forzalando

[forzalando]

OH MY GODDDDDD THIS IS SO CUTE I’M GOING TO COMBUST😭💛

girl I’ve followed you for years now and I love that our hyperfixations have synced up again. Your fics are ADORABLE.

lando & 20, please 🤞🏻

babe i'm pretty sure you sent this before he won silvo and somehow ur prompt fit exactly into real life how did u know 🤯 and omg years?? that's crazy to think about thank u so much for sticking around <33

20. bandaging/stitching up an injury. lando norris x physio!reader, 2.6k. mentions of injury and blood but nothing too descriptive just lando's post race trophy mishap. request something from here!

“Streets are saying Andrea and Zak are taking the team out for dinner tonight.” 

You aim a knowing look at your friend and coworker, who looks far too happy to have just chatted with the bosses about dinner arrangements. “And by streets, you mean…?” 

“Okay, I heard it from Jon,” She says sheepishly, rolling her eyes at your suggestive wiggling eyebrows. “Shut up.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” You protest with a laugh, tucking a box of sterile gloves into its designated pocket of your med bag. “But if I were to say something, which I definitely won’t, I’d say you should really just ask him out, you know.” 

“I’ll ask him out when you ask Lando the same.” 

You pull the zipper of the bag shut a little too aggressively to pass off as nonchalant. “Don’t.” 

As unprofessional as it is, you’ve grown a little crush on the British driver in the time you’ve been with McLaren. How could you not have? 

Lando is kind and very down to earth, not to mention extremely talented at what he does. To say he’s charismatic is stretching it a bit, but his personality exudes comfort—the kind of comfort you’d felt even the first time you’d met him. Like the sun’s rays finally shining through the clouds after a rainy day. 

As part of the physiotherapy team, you’ve worked with him quite often, always on hand when he needs anything both at MTC and trackside during race weekends. He’s always been a little extra nice when you’re the one working on him, asks about your life away from work and actually listens when you talk. You just attribute it to his likeable nature, because if you let yourself think too deeply into the way he is around you, you’d never be able to get anything done. 

“What’s the worst that could happen?” 

You scowl. “Let’s not talk about this now. C’mon, we gotta load all the equipment into the trucks.” 

All of a sudden, a ruckus just outside the room gains both your focus. Someone’s shouting something about medical attention, which snaps you both to attention because, well, that’s your forte. The door swings open to reveal none other than the two people you’ve just been talking about. 

A worried looking Jon ushers Lando, who’s got both hands clutching at his upper face, into the small area. 

“Whoa, what happened?” You gasp, hurrying to pull out a chair for Lando to sit on. 

Jon rakes a hand back through his dark hair, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grimace. “Incident with a photographer out in the pit lane. Would you mind checking him out?” You nod quickly, and he claps Lando on the shoulder. “Mate, you gotta show the doc.” 

When Lando just shakes his head no, the older man looks at you and your coworker helplessly. 

“Lando, she needs to take a look at your face. She can’t do that if you won’t show her,” He says slowly. Cautiously. Again, Lando shakes his head, this time more vigorously than the first. 

You lay a hand on his shoulder gently, crouching down to his eye level. “Hey, I gotta make sure you’re not hurt badly, yeah? If you’re in pain, I can help you, but only if you let me.” 

“Why don’t we give them some privacy?” Your coworker suggests, aiming her question towards Jon. It takes a few seconds, but he eventually gives in, tells Lando he’ll be right outside if he needs him, before heading for the exit. 

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving just the two of you. Lando hasn’t moved or said a word yet, and it’s starting to make you a little nervous.

“Lando, it’s me. Just me, no one else. Can you let me help you?” 

“It’s so embarrassing,” He groans finally, broad shoulders hunching in on themselves.

“You once came to me because you pulled your hamstring trying to do the full splits on a dare. I think we’re past embarrassing at this point, no?” 

“Don’t remind me about that, please,” Lando mutters, chin dropping towards his chest. You take the cap off his head and set it aside to get a better look, but he’s still got his hands over his face. “I was trying to get up on the fence to, y’know, say hi to some of the fans, show them the trophy. And then someone in front of me fell into me and the next thing I know the pointy bit on the top jabs me right in the face.”

He gestures a haphazard hand towards the golden trophy sitting on the counter, all sharp edges and protruding details that glint in the light. It’s beautiful, you think, but dangerous. 

Kind of like Lando. 

“Not your eye, right?” You press. It is very—no, extremely—important that he hasn’t been stabbed in the eye. 

“No, no, not the eye. My nose.” 

“You and injuring your nose seems to be a common theme, doesn’t it?” 

“Ha ha, very funny,” He deadpans, lifting his head to level you with an unimpressed stare through his fingers. You smile, and his shoulders lose a bit of their tension. The sign that he’ll let you touch him now is subtle, but you know him. 

“Let’s see what we’ve got here, shall we?” You hum, prying his hands away from his face gently. Upon first inspection, it looks pretty bad. A sizable looking gash sits right between his eyebrows, a rivulet of blood running down his nose, smeared onto his cheek from where he’d probably rubbed at it. 

In your experience, the sight of blood tends to make an injury look a lot worse than it actually is, and you suspect this is the case with Lando. 

“Is it bad?” He asks breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut. His chest rises and falls erratically, which tells you he’s nervous about the diagnosis. Or worried his handsome face will be scarred for life, you can’t tell. 

Even with blood streaking his golden skin and a face injury, Lando is still unfairly attractive. You don’t mean to stare at him outright like this, but you can’t help it. Long, thick lashes kiss his cheekbones, curls still damp with the sweet smelling tang of champagne hanging over his forehead artfully messy, pink lips pressed into a slight pout. 

You use your thumb to turn his head to one side, then the other, before stepping back and sighing loudly. If you spend any longer looking at him, you’d feel like a creep. “Terrible. We might have to cut the whole nose off.” 

“What?” He yelps. His eyes spring open, wide and disbelieving until he catches you giggling into the back of your hand. “Oh, you’re just taking the piss, aren’t you? That’s not funny!” 

“It’s a little funny.” Lando scowls weakly at your jest, and you roll your eyes playfully. “You’re gonna be fine, Lando, it’s not bad at all. I do have to clean it up, though.” 

“That’ll hurt like a bitch.” 

“Probably. But you’re a big boy, you can handle it.” You turn to grab the supplies you need to clean his face, completely missing the way he blushes. By the time you turn back, he’s got a little crooked smile on his face, like you amuse him. “What?” 

“Nothing. You just look happy.” 

“Happy that someone needs me? Yeah. If you boys didn’t get hurt, I’d be out of a job, wouldn’t I?” 

“I’d get hurt more often if it meant seeing you every time.” 

You falter, nearly fumbling the things gathered in your arms in surprise at his boldness. The roll of tape at the top of the pile topples over at the sudden stop, but Lando leans forward, snatching it out of the air before it falls even a foot. 

