. Lance had grown up in Montreal and you were from Toronto which was only a few hours away from there. 

You were sitting in the garage watching the qualifying session when your phone rang, you stepped into the hallway to answer the call; your mother. 

“Hello ?” 

“Hi darling! How are you?” Your mother’s voice came from the other end of the call. “Are you coming home this week? I know you have the week off.” She asks and you already regret telling her about the week between the Canadian GP and Silverstone. 

“I suppose I am. Why ?” you ask her, glancing over to see Lance pulling back into the garage. Has qualifying ended already ? 

“Your dad and I were wondering if you were bringing that boyfriend of yours. He’s there with you, isn’t he?” She asks and you sigh.

“I don’t know, we’ll see. I’ve gotta go, mom.” 

“Oh, of course. Call me before you come down!” She says and it’s like you can see the smile on her face. 

“Yeah, no problem.” You end the call and tuck the phone in your pocket. 

You’re hiding in the hallway, trying to figure out how to explain to your mom that there is no boyfriend in the picture and that you’ve been lying to them this whole time. 

There’s a hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. You assume it’s Sebastian before even looking up because he’s the only one who stops in the hallway to chat. Imagine the surprise when you look up and find Lance in front of you. 

The driver smiles at you, leaning on the wall across from you. “Any plans for this week?” He asks, small talk was his specialty you’ve learned. 

You shrug, “maybe back to London after the race.” 

Lance’s brows furrow, sipping on his water before he speaks. “How come? Aren’t you headed home for the week? You live like.. a few hours from here, no?” 

“Yeah but my mom is really getting on my nerves. She wants me to come to my cousin’s wedding and bring my boyfriend but I don’t have a boyfriend and she doesn’t know that but she’s really pushing me, it’s just irritating.” You sigh, but then realize you’ve bared your issue to the last person who probably wants to hear it. 

You give him an apologetic look. “Oh god, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop all that on you.” 

Lance waves you off, smiling. “It’s fine.” Lance is quiet for a moment, as if he was thinking before he speaks. ‘If you want, I’ll go with you.” 

You’re looking at him, part confusion and part shock which he can tell based on the look on your face. “What?”

“I’ll go with you.” He nods. You shake your head, “no, you won’t.” You’re laughing now and Lance is looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. 

“You said your mom is expecting you to bring a boyfriend. I’ll go with you and pretend to be your boyfriend.” He’s so nonchalant about the whole thing. 

“I’m leaving on Tuesday and I won’t be heading to London until the following Monday. Do you really want to spend a whole week with my family ?” 

“If they’re anything like you, then yeah.” He smiles. Your heart flutters at his words; he really thought that about you? That he’d be willing to spend a week with you? 

“Lance, you really don’t have to do this. They’re kinda crazy.” You laugh, shifting from one foot to the other. “Plus I’m sure you have better things to do. Don’t you want to spend time with your family ?” 

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she might be my girlfriend | charles leclerc

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS MASTERLIST

part 1 - part 2

summary: Ever since Spa, you’ve jumped head first into a new relationship with Charles. Except with everyone breathing behind your necks about your alleged crushes on each other, you kinda don’t want to tell anyone and decide to keep it a secret from everyone else.

warnings: Charles learned how to handle his crush and his woman. It does get a lil bit steamy at some points, but nothing too bad 😉

words count: 9,9k

a/n: You guys made of she’s not my girlfriend one of my biggest hits on this blog and I genuinely couldn’t believe the amount of notes it got when I went to publish this new part. I have to give the biggest of thanks to @parkerbunny who helped me SO MUCH with this, by brainstorming the different ideas I had, giving me feedback and then reading my drafts several times to help me. She’s been a godsend on this and if it’s good, it’s also thanks to her! I can’t wait for your reactions at some parts of this one! Have fun reading!!

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in which what was meant to be a one time thing happens again, exposing one of the drivers true feelings for you due to your very observant friend.

warnings; threesome, spanking, choking, oral (m and f receiving,) degradation, praise, overstimulation, hair pulling, unprotected sex, petty and jealous charles, asshole pierre, kinda face fucking? not really, she kinda long oops, eventual smut i swear and poorly written fluff at the end lol

favorite ship dynamic: having gay sex would be less gay than whatever these two have got going on

drunk in love | m. verstappen

my masterlist

coming back home from a stressful weekend, max felt a lot of emotions. it was unbelievable what an awful weekend he’d had. he didn’t feel confident with the car since friday, the position he got in qualifying was a miracle that he didn’t see coming. his race ending prematurely when he was finally catching up to the leader and had found some speed he felt good in was the last blow to what had been slowly becoming a good day. then it all came crashing down into a million pieces.

he really had no idea what had gone wrong, maybe it just wasn’t in the cards for max to have a good result this week. he just had to keep his head up and wait for the next race, which would hopefully go his way. it was easier said than done, though. he had to swallow the lump in his throat and face the media, already imagining all the questions about how he was going to maintain his championship title for next year if he didn’t have a reliable car like the rest. 

