onepointsixkm

[onepointsixkm]

edited a deeply embarrassing mistake I made before publishing. editing in app rather than on the website SUCKS!!! seriously i admire whoever uses phone/tablet to primarily write…

also lightly edited to fix a continuity error i noticed. thanks for understanding!!!

Across the Stars (and back to you)

Summary: A chance encounter with a mysterious girl leads to love at first sight, and Zhou Guanyu chases that feeling through Neo Monos, learning new things about himself and the world around him through her eyes as he does.

featuring: ZG24 x fem!reader (nicknamed "Nova"); cyberpunk!au

notes: happy chinese grand prix! had to write something for my fave ♡ inspired by cyberpunk 2077 (specifically edgerunners). i really want to stay at your house by rosa walton was on repeat (mv contains edgerunners spoilers!). i love this genre so so so much. i have so many more ideas and would like to keep going with this AU! (i may have a part 2 planned tee hee) also photo manipulation is my worst enemy, putting takemura's cyberware onto zhou was such a pain!!! but it looks good so... worth it. no second person (you pronouns) used.

word count: 7,019

It was the way his heart stopped beating when he saw her that he knew.

The way it skipped wasn't just a cyberware malfunction, wasn't just his blood pump not working. It was love at first sight, and Zhou Guanyu knew it.

"Zhou, what the fuck, man—"

"Are you okay?"

He ignored his friends, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc, as he pushed himself out of his seat. The lights and the people were both dancing in Atlantis, the biggest club in Neo Monos. It was so hot and so bright and so claustrophobic that Zhou was surprised he even saw her standing on the dancefloor.

He noticed her implants first. Her back was completely covered in wires and carbon fiber, the metallic shell running down her spine. Her backless dress didn't even bother hiding what she was. He could see her neural implant on the back of her skull, attached to her metal spine, and he winced, running his hands over his own implants that covered his neck.

She noticed him as soon as he was a couple meters away from her, her eyes locking with his. He faltered in his step.

"Sorry," he said softly as he approached, his voice barely audible over the music and the crowd. "I just…"

He bit his lip, his words failing him. A smile played on her lips. She reached out a hand — he tried to ignore the way half of her arms were cybernetic, wires and metal joints keeping her together — and moved when he took it to shake. Instead, she pulled him towards her. She pressed their bodies together, swaying to the infectious beat of the club music. He stood, stiff, unable to force himself to move.

They locked eyes. Her eyes were twinkling playfully, a smirk toying with the corners of her lips. She reached for his other hand, pulling him to sway to the music with her. He flushed; he'd never really danced before. He swore that he could hear Lando's laughter echoing over the music, and wondered if Oscar had said something funny, or if Lando was laughing at him.

Zhou couldn't blame him. He probably looked like as stiff as a tree.

She leaned in closely, her lips ghosting over his ear. "Relax," she whispered. He shivered, her voice caressing his brain in a strange, yet soothing way. "Let loose a little. Dance with me."

"I don't know how," he admitted.

Pulling back, her amused smile only grew. "Put your hands here," she dragged his hands to rest on her hips. His brain nearly short circuited. "And just… feel. Let yourself go."

His fingers twitched, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "Let go… yeah." He slowly started to move along to the almost tribal beat of the music, briefly wondering if he looked as insane as he felt. When she started to move with him, his shoulders relaxed. He stared at her, watching as she closed her eyes and let herself sway rhythmically.

His heart started pumping faster in his chest. He made a mental note to have Oscar look at his blood pump later. His fingers tingled against her skin, and he took another breath, hating how it shook when he exhaled.

She opened her eyes. "You nervous?"

"No," he quickly shot back. "Just not used to this."

Lifting a delicate eyebrow, she reached up and let her hands rest on the front of his jacket. "So, you don't dance with strangers at random clubs on a Thursday night?"

"Not usually."

"I'm honored." The song ended, and she stepped back as the beat renewed, another roar of life surging through the dancefloor. His hands fell from her hips, and already found himself aching for her touch. He swallowed dryly. "Buy me a drink?"