He holds it out to you like it’s a peace offering to what he’d just blurted out, cheeks already pink with sheepish embarrassment. 

You pluck it out of his open palm, setting it and the rest of the supplies onto the table beside him. “Thanks.” 

Lando likes seeing you. Lando wants to see you more often. Your brain doesn’t seem to comprehend that.

You give your head a little shake to refocus, busying yourself with organizing your materials nicely. “So how does it feel? To win your home race for the first time,” You ask, ripping open a packet of antiseptic wipes discreetly. 

You have the feeling you’ll need to distract him for this. 

“Absolutely fucking unreal, honestly. Like, it feels like I’m dreaming and I’ll wake up any second, and then realize it was all just in my head.” He’s grinning like a madman, still smiling like he’s replaying the whole thing in his mind as you nudge your way between his knees. “Is that crazy?” 

You smile warmly, shaking your head. “I don’t think so. You’ve been wanting this forever, and it’s finally happened.” You settle a gloved hand at the base of Lando’s jaw to keep him still, tilting his head up for a better angle. His lips part, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously before quirking up into the tiniest of satisfied smiles. “You should be proud.” 

“Yeah, I am, for sure. But I owe it all to—fuck, ow!” He bites out, grimacing at the sting of the antiseptic as you dab at the cut gingerly. A hand comes up to the curve of your hip, knuckles curling into the material of your team jacket on instinct. To ground himself from the sudden pain.

For a moment, you lose yourself in the mesmerizing constellation of his eyes, lured into losing focus by the swirl of colors and the weight of what lies within them. Your hands fall still on his face. The way he’s looking at you makes you want to kiss him, just to see what it would be like. 

Fuck. No, you can’t. You have to remain professional, because you’re coworkers, damn it. 

“Sorry,” You murmur. You try really hard not to think about how his hand doesn't move from your waist. Instead he holds on a little tighter, giving you an almost imperceptible tug closer. “This is gonna hurt some more.” 

“I don’t mind.” His voice is impossibly soft, a little breathless as he stares up at you unabashed. 

You dab at the cut and the surrounding area until there's no more blood, letting you see the wound a little more clearly. Clean edges, not too deep, definitely no need for stitches. Some tape to close it up and a plaster should do nicely. 

“Did you know you scrunch your nose when you focus?” He asks some time later, as you’re getting ready to fix him up. 

“What? No, I don’t,” You scoff. 

“Yeah, you do. It’s cute.” 

You feel your face flame hot. “Shut up.” 

“I’m serious!” He insists, grinning. He seems to rather enjoy the reaction he’s elicited from you. “Look, I know we work together, but I don’t think I’m imagining the way things are between us. So I’m just gonna come out and ask. D’you—I mean, would you maybe…I dunno, wanna grab dinner with me tonight?”

You bite the inside of your cheek as you lay down the plaster right over his cut, fingers smoothing around the edges delicately. “We have the team dinner later.” 

The last thing you want to seem is too eager, but you wouldn't even dream of saying no. Not when he's looking at you all hopeful and nervous like this. 

Lando scratches his cheek, frowning. “Oh. Right. It’d be a bad look to skip out on that, wouldn’t it?”

“Reckon it would be, yeah,” You chuckle goodnaturedly. Three pieces of tape go on, right before he tilts his head to the side thoughtfully.

“Maybe tomorrow then? We’ve got the day off, we can do something together!” 

“You’ve got it off maybe, but I’ve got an exciting day of supply inventory at MTC.” 

“Sound riveting,” He snorts, shoulders shaking with laughter. “Alright, how ‘bout this? I can swing by in the afternoon, bring some food. We can sit out in that little garden in the east wing on your lunch break. Or I can pick you up after your day’s done and we can grab some dinner?” 

“Has anyone told you that you’re very persistent?” 

“Oh, all the time. But I do really like you, and today’s given me the courage to man up and finally ask you out, so…yeah, I’m persistent. Is that alright?” 

You try to fight the smile spreading across your face, but it’s no use. “Yeah, it is. ‘Cause I kinda like you too.” 

“Just kinda?” 

“Quit killing my mysterious vibe, Norris.”

“Mysterious! That’s hilarious, seriously.” 

“What? Why?” You’d be offended if it wasn't true. Now it just makes you giggle. 

“Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you’ve been staring at my lips this whole time. And might I add—” 

You lean forward, slotting your mouth against his before he can go on. It’s an impulsive spur of the moment kind of decision that stuns him into silence, short and sweet and effective. 

He looks utterly dumbfounded when you pull back. “I—you—that was…if that’s how you get me to shut up, I should start talking a lot more.” 

“Try it, see what happens.” 

“I could. Or I could just…” He trails off in favor of tugging you a step closer by the hand, leaning in slowly. 

Closer, closer, closer still, until—

“Mate, I heard you got smacked—” Oscar bursts through the door right before your lips touch, phone waving in hand. The sudden intrusion makes you both startle away from each other. You grab the remnants of your supplies to put back, Lando scratches the back of his neck in a poor attempt to look casual, and the Australian boy just stops, eyes flicking between the two of you in search of a connection. “Oh shit, sorry. I was—you guys were just—um, I can leave. Yeah, I’ll go.” 

“It’s fine, Oscar.” Although a little bummed the moment has been cut short, you smile as sincerely as you can manage. “We’re just about done here anyways.” 

“We are?” Lando asks, brows furrowing. He looks like he doesn’t want to go, but even you know he has to. 

You squeeze his hand. “Yeah, you’re all set.” 

“Thanks for patching him up, doc,” Oscar says, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “Dude, c’mon. We gotta get to the fan stage.” 

“But—” 

“We’re already late because of your detour, let’s go.” His tone leaves no room for discussion and Lando can see that, because he slouches and sighs. 

“Fine,” He huffs, shoving his hands into his pockets. His grumpy expression softens when he looks at you again. “See you later?” 

“I’ll be around.” He’s halfway out the door when you exclaim quickly, “Lando, wait!” 

Lando pokes his head back into the room quicker than lightning, looking hopeful. “Yeah?” 

“Don’t forget your trophy.” 

“Oh.” He shuffles towards you to grab it, ears turning red at just how excited he’d sounded as he hefts the giant thing into his arms. “Thanks.” 

You press a kiss to his cheek before he can get far, smiling fondly at him when you pull away. “See you tonight.” 

“And tomorrow?” 

“Yes, and tomorrow.” 

“Mint. Can't wait.”  

With a cheeky wink aimed at you, he’s gone, leaving you alone grinning like an idiot with your heart thrumming in your ears. 

You barely notice your coworker slip back into the room, but coincidentally, she’s also grinning. Though hers looks much more devious in nature. 

You roll your eyes. “Not a word out of you.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” She protests, but the wicked gleam in hers tells you she knows exactly what went down. 