I can’t I really can’t 🥵🥵🥵🥵

pancakes for dinner | cl16

“You’re finally going to tell her?”

The frenchman claps his best friend on the back, catching up to him in the paddock as they head toward hospitality.

Charles smiles nervously, “Yes, Pierre. You can get off my back about it now.”

The AlphaTauri driver laughs at the red tinge on his friends cheeks, “Mate, you’re absolutely in love with this girl.”

“Do you have to say it so loud?!” the Monégasque looks around with wide eyes.

Laughter shakes Pierre’s shoulders at his friend’s frazzled demeanor. Once he finally recovers, and Charles cheeks match his Ferrari shirt, the pair continue to stroll down the paddock

“You know, there’s no harm in admitting it,” Pierre tips his head toward his friend. “It’s obvious she loves you back.”

“If its obvious, why do we have to say it?” Charles asks incredulously. Pierre just glares at him until Charles begins again, “What if she doesn’t, though? What we have right now is so nice, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

“Just tell her, mate,” Pierre grins at his friend. “You won’t regret it. If you don’t tell her soon, she might not wait around for you. I’ve seen you both together, and you love her. So, tell her.”

Pierre bids his friend goodbye before heading into his team’s hospitality suite, leaving Charles alone in the paddock walkway, hands itching to reach for his phone. Pierre’s comment lingers with him through his meal and team meeting’s, and once he returns to his driver’s room to spend some time before qualifying, he reaches for his phone.

“Hello?” I answer the video call with a lazy smile, sipping from the coffee cup between my fingers.

“Good morning,” Charles grins, feeling his worries melt at the sound of my voice.

“Mm, good afternoon,” I yawn

Charles leans against the small couch in his drivers room, spreading his legs before him, “How’s work been?”

“A bit frustrating,” I admit. “Our client moved our meeting to next week, so I could’ve come out with you after all. They called us late last night about it.”

Charles groans as he tips his head back against the couch, “You’re serious? They called that late to change it?”

I sigh as I nod my head, “I could’ve made it out if they had let us know a couple days earlier. It’s too late to fly out now.”

“Ugh, I wish you could’ve made it,” the racer pouts, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his chin. HIs voice gets quiet as his cheeks glow red, “I miss having you here.”

My chest grows warm at his admission, a smile spreading across my face, “Don’t tell me I’m your good luck charm now.”

Charles laughs loudly, the sound bringing out my own giggle, “You just might be. The first two races were good with you there.”

“You’ll still be great this weekend,” I comment. “I watched free practice, and you look like you’re in a good position. The porpoising looks terrible, but you’re still quick.”

“I love when my girl talks to me about racing terms,” he smirks, a chuckle falling from his lips after his comment.

“Your girl?” I tease in an attempt to hide the blush on my cheeks.

Charles had never called me that, and our relationship isn’t exactly clearly defined. Terms of endearment is something we haven’t addressed sober yet. I called him mon beau one too many times at the bar, and he let ma meuf slip in a dazed state. Memories of his arm slung across my shoulder and my hand resting on his hip as we leave the function surface. Loving terms in our native tongue slipping from our lips between breathless kisses and lingering laughter.

“Our little secret,” he winks at the camera, dimples poking through his rose cheeks.

“More than just our secret,” I remind him. “Pierre and Carlos sure as hell know.”

“As do your friends,” he grins, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “Need I remind you about your boss?”

“Alright, that one’s your fault!” I grin as I defend myself. “You wouldn’t let go of me when we ran into her!”

Charles laughs wildly at the memory, continuing the easy conversation between us. I enjoy listening to his voice as he talks about his time in Melbourne, and my heart eases at his gentle tone. The lull to his French and breathy laughter is comforting, and my eyes start to grow heavy.

“Nap before qualifying,” he says, running fingers through his helmet hair. “You’ve still got an hour until it starts.”

I yawn again, “I’ll just make more coffee. I can’t risk missing it, Charles.”

He grins wildly at my comment, “I love knowing you watch me race.”

“I love watching you,” I respond, shamelessly checking him out over the video call.

“God, I wish you were here. I miss having you around,” he admits, rubbing a hand down his face. “I feel calm when you’re here.”