He mindlessly followed her to the crowded bar, barely noticing when the bartender wandered over. "Whatever she orders," he said. The bartender looked at his company, eyes flickering in surprise. Zhou frowned at the mild disgust that crossed the bartender's face when he laid eyes on the girl's chrome.

"You guys do special drinks?" The bartender nodded, although he looked reluctant. A flash of anger ran through Zhou's veins. "A shot of vodka in mango juice, soda water, and a chili garnish on top." The bartender nodded and set to work, although he threw an unsure look at Zhou before he did.

Zhou leaned against the bar, staring down at the girl. "Chili garnish?" he repeated, eyebrow raised at the strange choice.

She shrugged. "If it's good, it's good." She paused. "I'm Nova, by the way," she told him. "I saw you looking at me from that fancy booth of yours. What's a VIP like you doing down here in the dredges of this shithole?"

Shithole?

Atlantis was owned by Max Verstappen, a successful corpo who'd left the life a few years back after an impressive run of deals that left him filthy rich. As one of the most exclusive clubs in the world, Atlantis was known for being the epitome of the glitz and the glamour that Neo Monos had to offer. It was easily the most successful club in the city, not to mention one of the nicest. Max made damn sure of that before opening it.

"Shithole's a strong word." She rolled her eyes, although she was clearly still smiling. Zhou smirked, amused by her disregard. "You caught my eye. Not many girls walk around chromed up like that."

The bartender passed them their drinks. "Well, that's boring." Nova shrugged and took a long sip. "Chrome can be sexy." She paused, studying him. "You don't sound European."

"I'm not. Chinese." He followed her lead, making a face at the chili hitting his lips. He couldn't say it wasn't unpleasant. He hummed; it was smoother than he thought it'd be going down. "That's actually good."

"Actually?" She laughed, shaking her head. "I have good taste, what can I say?" She took another sip. "Chinese, huh? Must be a big corpo name if you're hanging out in the VIP booth."

He hesitated. He wouldn't normally say he was a big deal, but he assumed that his status as head technical strategist at AloTech — a rising star in automotive development — would be considered impressive.

He pursed his lips; he hated upselling himself. He just shrugged. "I get by." She looked at him expectantly. "I'm at AloTech. Used to be at Sauber Electronics, but when they changed hands, I left." He shrugged.

"AloTech, huh? That's pretty cool. You must be smart for that. I've heard Alonso only brings on the brightest minds of the generation."

He flushed. Hating how he could feel his skin heating up. "I mean, um…" He quickly brought his glass to his lips and chugged, feeling the sweet and spicy drink bite at his taste buds.

She nudged him playfully. "Don't be coy. If you're a VIP in this place, you've got to be somebody." He grinned bashfully. She leaned in, probably to tease him even more, but paused as something caught her eye, her movements slowing. Zhou turned to follow her gaze, but she quickly reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand and pushing him to face her. "Don't move. Trust me."

His brow furrowed, but realization pricked his skin. "You're not here for pleasure," he guessed.

"Fuck no. Not my scene." She let her hand fall, grazing over his cyberware, and turned her gaze back on him. Gone was her playful smile, and in its place was a determined hardness. "Listen—"

"—Zhou—"

"—Zhou. Okay well, listen, Zhou. I need you to get me into the security room in the back. Think you can help me out with that?"

"I… I can't do that."

She sighed. "I wasn't really asking." She lifted her hand, the one she'd touched him with, and he saw the sparks dancing over her palm. "Sorry. You're cute, and any other night, I'd follow where this is going." Her lips were pulled in a sad half smile, and Zhou's heart fell.

He took a step back, his hand flying to his neck. "What the fuck—" His outburst was interrupted by pain blossoming in his implants, shooting up and down his entire cyberware system.

His optics malfunctioned, sending shockwaves through his brain, and he cursed. He'd just upgraded, too. He could feel his OS rebooting, his entire system sparking. His knees buckled, and he felt his body hitting the dancefloor.