“Good. There’s nothing to say.” 

“Of course.” She nods. “But if I were to say something, which I definitely won’t, it would be about fucking time.” 

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[forzalando]

this is so freaking cute, i'm going to cry!!!!

made to be here

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

prompts: squishing the other's cheek + stroking the other's arm soothingly + leaning into the other's side — requested here and here, from this list! (3.1k)

a/n: did anyone say super fluffy osc fic because boy do i have a treat for you 😇

“Come home with me.” 

Oscar’s proposition comes out of the blue. You’re curled up on his couch with a book in your hands and his head in your lap when he blurts it out, breaking the comfortable silence you’ve been sitting in for hours now. 

Honestly, you thought he’d fallen asleep ages ago at the feeling of your fingers stroking through his hair absentmindedly, but when you glance at him, he’s fully awake, looking up at you with his usual neutral expression. 

“What?” You chuckle. You fluff his hair one more time before he sits up. 

“I want you to come home with me for the summer holiday.” 

That gets you to set aside your book, carefully marking your page before tossing it off to the side. Oscar leans forward, hair falling back into that perfectly messy swoop you love so much, cheeks rosy with your shared warmth. This kind of relaxed comfort isn’t something you get to have very often with him with the F1 season upon you. 

“Come home with you,” You repeat slowly, like you’ve somehow misheard him even though he’s sitting right next to you. He nods. “Like…meet your family?” 

“Yeah,” He says, nodding. Like it isn’t a big deal. His tone makes it seem more like he’s suggesting what to have for dinner, not taking a big step in your relationship together. “It’ll be nice.” 

Something about Oscar you have yet to get used to is how casual he is about things. To you, this is a big thing, but to him? Well, you’re not really sure what he thinks. 

“Osc, I’d be meeting your family for the first time. This is a big deal.” 

He blinks, cocking his head to the side in thought. “Um, yeah I guess it could be, sure. But you’ve already met them before, over video chat.” 

“That is so not the same thing!” You whine, leaning forward until your cheek presses against Oscar’s thigh. His hand moves to your back immediately, rubbing circles between your shoulder blades. “Meeting them in person is something else entirely.”

“They’re gonna love you, you know that, right? I’m pretty sure they already do. My sisters keep asking me where you get your clothes from every time you post on Instagram.” 

You return to a sitting position, cocking your head at him. “And do you?” 

His nose wrinkles in confusion. “No? I just tell them I don’t know.” 

“God, you’re such a boy, Osc,” You scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. 

“Thank you? I’m taking that as a compliment even if it isn’t.” He shrugs, laying an arm across the top of the cushion behind you. He reaches out, gentle fingers stroking your arm soothingly. “So, what d’you say? Come home with me, meet my family?” 

You take in the sight of him, the tilt of his head and the softness in his smile and the happy crinkles he gets by his eyes whenever he’s happy. “Okay,” You agree. (Like you were ever going to say no to him in the first place.) “A summer holiday to Melbourne it is.”

-------

The handful of days before summer break fly by quicker than you can imagine. Now you're standing on the front step of Oscar’s childhood home, nervously clicking the button on the handle of your suitcase like it suddenly gained the ability to teleport you home. 

“I think I might throw up.” 

Oscar’s nose crinkles when he looks at you. “Gross. Are you being serious?” 

“Not really. I think. My stomach feels weird.” 

“You're nervous.” 

“No shit, genius.” 

An amused laugh snort escapes his mouth. “Oh, you really are nervous.” 

“I will smack you.” 

“I still don’t see what the big deal is,” He says, shrugging. Then you shoot him a pointed look and he holds his hands up in surrender. “But I know it is a big deal. And I will try my best to remember that.” 

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing none other than Oscar’s mum and dad. 

“You’re late!” His mum exclaims, though her fond expression tells you that she really doesn’t mind at all. In fact, she just looks beyond relieved that her son is home. His dad looks the same. 

“Hi, mum, dad,” He says softly, accepting the bone crushing hug she gives him. He doesn’t even say a word when she fusses over him, wonders if he’s eating enough and getting enough sleep, and then berates him for not calling her more often whilst he’s been away in the very same breath.

You can tell right away, he’s happy to be home. 

You stay back, wanting to let Oscar have this moment with his parents, but Nicole Piastri turns her gaze on you next. Part of you is a little intimidated, but then she breaks into a smile like a carbon copy of Oscar’s and any worries you have start to melt away. 

“Don’t be rude, Oscar, introduce us to this lovely young woman!” 

“I was getting there!” Oscar laughs, escaping his mum’s clutches to slide a hand around the small of your back, nudging you forward. “You guys remember my girlfriend.” 

Oscar’s mum says your name with such maternal warmth, you don't even recall why you were so nervous to meet his family in the first place. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s so nice to finally meet you face to face! Video quality doesn’t do justice to how gorgeous you are, my goodness.” 

“It’s really nice to meet you too, Mr. and Mrs. Piastri,” You say politely.

“There’s no need for that,” Oscar’s dad insists, waving away any formalities as you cross the threshold into their home. “Chris and Nicole is just fine.” 

“Oh, um, okay! Thank you for having me, by the way. I hope it’s okay I brought dessert, Oscar’s always raved about a bakery in town that has amazing pastries. I may have gone a little overboard and gotten a bunch of them for everyone to try,” You admit sheepishly, holding up the giant box. 

It’s true, Oscar had told you about the family owned bakery many times, the same place where his mum would buy anything for a special occasion. You’ve been wanting to try it, but you’d also chosen to get a little of everything to smooth out any awkwardness with his family if there was any. If they’re anything like Oscar, dessert is always the answer. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Oscar asks, peering around in search of his sisters. 

“All out with their friends, but they’ll be back soon for dinner. Your dad’s about to fire up the grill, we've got steaks and chicken—oh no, I forgot to ask if you had any dietary restrictions, hon.” 

“She doesn't,” Oscar chimes in before you can respond. His mum swats him on the arm. “What?” 

“She can answer for herself, Osc!” 

“But I was just—” At her pointed look, he snaps his mouth shut, looking at you with an expression that screams help me.

“He's right, I’ll eat anything,” You chuckle. 

“I can see why my son loves you so much! Y’know, he talks about you all the time. Whenever I can wrangle him for a call—which, let me tell you, is like pulling teeth—he always chats about you nonstop. His sisters tease him about it too, but they’ve always liked to poke fun at their big brother—” 

“Okay, alright, mum! Let’s not scare her off just yet, yeah?” Oscar says, absolutely red in the face with embarrassment. 

He hurries you upstairs before his mum can share any more stories, but you’ll be sure to get your fix of them in the mornings, when he’s busy snoring away. Where Oscar is an enjoyer of sleeping in, you thrive in the quietness of early morning. 