It’s the closest he can get to admitting his love. A silence lingers between us with words unsaid, and Charles eventually bids me a goodbye as someone knocks on his door. While I make another cup of coffee, Charles goes through the motions at the paddock. He mentally kicks himself for being unable to say what he had wanted—what he had promised Pierre he would tell me. The feeling grows in intensity, and it starts to manifest as nervousness for the upcoming session. In the garage, Mattia senses the driver’s anxiety and urges him to call someone he loves to give him some peace. He desperately wants to call me back, admitting what he had called in the first place to say, but at the last moment, his finger hits his mom’s contact information instead of mine. She tells him exactly what he needed to hear, ending the call with those three words he had been searching for only an hour before. As he gets ready to settle into the cockpit for qualifying, anxiety suddenly grips him. What if something were to happen and he never got to say those words to me? He suddenly climbs out of the car, muttering apologies to his engineers and team before searching for his phone. His mom’s words echo in his head, and he hesitates for only a moment before clicking my name.

“Charles?” I answer the phone call with concern in my voice.

He usually video calls unless something is more serious.

“I had to call you. I’m sorry, but I can’t get back into the car without telling you something. I-“

“Babe,” the word slips from my lips without another thought, “breathe. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I don’t want to cross that line, but just in case something happens in the car, I want you to know this.”

“You’re going to be fine in the car,” I begin. “You always are. What’s gotten into you?”

The line is silent for a moment. Charles stand against the far wall of the Ferrari garage, race suit adorning his body and car ready to go. His helmet sits next to him as he stares blankly at the garage floor, biting his lip as he grapples with what to say. He hears me begin again on the other end of the line, worry increasing in my tone.

“I want to eat pancakes for dinner,” he blurts out suddenly.

My eyebrows draw together, “What?”

His voice sounds suddenly frantic, “I’ll answer all your questions, but let me say all of this first.”

I agree quietly, eyebrows drawing together even further as I check the time. He should be in the car already. Qualifying was starting any minute.

“When I come home after a race, I want to come home to you and eat pancakes for dinner,” his voice is rushed but remains strong. “I want to pick a tv show to watch together, and watch it in bed when you get those headaches that put you down for a day. I want to be that person that you call when you’re under the weather.

I want to go out on the weekends—take you in public with me. Be proud that we’re at each other’s sides. I want to introduce you to all of my friends, not just some of them. I want you to bring me to your work functions and introduce me to your coworkers. I want to do things with you that I used to want to do alone.

I want us to get dressed in our best evening wear only to come home and take it all off. I want to get dressed up just to get undressed. You’re beautiful in anything. Hell, everything. I want to show you this.

I want to brag to my friends about you. I want to be able to kiss you whenever I want. I’m comfortable with you. I like having you in my space. When I get home from the craziness of a race weekend, I look forward to walking into my apartment and seeing you there. You’re waiting for me, dangling that spare key I gave you in between you fingers, and it feels like home. To tell you all this is terrifying, but I wish you could hear me when I talk to myself. If you could hear what’s in my head, this wouldn’t be so scary.”

“Charles,” tears have welled in my eyes at his admission, heart beating out of my chest and cheeks burning red.

The line hangs silent for a moment as fear grips me. I can hear tools whirring and chatter from the garage in the background, but the driver hangs on to the end of my words with baited breath. I could feel what he is trying to say, and despite the obvious love between us, my brain falters at the words.

“Oh, fuck it,” I whisper, heart hammering in my chest. “I love you, too.”

There is silence again, and for a moment, it feels like my knees are going to give way beneath me. Someone in the garage calls his name. In the Ferrari garage, Charles must look like a lovestruck idiot to the team around him. They bustle through the packed garage between the cars and monitors while their driver stands against the wall, mouth hanging open in a lazy smile. When someone calls his name, he suddenly snaps back to his senses and realizing he’s left me hanging on the other end.

“Babe,” he calls when he realizes the stretching silence between us, “I can’t get into that car without telling you. I love you.”

“I know you do,” I say into the phone, glancing at the television as the clock for qualifying winds down. “I’ll love you even more if you get into that car and get out there for qualifying.”

“Right,” Charles suddenly realizes the time and the bustle of the garage. “Pole position is yours.”

I roll my eyes with a laugh, “Get in the car, Charles. Good luck, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he hurries before hanging up the phone.

He wasn’t lying when he said pole position. Charles takes pole to kickoff his grand slam weekend. Some of my friends watch the race with me, holding my hand as Charles takes off on the start and cheering when he crosses the line to drop the checkered flag. My heart bursts at the sight on the television screen, and my friends are still over when they hear my disgustingly in-love call with Charles once he exits the paddock. I hear Pierre laugh wildly in the background after Charles bids me goodbye, ending the call with another I love you. My own friends screech as they hear me return it.

Once he texts me that his plane has touched down, I rush over to his apartment with his spare key in tow. Dinner is quick to cook, and I’m turning off the stove as I hear the lock on the front door click. I lean against the counter, grinning as he swings the door open and stops dead in his tracks. His eyes have dark circles beneath them and the stubble on his jaw is darker that usual. A hat holds back his wild hair. Warmth spreads from my chest to my fingers and toes at the sigh of him.

“Congratulations, championship leader,” I smile.