Nova squatted in front of him. "It's not lethal. I just need you to cause a scene." She paused. He could feel her fingers grazing his hair. "I'm sorry."

When his optics came back into focus, he was sitting outside the club, the worried faces of Lando, Charles, and Max in front of him. He blinked, looking to his side and seeing another of his close friends, Oscar Piastri, sitting next to him.

Of course they'd called Oscar, a talented cyberware doc, to help him. Oscar grinned as he noticed Zhou's eyes on him. "You're back with us?" he asked, patting Zhou's shoulder. "Gave us all a scare there, mate."

"What happened?"

"You collapsed." Oscar's smile turned serious. "Your entire system was hacked. Force reboots, minor malfunctions, the works. You're lucky it wasn't a complete collapse. Whoever hit you was good."

Ah, right. Nova.

Zhou pushed himself up, shaking his head to hopefully get rid of the ringing. "Why are we outside?"

"You hitting the ground caused mass panic." Max crossed his arms. "Our security feeds all cut out, alarms started going off, and everything went to shit."

"It was a cyber attack," Charles added. "A big one, too. The whole club is down. We don't know what they wanted, what they got, or who they were."

Zhou's eyes darted to each of his friends. Max was furious, clearly, and Charles would probably side with Max. Lando and Oscar were relieved that Zhou was okay, but definitely wouldn't let it go. Cyberware attacks were incredibly dangerous, and to have a hacker who could — and would — attack someone with the most up-to-date implants running around in the city was dangerous.

"You don't remember anything?" Charles asked, his voice deceptively level.

Zhou looked up at his friend. Max ran the night scene, but Charles ran Neo Monos. If he went looking for Nova, she'd be executed by dawn.

"No, sorry," he replied. "Not a thing."

Oscar had insisted Zhou come to his for a checkup the following day. Zhou had been hesitant, knowing that Oscar was good enough to find traces of whoever had done this.

"Looks like you're all good. No traces of leftover hacks in your system." Oscar sat in front of him as he pushed himself to sit up in the operating chair. "Zhou. You know who did this to you."

Zhou had always been bad at lying to Oscar. They'd been friends for years. "I do," he admitted with a sigh.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"They would've killed her if they found her, Oscar." Zhou ran a hand through his hair. "There was just… something about her. She was chromed to hell, man. Never seen anything like it."

Oscar's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean, chromed to hell?" he asked tentatively.

All Zhou could do was make gestures with his hands, unable to find the words to describe her. "It was like she was more machine than person," was what he settled on. "Her back was… it was gone. All of it was just wires and metal and carbon fiber."

Raising one eyebrow, Oscar leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "She, huh?" he mused, a mixture of teasing and disappointment in his voice.

Zhou hesitated for a moment, glancing up at his friend for a brief moment. "I…" He trailed off, mouth moving, but no words leaving him. He hung his head when he heard Oscar sigh. "Mate, I know it sounds crazy, but—"

"No, I know exactly what happened. You thought she was pretty before she hacked your system. Zhou, she took advantage of you. She could've done real damage to you, and you're protecting her?"

"It's not like that!" he protested, although when Oscar laid it all out, it sounded absolutely ridiculous. "I don't know, it just… I saw her, and that was it. I needed to… to get close. To know."

Oscar sighed. "Well, that sure isn't any hack I've ever heard of." He blinked, looking at Zhou. His face softened as he watched Zhou hang his head, running his hands furiously through his hair. "Mate…"

Zhou looked up, looking exhausted from the whirlwind he'd just been through. "What do I do? If Max doesn't kill her, Charles will. I… I don't think she's a danger, not really. I want to find her, but I…" He reached up, gripping the front of his shirt in his fist, right above where his heart was.

"I'm gonna choose to trust you on this," Oscar murmured. He hesitated, eyes glowing for a brief moment as he connected to Zhou's system. "You should contact Lewis Hamilton. He knows everyone who's anyone in this city. Maybe he can help you find the girl you're looking for."