You barely have time to set your bag down at the foot of the bed before he’s tugging you into his room right across the corridor. Looking around the cozy room, you take in every bit of the version of Oscar you haven't had the chance to know. 

Trophies and medals and stacks of books sit neatly on shelves, posters of cars and pictures with jagged edges from being torn out of magazines plastered all over the walls, photos of friends and family tacked onto a cork board above a terribly cluttered desk. Even though it hasn't been occupied in a while, it still feels very lived in. 

You can almost picture little chubby cheeked Oscar reading vigorously through car books with a torch under the blankets at night when he was supposed to be asleep. 

A lone koala stuffed animal sits on the small bed tucked into the corner of the room, obviously well loved and facing the door like it had been waiting for Oscar’s arrival. 

“Oh. My. God.” You plop onto the bed with a bounce, gathering the soft toy into your arms with a giggle. Oscar scrubs a hand down his face, cheeks tinged pink. “It’s you!” 

“Just because I’m Australian doesn't mean every koala is me,” He sighs, rolling his eyes playfully. You make the koala’s paw wave, peering at Oscar with pouted lips. “And besides, his name is Turbo.” 

You laugh then, loud and clear and so full of joy it makes Oscar’s heart leap right out of his chest. 

You look like you belong here, sitting on his bed in his childhood room hugging his favorite stuffed animal. In another life, one where racing never came into the picture, you’d spend hours and days here together, sprawled out on the carpeted floor eating snacks and laughing until your stomachs hurt. 

In another life, you might’ve grown up knowing you loved each other your whole lives. 

But then again, if he never took up racing, he never would've gone to boarding school, never made his way to Formula 1. Never met you in the first place. So, he wouldn’t trade this life for anything. 

“Turbo! Of course his name is Turbo, you absolute nerd.” 

Oscar gives a little snort at your quip, taking a seat next to you. “I wasn't very original when I was nine.”

“Definitely not. Sure were a little cutie, though. Look at those cheeks! You’ve still got that baby face, you know.” 

“I do not.” He frowns, pressing his lips together. 

“You so do, don’t even try to deny it.” 

“I don’t see it.” He shrugs. You knock your knee against his. “I don’t!” 

“Fine, live your life in denial. I, for one, adore your baby face.” You squish his cheek between your fingers, grinning widely at him, and it makes him roll his eyes playfully. 

Just so he doesn't have to listen to you talk about it any more, he leans in to kiss you then. On instinct, you meet him halfway, eyes fluttering shut as his lips press against yours gently. 

For a second, you almost forget where you are. It isn’t until Oscar’s kisses start to stray towards your jaw that you remember. 

“Oscar!” You gasp quietly, splaying a palm over his chest. He rears back, brows pinching in confusion, eyes squinting. “Your mum and dad are right downstairs.” 

“Okay. And?” 

“So we can’t.” 

Oscar makes an indignant sound out the back of his throat, pushing in a little closer still. “They’re busy. It’s not like anyone’s gonna come upstairs, my sisters aren’t even home. Besides, I haven't kissed you in so long I’m starting to forget what it's like.” He grins boyishly, head lolling to the side. 

“I kissed you after we got off the plane.” 

“Yeah, but that was, like, an hour ago. Way too long.” 

“You’re feeling deprived?” You giggle, bumping your shoulder against his. 

“Very.” He nods. “Help a guy out?” 

“I guess I could.” 

“How gracious of you. C’mere.” Oscar slots his mouth against yours with a lazy smile, sliding a gentle palm around the back of your neck. 

He’s too big for this bed now, but he doesn't let it stop him from guiding you back down against the mattress, pushing himself onto his elbows without breaking the kiss. 

“Osc, d’you still have—oh shit!!!” 

Oscar shifts his body over yours in a flash, shielding you from view as if you aren’t still completely clothed. (Had it been a few minutes later, well, that you couldn’t say for sure.) 

“Edie!” He snaps. He doesn’t sound mad though, just firm. “Ever heard of knocking?” 

“Your door was open, you moron!” Edie exclaims. You can see her with her hand over her eyes through the gap between Oscar’s arm and chest. 

You’ve just been caught making out with your boyfriend on his childhood bed by his sister, and it’s absolutely mortifying. 

“Get out!” He says exasperatedly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Hi! It’s really nice to finally meet you!” Edie chirps, waving at you. You manage a feeble wave back, smiling as best you can given the circumstances. So much for a good first impression. “I love your top! Where’d you get it?”

Oscar groans, turning to shoot a glare her way. “Out!” 

“Ugh, okay! I’m going!” 

She does shut the door on her way out, something Oscar and yourself should’ve done the moment things started to get heated. Oscar drops himself by your side, wedging himself in between you and the wall with a groan. You roll over to face him, cheeks still burning hot. 

Truly, this might have been one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. 

“I’m never living that one down,” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You?” You whine, burying your face in your hands. “What about me? Edie will never look at me the same! She might be scarred for life.” 

“Trust me, she’s seen a lot worse before. She’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t think I even want to ask about that,” You huff. You wriggle out from under him, going over to the mirror in the corner to make sure you look as non-kissed as possible. Oscar pouts from behind you, having flipped onto his back to watch you straighten yourself out. “What? We’re going downstairs.” 

“Right now?” 

“Right now.” 

“But we were a little busy before Edie barged in,” He reasons, coming to stand behind you. An arm winds around your waist, chin nestling on your shoulder as he meets your gaze in the mirror. You level him with a pointed look, brow raised. “Point taken. You’re right, of course.” 

“Always am.” 

“Right again. Don’t know what I was thinking. Certainly not anything to do with you laid out on my bed like some sort of—” At the elbow you press warningly against his ribs, he clears his throat, cheeks flaming pink. “Uh…nevermind. Nothing.” 

“Thought so,” You hum, smiling. “Let’s go meet your sisters, shall we?” 

-------

Dinner goes swimmingly. 

Any worries or fears about Oscar’s family not liking you have disappeared the longer you get to know them, and by the time night falls, you feel comfortable with them. They don’t treat you like Oscar’s girlfriend that they’re just meeting for the first time, they treat you like one of their own. Like you’re part of the family already.

His sisters have no shortage of funny stories about him and they don't hesitate to tell you all of them, which you return with a whole slew of stories of your own. His parents, particularly his mum, join in eventually, and it makes you laugh so much your stomach hurts. 

Oscar sinks lower and lower into his seat with every story, cheeks growing pinker and pinker until he looks thoroughly embarrassed of the attention on him. He’s still got an arm draped over the back of your chair, fingers that smooth over your arm and shoulder soothingly (more for his own sake, than anything, really), occasionally pinching where he can when you bring up particularly embarrassing moments of his. 

As night falls, you all move to the backyard, where Oscar’s dad gets the firepit going as you all settle into the various comfy sofas surrounding it. They all insist on not letting you lift a finger to clean up dinner, which Oscar gets a rare free pass from as well, much to his delight. 