“What are you doing here?” he grins, abandoning his suitcase and bag at the door to walk over to me. “It’s late, and you’ve got work tomorrow.”

I laugh as his arms wrap tightly around me, relishing in the warmth and touch I had been missing for over a week, “I wanted to see you.”

He chuckles quietly against me, sighing as his head rests between my shoulder and neck, “God, I missed you so much. I thought I was going crazy.”

He glances at the plate on the kitchen counter, gasping and looking to me with wide eyes, “You didn’t.”

“Pancakes for dinner,” I nod my head, leaning in to his lips for a moment. “After your amazing weekend, I thought you’d like them.”

“A weekend that was entirely your doing, mon amour,” he kisses me this time, a lazy smile across his tired features.

“Mon amour?” I grin. “So I’m officially stepping up from ma meuf now?”

He hums in agreement, “Even in public.”

“Lucky me,” I whisper, connecting our lips again beneath the warm kitchen lights.

We stack our plates with pancakes, sitting on the couch with our dinner. Charles puts on one of our favorite shows, picking up where we left off before he left for Australia. We eat in a comfortable silence, elbows bumping and legs brushing beneath the blanket. Charles raves about the pancakes despite being from a box mix, and I laugh when he stacks more on to his plate. Once we finish eating, he puts our plates on the coffee table before leaning back into the couch. He wraps his arms around me before flopping on to the couch, chuckling as he pulls me on top of him. Our show plays in the background as we talk about what we did in the week we were apart. I tell him all about the office and getting together with my friends for a girls weekend. He talks about the race, and the team watching him as he called me from the garage. As our conversation lulls, his eyes grow heavy. He squeezes my hand gently.

“Will you come to Imola with me?” he mutters, pushing hair back from my face.

“Of course,” I answer, chin resting on his chest to meet his eyes. “Camille can keep me company again in the grandstands.”

He shakes his head gently, “No, come with me to the garage as a guest. I want to be seen with you.”

“Like walk with you through the paddock?” my eyes are wide at his admission.

He nods, “Stand with my family in the garage, hold my mom’s hand on the opening lap, celebrate with me at the end. I want you there with me because I love you. I want everyone to know that.”

I laugh gently, squeezing his hand, “I’d love to be there, but I think the the garage already knows because they heard your entire confession over the phone.”

He smiles, “Hopefully Mattia and my trainer didn’t hear the pancakes for dinner comment. It definitely doesn’t follow my meal plan.”

“Well, it’s our little secret then,” I lean up to kiss his lips.

He smiles, leaning back into the couch pillow with closed eyes, “It sounds good to have something that’s ours, mon amour.”

Withdrawals➔MF

Read part 1 here

>absence makes the heart grow fonder<

a/n: barking for this man.

🎵Jack Harlow - Luv Is Dro (feat. Static Major & Bryson Tiller)🎵

gif creds to owner :)

“You’re not gonna last without me for ten weeks,” your breath was barely above a whisper as you tried to concentrate on the riveting conversation at hand, rather than the trail of Max’s fingers from the inside of your thigh to the lace detailing of your panties. “You’re gonna have withdrawal symptoms.”

art | m. verstappen

my masterlist

(we love fluffy hair max)

flashing lights and people screaming her name were things she was used to. she had completely given up on being able to have a nice meal at a restaurant where no one recognized her, but it was fine, she could handle anything as long as max was by her side.

the pair met during a grand prix weekend, she was invited by the mclaren team to attend a race, and as max was getting ready to get in his car, fifteen minutes before a practice session, he spotted her. she was laughing as daniel walked with her, leading her to his garage. the young woman peeked her head forward, curious eyes darting all over the place as she eyed the mechanics working on the car, the engineers observing data on the screens.

“maximilian!” daniel noticed max, standing with the earpiece in his hand. daniel and his guest waltzed in, the aussie bumped fists with people he knew since back when he still raced for the team.

“that’s not my name,” max ran a hand through his hair, the ashy blonde strands were starting to get a little sweaty from the humidity. “hi, i’m max,” he smiled, bumping his fist against hers.

Champagne Problems

CS x Reader x DR

A/N Hello friends! I apparently go on long hiatus' and then drop fics out of nowhere. Please enjoy the first part of what will be a series! Huge thank you to my muse and brainstorm buddy, @haterpenny. Any messages are hugely appreciated!

Warnings: Smut, fwb situation, some light swearing, some questionable decision making, drinking.

Word count: 5K

It never failed to blow your mind how a race felt like it lasted forever, but it was over in the blink of an eye. All you knew was how desperate you were to win.

For the first twenty laps, you and Lewis were neck and neck, with him about a second or so behind. You’d gotten away well at the start and did everything in your power to keep that lead. Unfortunately for Mercedes, a pit stop error plus your “perfect” (Christian’s words, not yours) performance led you to the race win.