An almost smile formed on Zhou's lips. He slid from Oscar's operating chair, clasping his friend's shoulder. Oscar patted his hand, then turned back around, focusing on the cybernetics on his desk.

"Thank you," he said.

"Don't mention it." Oscar paused, looking up at him with a half grimace. "Seriously, don't mention it. They can't know either of us know."

Zhou nodded in understanding, letting his hand fall from Oscar's shoulder before leaving the office.

Finding Lewis Hamilton was easy. Getting the chance to talk to him was hard. Unlike the rest of the company that Zhou was used to keeping, Lewis wasn't a corpo or a politician. Rather, he was a former merc, famous for being one of the only survivors of a suicide mission that saw the fall of Deckard Inc. nearly a decade ago. According to what information Zhou could find, Lewis had lost everything, and had ultimately retired from the mercenary life, choosing instead to run the Neo Monos underground from behind the scenes rather than as one of its formative members.

Zhou had met a lot of people in his life, some more intimidating than others. Hell, at AloTech, he worked for one of the most terrifying men in the whole world. But Lewis was a whole other brand of intimidating.

The older man, dressed in a red, velvet suit, sat on the couch across from Zhou in his Neo Monos penthouse. He held a glass of wine in one hand, while Zhou sipped nervously at his own. "So," Lewis began, his eyes flashing. "What's a corpo like you want with a washed-up merc like me?"

Zhou had weighed his options before coming here. Of course he had. He had to be able to assess risk before making moves, but sitting in front of Lewis was different than he'd figured.

"Word is you know who's who in Neo Monos." Lewis quirked an eyebrow. "I'd like your help finding someone."

For a moment, Lewis was silent. He studied Zhou closely. Zhou squeezed his wine glass, fearing that he would shatter it if he held much tighter. Lewis hummed, picking up the tablet beside him.

"Guanyu Zhou. Born in Shanghai. Impressive record for someone so young. Four years at AloTech — you must be special to last even a year under that guy. Before that, you were at Sauber Electronics, and before that, the Schumacher Institute. That's where you met Michael's son, is it? Met a bunch of your Neo Monos contacts there. Leclerc, Norris, Piastri… Verstappen." Lewis looked up, his eyes flashing dangerously. Zhou could feel a chill shoot up his spine. "If you know Max Verstappen, then why are you coming to me?"

His throat was dry. Lewis Hamilton was much more dangerous than Zhou had realized. The way he said Max's name was all Zhou needed to understand why Oscar had asked to be left out of it.

He took a deep breath, forcing his heartrate to slow. He studied Lewis; the older man's body language wasn't threatening. It was defensive. He knew that he wouldn't get answers from Lewis by being dishonest or hiding anything. In just the few minutes he'd been in the room, Zhou understood that Lewis wouldn't help him if he didn't at least give him something to work with.

"Last night, there was a cyber attack on Atlantis," he began softly. Lewis nodded. He'd clearly heard about the event. "Someone hacked my system and shut it down, then used the commotion to attack the club. No one was hurt, and Max can't figure out what was they were after. And he doesn't know who did it."

"You want to find who attacked you, but you don't want to involve your friend whose business was attacked?"

Zhou hesitated. He wasn't sure how to properly explain his reasoning, but he bit his lip. Lewis was staring at him, a little sparkle of understanding deep in his eyes. Zhou felt himself latching onto it.

"Have you ever felt love at first sight?" he blurted. Lewis blinked in surprise, the first real crack in his armor.

He quickly relaxed, leaning back with an easy smile. "I see. You want to find her before your friends do. See if she's who you hope she is. See if she's someone worth protecting." Zhou took a hasty sip of his wine, feeling the alchohol burn on the way down. "I normally don't help corpos. Especially not people aligned with AloTech. But… I guess today, I'll make an exception."