Finally alone again after hours of talk, Oscar tugs you down next to him with a loud exhale, slinging an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. 

“You seem like you’re having a little too much fun with them,” He notes. He looks thoroughly unimpressed, as he always does, but you swear you can see a smidge of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. You shrug nonchalantly. “I’m starting to think I should’ve kept all of you far, far away from each other.” 

“What? No! I like it here, Osc,” You giggle at last, leaning into his side. You fit perfectly under his arm as if you were made to slot in right there, cheek smushing against his chest, knees drawn up to yours as you smile innocently up at him like you’ve never done wrong in your entire life. 

“You mean you like ganging up on me.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Yeah, right. Sure,” He snorts. You press a kiss to the side of his neck to placate his huffing and puffing, another to the underside of his jaw, then his cheek, everywhere you can reach until he gets fed up with your teasing and plants his mouth on yours for a proper kiss. 

There isn’t much kissing that can be done before Oscar’s family comes back outside, but you’ll take what you can get from him at this moment. When you pull back, he looks pleasantly dazed, a little unfocused in the eyes to go hand in hand with his almost noticeable kiss-swollen lips.

“I really like your family, Osc,” You whisper, stroking a thumb under his eye tenderly. All Oscar can do is blush the same color as your lipgloss smudged on his mouth and nod. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

“I think my mum would’ve strangled me if I didn’t bring you round to meet everyone soon. The texts she’s been sending have been oddly cryptic,” He says solemnly, looking entirely serious. You burst into a bout of giggles so infectious Oscar can’t help but start to chuckle himself, until you’re both laughing uncontrollably with no real reason why. “Y’know, I think we need to call it a night.” 

“Why? You still think there’s a chance of starting where we left off earlier?” You tease. Oscar shrugs, head cocked to the side like the thought had crossed his mind, and you scoff, elbowing him lightly. “In your dreams, babe.” 

“I was actually talking about beating jet lag, but hey, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

[forzalando]

i hate to disappoint everyone currently following me for f1 content but i wrote for the first time in a long time yesterday and it was all david corenswet!superman😀

fics (hopefully) landing soon!

[forzalando]

still alive guys but unfortunately life is still kicking me in the shins, lungs, and kidneys repeatedly LOL i miss you all. i am keeping up with f1 and oh boy is this one a wild ride!!!!

if any moots see this: love you, thinking of you, wishing you well🫶🏼

just checking in to let everyone know that i am alive😀

[forzalando]

After 239 entered races.

After 15 seasons.

After close call after close call.

Nico Hülkenberg has finally done it.

The curse is broken.

Nico Hülkenberg is a Formula 1 podium finisher.

[forzalando]

just checking in to let everyone know that i am alive😀

[forzalando]

rb to give your mutuals a silly little paper valentine card and a red heart shaped lollipop 💖

[forzalando]

anytime i see anything to do with franco colapinto the “MY SHAYLA” tik tok sound plays in my head. i desperately need him back on the grid, he is my emotional support rizz master 5000 driver😔✋🏼

[forzalando]

hey marissa!! happy new year!! sending all the most lovely vibes to you!! <3 i'm going to hit you back with 14 and 19 :)

adore you, sending lovely vibes to you as well💛 happy new year!! cheers to a wonderful 2025 for us both

14. favorite book you read this year

i feel like this might be cheating bc none of you can read it from this rec (yet) but one of my best friends is writing a romantasy series and i am one of her beta readers🥹 i am so unbelievably proud of her for finishing the first book so that is my favorite of 2024. and also remarkably bright creatures.

19. something i’m excited about this year

finishing grad school (MBA in international business) with a 4.0 (if everything continues to go accordingly, fingers crossed)😊 and then after that happens, finally moving out and getting my own place lol

end of year asks here - if you’d like to send any in!

[forzalando]

End of the year Asks

Song of the year?

Album of the year?

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Movie of the year?

TV show of the year?

Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

Favorite actor of the year?

Game of the year?

Best month for you this year?

Something that made you cry this year?

Something you want to do again next year?

Talk about a new friend you made this year

How was your birthday this year?

Favorite book you read this year?

What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

Post a picture from the beginning of the year

Post a picture from the end of the year

A memorable meal this year?

What’re you excited about for next year?

What’s something you learned this year?

What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

Favorite place you visited this year?

If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

[forzalando]

happy new year (a little early lol) to all of you wonderful people💛

in all honesty, 2024 has been a truly awful year. i’ve been pretty absent the past few months dealing with quite a bit (and i feel so guilty for it, i sincerely apologize) but i am hoping and wishing for a better 2025.

however, one thing i am so thankful for from this year is all of you!! the f1 tumblr community, all the truly wonderful friends i have made - you have been an overwhelming bright spot in a year of sadness and struggle. thank you all for every message, ask, kind word, like, reblog, comment, etc. it has all meant the world to me.

i hope 2025 brings all of you everything you are working and wishing for💛

[forzalando]

I AM SOOOOO SAT

happy (almost) new year! this year, to celebrate, i’ll be rewinding to some previous fics and series, with some blurbs centered around new years traditions and superstitions from this list. to bring us luck and good times in the new year:

eat 12 grapes at midnight // in motion

eat honey // born to run // mv33

take a dive // strawberry wine // mv33

wear red // all you got // cl16

open a window // tangerine // op81

these blurbs can mostly be read as standalone as well, but to check out the original fics, check my masterlist!

i’ll also be extending this to my hockey blog with these fics:

drop ice cream (on purpose) // dog days // Nico Hischier

crack open a pomegranate // just friends // Jack Hughes

this post will serve as the masterlist. check back here throughout the day on New Year’s Eve for the fics! thanks for all all the support over the past year, and happy new year to everyone!

[forzalando]

this is so sweet and lovely and adorable UGH. i teared up a bit, i love this so, so much.

kait, you always write the most perfect fics. forever in awe of you.

the way you love

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: loving george russell is as easy as breathing sometimes, especially with the way he loves you. loosely inspired by stardust by zayn. (2.8k)

a/n: welcome to the first of four holiday fics! i'm hoping to post one a day until christmas eve, so stay tuned :)

Maybe you should’ve waited inside for George to pick you up. 

Granted, you haven't been out here long, and you know he’ll be here soon, but it’s cold. Frigid wind whips your hair around your face, scraping over your skin harshly. 

You nuzzle a little deeper into your scarf in a poor attempt to protect your cheeks. 

The two cardboard cups clutched in your hands do help a little with the biting cold. One for you, one for George, both filled to the brim with steaming coffee from the little shop down the street from your building. 

They’ve rolled out their holiday cups today, as noted by the festive little scene printed across the sleeve. It makes you smile, and you think George will probably like it too. 

George’s sleek car pulls up in front of you with a gentle rumble not long later. You’re expecting him to be smiling when he gets out, but when his head pops over the roof of the car, he just looks concerned. 