He stood, dusting his pants off. Zhou watched as Lewis crossed the room, his eyes lighting up to indicate a holocall. He remained completely silent as Lewis spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line, his hands shaking. He quickly swallowed the last bit of wine in his glass, practically tossing the empty cup onto the table. He took a deep breath, the knowledge of what he was doing finally settling in.

If anyone else figured out where he was and what he was after, he could kiss his safety in Neo Monos goodbye.

The thought made him nervous, he wouldn't deny it. He'd been friends with his group for so long that losing them wasn't an option for him. But he had to know. He had to see where things would lead him.

"Alright." He snapped out of his thoughts as Lewis spoke again, turning to face him from where he stood in front of the window. "Got a lead for you. Turns out, there's a VIP in Neo Monos. First time he's been spotted in literal years. Carlos Sainz, a merc from Spain."

"Sainz?"

"Yep." Lewis popped the "p" sound, picking up the tablet. Tapping away, he added, "If you've heard the name, he's one of Norris's buddies from a few years back. They were at McLaren Industrial together before Norris left for AloTech, and McLaren got cannibalized by Porche." He paused, turning the tablet and holding it out to Zhou. "He doesn't show up a lot anymore — mostly sticks to his office in Mansell Corp — but whenever he goes anywhere, there's a cyber attack. He's got a hacker he's rumored to run with."

Zhou carefully took it in his hands, brows furrowing when he read the article.

Carlos Sainz, 29. Currently head technical strategist at Mansell Corp.

Known associates include Lando Norris (AloTech) and Alexander Albon (Mansell Corp).

Has an unknown hacker associate, code name: Nova.

"Nova…" he breathed out, running his finger over the name.

"That's your girl, then?" Zhou wordlessly nodded. "Shit, glad you came to me. Nova's been a ghost for since she came on the scene. There really isn't a lot of information about her, just that she showed up out of nowhere about two years ago. Just that she's Sainz associated. Not even an image of her." Lewis frowned. "Can you describe her for me? I'm guessing I won't get an image out of your optics since she fried 'em while you were together."

"Honestly, the most distinctive part about her is her implants." Lewis looked at him expectantly. "She had implants all over her body. I could see all the exposed wire and shit in her back, and her arms… they looked like they were barely covered in NuSkin. And her neural implant… it was over half of her skull."

Lewis's breath caught, and he shook his head. "Man, that's… that's something else."

"What do you mean?"

"That girl's a project." Zhou's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to protest, but Lewis held up a hand to stop him. "No, I mean it literally. Before it went under, McLaren Industrial was dipping their toes into cybersecurity. They were trying to do something no one else was doing. Instead of focusing on ICE like most companies were, they wanted to create a group of hackers. They took a bunch of nobodies, kids off the street that no one would miss. They turned 'em all into what you saw. Most died. Couldn't handle that much tech. Nova must be a survivor." Zhou's blood ran cold. He'd heard rumors of such projects existing, but to know that Nova was part of one — was the product of inhumane testing — had his heart dropping right into his stomach.

"That's…"

Lewis scoffed. "Fucking awful? Yeah, you got that right. But that's corpos for you. Shit like that is why I don't work with suits anymore." He sighed, grabbing the bottle of wine and refilling his glass.

When he offered Zhou a refill, Zhou took it without a second thought. He practically downed the entire glass in a single swig. "AloTech… we aren't…" He couldn't even finish his sentence.

"Probably not. At least, not on the books," Lewis agreed. "I don't have any love for Alonso, but he's not a complete piece of shit. He wouldn't experiment on kids, at least." He paused. "Doesn't mean that place is shitting rainbows, though. It's got its own secrets."

Zhou could feel his worldview shattering as Lewis spoke. His whole life, he'd been primed to work in the corporate world, to rise the ranks and eventually, run an entire company for himself. To know that corpos were capable of such brutality shook him to his core.

"I… I need to find her." He staggered to his feet. "If anyone else finds her, they'll…"

"They'll kill her. Yeah." Lewis stood as well, a hard look on his face. "I'll help where I can. But I have to ask: what are you going to do when you find her?"

He didn't say "if" Zhou found her.

Zhou glanced out the window at the city below the penthouse apartment. Neo Monos was beautiful, practically a utopia for corpos. But he'd never seen the world from the perspective of someone who was already at the bottom, who had nothing left to lose. He wondered what Nova had been doing in Atlantis.

What was she searching for?

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm not going to let her go back to whatever… shithole she came from."

Lewis almost smiled. He extended his hand to the younger man.

"That's what I like to hear."

Zhou was looking for her in every corner of the city. His eyes kept darting around, sometimes causing him to lose his train of thought.

"Mate, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Lando finally snapped. "You've been in your own world since Atlantis! I thought you said Osc cleared you — I thought Osc said he cleared you!"

Zhou blinked rapidly. "He-he did." He looked around.

Ah, that's right. I'm visiting Charles's office with Lando as "representitives" of AloTech.

Charles was staring worriedly from where he sat at his desk. He glanced between Lando and Zhou. "Do you want to reschedule?" he asked softly.

"I…" Zhou faltered. He looked at Lando, who shrugged. "Lando can catch me up to speed. I think I'm going to head back to Marine Plaza and get some rest." He stood, offering a stiff, yet apologetic smile to his two friends.

He barely lifted a hand when Charles wished him well, and only nodded when Lando reminded him about dinner with Max and a few others. He thoughtlessly thanked Charles's secretary when she handed him his belongings, his mind racing a thousand kilometers per second as he staggered into the elevator.

His thoughts absorbed him as he emerged into the center of Neo Monos, his eyes wide as he took in the sights. If he had been as lucky in business as Max, or maybe had decided to pursue politics like Charles, he would've been able to settle down in this city. It was only the third time he'd been to Neo Monos, and in that moment, he was really seeing it for the first time.

There were people bustling around, happily chattering to themselves and to each other. It was like they were unbothered by the plight of the world around them. He wondered if any of them knew about the debate over art preservation happening in in Milan, only a four hour drive north, or about the industrial worker uprising in Montpellier, the same amount of travel time to the west. He wondered if they knew what was happening to the sex workers in his hometown of Shanghai, or even about the ongoing corporate scandal in Northern California.

These people were all living in a utopia, one that would be so easily shattered if they bothered walking outside of their bubble. But, then again, maybe that was why Neo Monos existed. To allow people to get away from it all.

And then, there was a familiar voice on the air, shaking him from his thoughts and violently yanking him back to reality.

"Thank you very much. Have a good one." His eyes immediately locked onto the source. He saw her — Nova — walking away from a food stall, probably a pop up by one of the local places, a pastry clutched in her delicate hands.

His feet carried him forwards before he could even think. He kept his eyes trained on her back as she made her way back into the crowds. Even with her cybernetics almost completely covered, he could never forget that voice.

His heart almost stopped when she made to turn the side of a corner building, and he pushed himself to move just a bit faster. He caught her arm as she began to round the corner. She spun, eyes wide, almost dropping her pastry. He reached out and caught it before it could hit the ground, still not letting go of her arm.

"Nova," he breathed.

Her eyes went even wider, and she took a step back. She tried to yank her arm from his grip. He only tightened his hold.

"Let go," she warned, her voice low. "I'm not afraid to do it again."

"Wait." He held up her pastry. She looked at him warily, and he sighed, letting his hand slide down her arm until he was cupping her hand in his. He turned her hand so the back of her hand rested in his, and he put the pastry right in her palm. "I'm not here to hurt you. I-I'm sorry I scared you. I just… wanted to talk."

She watched him for a moment, searching his eyes for any sense of dishonesty. When she couldn't find any, she sighed, relaxing. "Just talk?" she asked, still staring at him like he'd change his tune.

"Just talk."

Nova bit her lip and looked around. She seemed to sag in relief. "C'mon. Let's go somewhere else." He nodded, feeling his fingertips tingle as he allowed her to take him by the hand and lead him through the city center to the waterfront.