“Blimey, have you been waiting out here the entire time?” He exclaims incredulously, rounding the front of the car quickly. 

You barely have time to nod before he’s easing the cups out of your grip. Only once they’re secured into cup holders inside the car does he grab your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to breathe a little warmth back into them. 

“Didn’t want you to have to wait on me,” You say, as if it’s any excuse to have been standing in the freezing cold. Really, you just wanted to see George as soon as he came to pick you up. You’ve just seen him only last week, but it feels like forever. 

“Darling, it’s freezing,” He reasons. He’s smiling now, despite the attempt to keep his firm composure. 

You frown. “I missed you.”

He kisses you instead of answering, short and sweet, but still bursting with affection. 

“Hi,” You say softly, nuzzling deeper into his broad palm after he pulls back an inch or two. His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, bringing some more much needed heat back into your skin. You won’t tell him, but your nose had been starting to lose a bit of feeling. 

“Hi. I missed you too,” He replies, fondness dripping from his tone. 

“Yeah?” 

“Of course. Longest five days of my life.”

That makes you grin even harder, pushing forward for another quick kiss. “Mine too.”

“Glad we feel the same.” He looks very pleased. “Shall we get a move on? We’re a little early, but I know how much you hate being late to things. I even told Alex to expect us early.” 

You’re set to head to Alex Albon’s Christmas party in a little bit. George goes every year, but this is the first time you’re going too. You’re excited, nervous, and a little bit scared at the prospect of finally getting to meet all of George’s friends at one time. You've met a handful of them individually, gradually, George happily introducing you as his girlfriend every time, but never in such a large social setting like this party. 

You aren’t quite sure what to expect, but if the ones you haven’t met are anything like the ones you have, you’ll be just fine. 

“And what did he say about that?” 

“That Lily is relieved someone competent is coming round to help out, so I’d say he’s pretty okay with it,” George says, chuckling. “C’mon, let's get you out of the cold.” 

You allow George to help you into the car, letting out a comfortable sigh at the blazing warmth of the car interior. George has always liked to keep your shared spaces running hot despite your wishing for the opposite, but for the first time ever, you’re actually grateful for your boyfriend’s temperature preference. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” He teases as he climbs into the driver’s seat, nudging at your shoulder. “See, I told you you’d come around someday.” 

“Only because it’s cold as shit outside,” You huff, rolling your eyes playfully. “I got you coffee.” 

“Thank you, darling. Though I wish you hadn’t sacrificed your health to do so.”

“I know you had another late night yesterday, thought you might be tired. It’s fine, really, I didn’t mind,” You insist, shaking your head. 

“You’re very sweet,” George says softly, leaning over the center to press a kiss to your cheek. 

You’re not sure what comes over you, but you turn at the last moment so he catches your lips instead. He lets out a noise of surprise, but has no hesitation in kissing you back happily, slipping a hand around the back of your neck to pull you closer. 

You kiss and kiss and kiss until your lips start to tingle, and even then, you’re reluctant to pull away. There’s something intoxicating about kissing George that makes you want to do it forever. 

“If we stay here any longer, we might actually end up being late,” George murmurs. He blinks at you, long lashes fluttering open and shut slowly. His breath fans across your skin on every exhale, cologne invading your senses until all that surrounds you is him. 

“That would be bad.” 

“Mm, awful,” He agrees. Still, he doesn’t make any attempt to pull away, perfectly content here, hiding away with you in the coziness of your close proximity. His nose drags along your cheek, lips following the path until he reaches the corner of your mouth. 

You exhale shakily. “Alex and Lily are expecting us.” 

“They are.”

“So we should go.” 

“I mean, we don’t have to…” George trails off, letting his head tilt to the side. 

“Yes, we do. Someone roped us into helping with party prep.” 

He sighs rather heavily, handsome features screwing into overdramatic annoyance. “Starting to regret that right about now.” That makes you giggle. “Alright, fine. Let’s get this over with so we can go home.” 

“There’s that holiday spirit!” 

The drive over to Alex’s is fairly short. It actually takes more time to make yourselves presentable and not at all like you’ve just been making out in the car, before making your way up to Alex and Lily’s. George has brought presents for both of your friends—a watch for Alex and a bottle of perfume for Lily, he’d informed you in the elevator, bought by him, but a gift from the both of you. 

The door swings open with a blast of music and the smell of something delicious not seconds after you knock. Alex stands just behind it with a gracious smile on his face and a flute of something bubbly in hand. 

“Hi, welcome—oh, thank god you’re here,” He breathes. Then he stops, stares at the two of you for a few moments, as if he’s studying the both of you. A knowing smirk quirks his lips right after. “George, you’ve got lipstick on your chin, mate.” 

George’s hand flies up to his face, rubbing furiously. His cheeks have flushed an embarrassed pink at his friend’s smug observation. 

“I’m just kidding. But it was funny to see you panic,” Alex snickers. 

“Ha ha, hilarious. Maybe I won’t give you this gift after all.” 

Alex takes both boxes eagerly, tucking them under his arm with a wink. “Come on in, friends.” 

The flat is decorated tastefully—festive, but not gaudy. You assume Lily had done most of the decor rather than Alex.

Speaking of—

“You’re here!!! Thank god!” Lily exclaims, barely paying George any mind before she whisks you away, chattering away immediately, wanting your opinions on everything from the appetizers to the seating arrangements at dinner. You cast a helpless glance over your shoulder at your boyfriend, who merely gives you an amused wave back. 

You do what Lily tells you needs finishing up until the rest of the guests start to make their arrival. Most of the other drivers are in attendance, save for a few who’d opted to spend the holidays home with their families. Charles and Carlos are here, Lando and Oscar, Yuki, Pierre, Zhou and Franco, to name a few. 

The bundle of nerves in your chest starts to unravel as more familiar faces trickle in, and you’re able to catch up with a couple of them. You’re chatting with Kika and Pierre about what’s new with Simba when a hand touches the small of your back. 

Instantly, you know it's George. His touch is the only one that sends butterflies through you. That’s never happened with anyone else before, but with George, you feel alight with a certain energy every time. 

You lean back into him on instinct, tilting your head up to look at him. His cheeks are slightly rosy, hair still perfectly coiffed, save for one curl that has escaped to hang over his forehead. You reach up to brush it back and he smiles, sliding a hand around your waist. 

“So sorry to interrupt, you lot. Just wanted to pop in and see if anybody needed a refresher on their drinks,” He offers, though his gaze rests solely on you. 

“Thank you, but we’re good, mate,” Pierre replies, as Kika shakes her head to decline too. 

George says your name, lips lifting into a small smile as he juts his chin at your nearly empty glass. 

“Thank you, Georgie,” You say gratefully. “Don’t forget to—”

“Make it sweeter? Yes, I know how you take your drinks, darling,” He hums, kissing your cheek quickly before retreating with your glass. 