She stood at the edge of the harbor, looking out at the ships as they came and went. Zhou only watched her, taking a seat on the bench just behind her.

"I really am sorry about what happened a few days ago." She paused, biting her lip. She dropped his hand, and his fingers twitched, already missing her touch. "I mean. What I did."

Zhou shook his head. "I can't really say I understand. But I'm not hurt. There was no permanent damage. I'm okay. It's okay." He stopped himself from word vomitting any more than he already was, instead watching for her reaction.

She fidgeted under his gaze. "It must've hurt, though."

He shrugged. "If it did, I don't remember it." He reached out, wanting to put his hand on her arm reassuringly, but he paused. She was so small, curled into herself. His fingers curled, and he pulled his hand back, instead gripping his knee.

Taking a large bite of her pastry, she chewed slowly, making a face when she swallowed. "This place is so expensive, and somehow, the food tastes like shit." She sighed, sitting next to him. In silence, she took another bite, this one so much smaller.

For a second, Zhou watched her. "Why are you here?" The question slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

Her fingers tightened around the pastry, crushing it in her grip. "Because… because I have to be." She pursed her lips. The crushed pastry fell, hitting the ground, as she hung her head in defeat. Zhou could see the NuSkin covering she wore on the back of her head to hide her neural implant, and he frowned. His heart ached.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She laughed humorlessly. "For what?"

"I… I did some digging. Asked for help finding you." She looked surprised, but that surprise quickly morphed into something akin to horror. "I'm sorry, I—"

"You know about me, then?" she asked. His stomach turned at the hardness in her voice. "About…" She gestured to her body — her implants.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath. Suddenly, the ships entering the harbor seemed much more interesting. "Yeah."

There was a long, tense moment of silence between the two. Zhou could feel his stomach aching, acid bubbling in his throat. He wanted to vomit out another apology or some sort of comfort, but he couldn't find the words. He cursed himself internally.

She stood sharply, purposefully stepping on the remnants of the overpriced pastry. She dug her heel into the pavement as she turned, leaning down to bring their faces close. He almost jumped out of his skin, eyes wide at their proximity.

"Well, you found me, so it's my turn. Let me show you something." She reached down, grabbing his hand. "C'mon." He couldn't say a word as she pulled him off the bench. His feet mindlessly followed her, his eyes trained on her back as she pulled him through the city. He didn't even pay attention to where he was going as she turned corner after corner, dodging people and cars, until they reached a hidden stairway that led to a doorway.

She pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them. He gaped at the little one room apartment. It was maybe the size of his closet, with only a tiny window letting in light. The room was practically covered in monitors, their light illuminating the mattress in the middle of the floor.

"Is this…?"

"Mine? For now, yeah." She knelt down on the mattress, grabbing a cardboard box and rummaging through it. "Sit down, I want to show you this." He obeyed, still transfixed by her living space. The mattress was hard under him. He wondered if she'd ever been comfortable a day in her life. "Stay still. This'll be weird, but I promise it's safe."

He sat as still as he could, so much so that he felt like he would freeze in place. She gently turned his wrist, pulled out his personal link, and jacked it into the port on her wrist. He shivered; it was such a strange experience, linking to someone else. She never took her eyes off him as she plugged her own personal into his wrist, a deep, shuddering breath leaving her body.

Careful to not disturb the wires that linked them, she leaned forward and lifted a dark cloth to his face. He leaned back. "What—"

"Trust me. It helps with immersion." He nodded slowly, ordering his body to relax. She was gentle as she tied the cloth around his eyes, darkening his vision completely. "Okay. Close your eyes."

He did.

There was a buzzing in the back of his mind, a soft itch in his wrist, and then, his thoughts were flooded.

It was so dark.

Zhou had never experienced darkness like it before. He looked around, panic creeping through him.

"Hey."

Nova.