“You’ve trained him well,” Pierre teases, winking at you. 

“I think he was born that way,” You admit. 

That isn’t a lie. According to George’s sister, who you’d had the pleasure of meeting a few months back, he'd always been very kind, very caring, even when he was young. It’s one of the many qualities of his that has you falling in love with him a little more with every passing day. 

George leaves you to your own conversations after bringing you your drink, but you see him periodically throughout the night. He always looks like the life of the conversation, talking animatedly, listening with rapt attention when he’s not yapping away. 

Even as he’s listening intently, it’s like he can sense you’re looking at him, because he finds you almost instantly, sending a smile or a wink your way. That’s another lovable quality of his—knowing where you are even when he’s not with you. Like you’re two magnets being pulled towards each other at all times.

The more you chat with everyone else, one thing becomes obvious. George talks about you a lot. Not enough to be obnoxious, but he's mentioned you to many of his friends. 

Charles knows you’ve been looking into learning how to play the piano because George had asked him something about which pianos were the best. Yuki offers up a few cooking tips because George had mentioned you wanted to try your hand at a new dish. Lewis congratulates you on a big project you’d finished at work a while back, telling you that George had been singing your praises in the garage right after you'd called. 

If you look back at it, George has always been one of your biggest supporters. 

Always wanting you to call him whenever something big happens because he can’t be there all the time, always doing things for you when he’s away so you never for a moment feel like he's not thinking of you. Sending you flowers, ordering you food from your favorite spot in Monaco even though he's a thousand miles away because he knows it’ll make you smile. Even just texting you a picture of something he saw that made him think of you. 

George makes you feel so, so loved, all the time. Like, wherever you are in the world, no matter, everything will be okay because you’ve got him. You could be on some far off deserted island in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the land to live off of, but if George is there with you, it wouldn’t be all that bad. 

Sometimes you wonder what your life would’ve been like if you’d never met him, but you never get far with those thoughts. You can’t even imagine what life would look like without George Russell. And honestly, you don’t really want to. 

“Ready to head out?” George’s voice draws you out of your thoughts, and when you refocus, he’s right in front of you, holding out your coat. For a moment, you can only stand there, blinking back at him like you’ve just laid eyes on him for the first time ever. 

He falters a little under your intense staring. “Darling? Are you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” 

“Sorry, yeah. I’m fine, I’m just…tired, I think.” 

“Let’s go home then. Stay the night at mine?” 

“Duh,” You say. Your obvious tone makes George chuckle a little bit as he helps you slip into your coat.

“How silly of me to even ask.”  

After finding your hosts to thank them for the great evening and subsequently being invited for a game of doubles padel with them one of these days, you're off. 

“I don’t have any skin cleanser,” You say suddenly, just as George has pulled onto the main road.

“What?” 

“At your place. I don’t have my cleanser, the one I always use before bed.” 

“The one in the little green bottle?” 

“Yeah.” You frown, slumping back in your seat. In hindsight, it’s really not the biggest deal in the world, and you’re not sure why you’re making it one. But for some reason right now, you’re focused on it. 

“Lucky for you, your wonderful boyfriend bought a bottle just in case this happened. He figured you’d probably forget it one of these days.” 

“Is there a reason my wonderful boyfriend is referring to himself in the third person?” You giggle, shifting in your seat to face said thoughtful boyfriend. George’s cheeks are flushed a little pink. 

“Yeah, I thought it was a little weird too. Anyways, there’s a bottle in the bathroom cupboard.” 

“Thank you, Georgie. You’re always so thoughtful.” 

“Y’know, you could just move in with me. That way you won’t have to worry about not having things at mine anymore.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he speaks, but you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows nervously. “You’ve already got loads of stuff there anyways, why not just bring it all? You wouldn’t have to drive across the city every time you come over, for one.” 

“I barely drive to yours anyways, you know. You always insist on picking me up,” You tease. George smiles, but you can tell he’s serious about wanting you to move in with him. You sigh, squeezing his hand. “Babe, I’d love nothing more, but…I could never afford to live with you.”

“I’m not going to have you pay rent or anything like that, darling. I wouldn't ask that of you.” George’s nose wrinkles, like it’s absurd of you to even think about it. “Just your company would be more than enough, honestly. Make the place less empty, more like…home.”

You can already imagine it. Falling asleep next to each other every night, waking up tangled together every morning, getting to come home and unwind with each other after long days. Breakfasts and afternoon teas and dinners you’d make together in George’s massive kitchen. Your stuff mingling with his in every room of the place. 

Maybe you’d adopt a pet together one day, one that could keep you company every time George was away for races. 

“Okay,” You say softly. You’ve already convinced yourself. “Let’s live together.” 

George pulls to a stop at the red light, taking the opportunity to lean over into your space and kiss you gently. “Let’s do it, darling.” 

Taking the next step in your relationship seems daunting, but George will be there to soothe any anxieties you have. He always is. 

“Oh no! We forgot about the coffee.” He frowns, plucking the still full cup out of the holder suddenly. Then he shrugs, taking a giant sip of it. “Cute cup.” 

“George, it’s cold!” You exclaim, tugging at his sleeve. “Just throw it out when we get home.”

“It tastes fine!” 

“It’s probably stale.” 

“I think it’s delicious.” 

“You’re so weird.” 

He chooses to ignore the muttered quip, letting a giant grin stretch his lips instead, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You called it home.” 

“Well, it is now, isn’t it? Or will be soon enough.” 

“Sure will. I’m thinking we move you in tomorrow.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. “I have to get out of my lease first. It might take a while too, my landlord is kind of an asshole.” 

“I’ll give him double whatever you’re paying right now to let you out of it early. No, triple.” 

“I don’t think he’d appreciate bribery, but he is a Mercedes fan.” 

“Paddock passes and VIP club access to Monaco next season, done.”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new writing :)

[forzalando]

i love saying “i’m being normal about it” bc i’m actually a filthy fucking liar and i’ve never been normal about anything a single day in my life

[forzalando]

literally obsessed with this and i’m so team oscar, i’m going to simply die if oscar isn’t endgame😔✋🏼

★ MASTERLIST

it's nice to have a friend lando is one of your closest friends… until he sleeps with you and ghosts you. part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

[forzalando]

chicane

max verstappen x reader | 1.6k

you tell max you love him for the first time. accidentally.

cw: r is drunk but happy, max is charming and tipsy, being silly and in love, love confessions

a/n: this came to me while i was taking a drunk shower.

--

You're drunk and tonight was perfect.

The late-night lights of the city rush by as you get closer and closer to your hotel, the cab driver content to turn the radio up a little more as you ramble in the back seat.

"It's just so nice that they all wanted to celebrate you," you say. "And for that one guy to buy us all drinks 'cause he's a fan! Oh, look, Max, that one is so pretty."

Max dutifully agrees and gently keeps you from pressing your nose to the glass with an arm around your shoulders. He's less drunk than you are, though he probably had just as many drinks. After his remarkable win today you're glad he let loose. He deserves it. You think he deserves everything, but a night out with the team and his friends and some free drinks is a good start.

And, god, he looks so good like this. Cheeks flushed, hair a little sweaty and tousled from his hands and yours, shirt open a button or two lower than his usual. You abandon the window and look at him instead, watching lights you were so focused on color his face and make his eyes shine.

You're so proud of him.

He laughs. "Thank you, liefje." Oh, did you say that out loud? The hand not twisted in the strap of your top squeezes your knee. He keeps his eyes on your face, mouth curled into a soft half-smile like he can't help but be fond of you.

The cab driver says you're just about there and Max pulls away from you to hand him some cash and a thought hits you full-force, louder in your head than the rush of his car across the finish line earlier today.

You love him.

Did you say that out loud, too? No, no. He gives no indication of having heard you so you don't think so. But the realization fills you with awe, with lightness, with joy. You laugh to yourself and Max shoots you an amused glance. You'll tell him, probably. At some point. But for now it's like the best kind of secret, new and exciting.

Max slides out of the cab first and holds a hand out for you. Beaming at him, you take it and don't let go as he tugs you up through the hotel doors and across the lobby to the elevators.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

It's like a song in your mind that syncs with the beat of your heart. You probably have for months, now. Maybe even as soon as you met him. How could you not? He's so good to you. Kind, patient, gentle. Funny, generous, intuitive. Quick to own up to his mistakes, willing to apologize when he's in the wrong. He's taught you so much about communication and healthy boundaries, about hard work and discipline.

Max says your name, pulling out of your lovesick musings. "Do I have something on my face?" he asks you, wearing his signature amused smirk and raised brow. You've been staring at him. The elevator arrives and you pull him into it, hitting your floor number and then the close button as quick as you can.

"No," you say, cheerily. "You're just handsome."

He rolls his eyes but welcomes you into his space, steadying you with a hand on your hips as you press your lips to his in the solitude of the elevator. It's a near miss -- you manage to catch the corner of his mouth, but Max redirects you easily for a proper kiss, slotting your lips together perhaps a little sloppily but it's exactly what you wanted.

A robotic voice announces your floor and Max pulls away first, pressing one more chaste kiss to your mouth before threading your fingers together and leading you down the hall to your room.

"Did you have fun tonight?" you ask him. He waves his room key in front of the pad and it lights up green.

"I did," he says, holding the door open for you to sneak under his arm. "Did you?"

You kick off your shoes and look around your shared room. Clothes draped on chairs, your suitcases lined up next to each other on the luggage racks. Max's laptop and meeting notes on the desk, the book you bought at the airport. It makes that feeling in your chest swell even more. You want to share space with him for the rest of your life.

"Yeah," you say. "I always have fun with you, Max."

He snorts at your enthusiasm but allows it, toeing off his sneakers and sitting heavily on the bed. You stand between his knees automatically and card both hands through his hair. He leans back on his palms and closes his eyes, chin tipped up. You could do this for hours, probably. It's always worth seeing him relax, let his walls down. Even when you're out with everyone on a night like tonight, blissfully loose and celebrating, you know he's not quite who he is when it's just the two of you. It's Max's nature to have these masks. They protect him.

But you protect him, too. You let him be himself.

"Are you hungry?" he finally asks, words slurring just the smallest bit. Probably from your fingers on his scalp more than the alcohol, really. "Want me to order some room service?"

It's the best idea you've ever heard and you tell him so. "Fries, maybe?" you suggest. "Oh, and a Diet Coke. For sure. And ice cream!"

"Okay, okay," he laughs, sitting up again and grabbing your wrists so he can kiss both of your palms. "Go shower and I'll call down."

"Shower!" you gasp, your drunkenness making your enthusiasm impossible to contain. "Such a good idea. You're so smart, Max."

He laughs, a bright, boyish sound. You would bottle it up if you could.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

This time it slips out.

"I love you," you say, beaming, without a second thought. "Wow, I can't wait to eat some fries."

You're so excited about this turn of events that you don't register his reaction, don't realize what you've confessed. You just head for the bathroom, grabbing your sleep clothes on the way and humming to yourself.

It's not until you're rinsing the fancy hotel body wash from your skin that you hear your own words in your ears.

You told Max you love him.

The water is warm but you shiver. "Oh god," you whisper to yourself.

Obviously you meant it. That's not the problem. It's just not really how you wanted to say it -- drunk after a night out celebrating his race win, thanking him for ordering you some 1am room service. Max deserves romance. You should have waited for a dinner date, or a night at his place this week, whispered it while you're both wrapped up in his sheets.

But now he knows. And does he feel the same?

You turn off the spray and wrap yourself in one of the huge, fluffy bath towels. He probably does, right? He certainly shows it. Even if he doesn't want to say it just yet you can feel it. In the way he looks at you, the way he looks after you. In his touches, the innocent ones and the not-so-innocent ones, in his gaze and the way he says your name like it's something precious.

He loves you. You're sure of it. You just feel a little silly about the whole thing.

You dry off and slip into your comfies. When you open the bathroom door you find Max tugging off his shirt, clearly planning to hop in the shower, too.

"Food should be here any minute," he says. "They had a few kinds of ice cream, so I got them all."

He turns to you and smiles so wide you feel your cheeks heat. He just looks so happy.

"I was going to tease you a bit," he says fondly, crossing the room to stand in front of you. "About what you said before you went into the shower. But right now you just look so --"

"What, Max?" you ask, pouting a little. He's teasing you plenty, in your opinion.

"Cute," he finishes. "Liefje, you look like a raccoon."

You must look confused because he scrunches his nose at you and cups your face, thumbs swiping at the skin under your eyes. He shows you them, black mascara flecks dotting the pads of them.

"Oh," you say. "Whoops."

"I love you," Max says. "I should have led with that."

Your hands rest on his bare chest of their own accord, feeling the solid warmth of him you know so well. His heart beats steadily under your palm. As sure as his feelings for you.

"Really?" you breathe. You can't help it. Even though you believe him, even though it's not really a surprise, a reflexive sense of doubt swells in your throat. Can life really be this good? Can you have someone who loves you, someone who takes care of you, someone as good and kind as Max?

His brows furrow for just a second before he clearly surmises that you're just drunk and starry-eyed.

"Really," he echoes. He kisses you just once, soft and sure. "I'm going to shower. Leave some fries for me?"

You nod dutifully. "Obviously," you say. "You get some of my fries because I love you."

There's that laugh again -- unguarded, transforming his whole face.

"I'm a lucky guy," he says.

[forzalando]

landoscar layout to celebrate, been crying for hours, what a day

how are y’all doing?😀