"Relax. It's safe." It was like she appeared from out of nowhere, emerging from the darkness. "I'm showing you why I'm here." She took a deep breath. He couldn't see much, but he could feel her fingers twining with his. "Just follow me."

He obeyed without question. They walked through the darkness, her hand tightly wrapped around his, and he stared at her. He knew it was a dream, something she was sharing with him through their link. He wondered if that was why she wasn't hiding her implants.

He could see her neural link, could see her metal spine, her carbon fiber back, and all of the wires wrapped around her. His chest hurt with a deep pain that he couldn't quite place.

"It doesn't hurt." He blinked. "These implants, I mean." She turned to shoot him a half smile, one filled with an emotion he couldn't identify. Her smile widened at his confusion. "We're linked, Zhou. I can hear your thoughts."

Oh. Does that mean you can see my memories?

"No, but only because I'm not looking." She squeezed his hand. "I'm letting you see what I want you to see, and I'm only trying to hear your thoughts so we can talk."

I see.

"You don't understand at all, huh."

Nope.

She laughed. It was a pretty laugh, clear, like a bell. "C'mon." Like she had only a few minutes before, she pulled him with her. "We're almost free."

His ears perked up at the word. She said it so reverently, so wistfully. He held his breath as the darkness parted, a light at the end of the tunnel growing brighter and brighter as they picked up the pace. They went faster and faster until they were running, breaking away from the dark.

Zhou blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the darkness was gone.

Instead, they were standing on a beach. He was taken aback by how much he felt. The sand against his skin felt so real. He'd never smelled the ocean before, not like this, but he knew it was just as real. He stared out at the sea, letting the sound of the waves crashing against the shore echo. It was so loud, but it was so soothing, too. The setting sun bathed his skin with its warmth. He couldn't remember feeling anything like it, even if it was the same sun as he felt every day.

"This is where I lived after I got out of that place." He didn't look at Nova, but he squeezed her hand encouragingly. "This is freedom. I can be whoever I want to be here."

"Then why aren't you still there?" he asked, glancing over at her.

She smiled wryly. "Because I don't belong to myself." She took a step closer to him. "I have a friend who helped me get out. But he can't protect me forever. They tried to take me back, and he negotiated for me. We can buy my freedom if I do enough for those people."

His eyes widened. The pieces were falling into place. "That's… that's barbaric," he choked out.

"That's business." She shook her head. "It's okay. One last job, and I can go back to this place. It won't be a dream in just a few days." She smiled, this one filled with genuine hope, and Zhou's heart skipped a beat.

"One last job, huh?" he mused. "It'd better be an easy one."

She was silent for a moment. He hated that her smile fell right off her face, regret and sadness taking its place. "The job… it's to get rid of Max Verstappen," she admitted. He suddenly felt sick. "They want him taken down, and they think the best way to do it is to make him guilty of insider trading and manipulation. To make his deals illegitimate."

It was a smart plan, as much as he hated to admit it. Max was practically untouchable in the grand scheme of things, positioned as one of the most loved business owners in Neo Monos. With allies like Charles and Lando, both wielding power in their own ways, Max was protected from most outside attacks. But if internal data implicating him in a criminal scandal was to emerge, there wouldn't be anything anyone could do to protect him.

"I…" He was at a loss for words as he took a step back, the shock rocketing through his whole body. He didn't even notice as he dropped her hand.

She followed him, stepping forward. "That's why I was at Atlantis. I wasn't there to take anything." She took both of his hands in hers. Their eyes met, and he could see the remorse and desperation shining in her eyes. "I don't want this. You can help Max, tell him whatever you want. Keep this from surfacing. Or, at least, keep his enemies from finding proof."

"Why?"

"That night, you looked at me like I was a person."

"Because you are."

She shook her head. "Not to most people. They look at me, and they see a chrome freak. A cyber addict. Or, worst of all, a tool they can use." She squeezed his hands again, and took another step closer to him. He didn't move, his fingers still limp in her hold. "You're the first person since I got out to not look at me like that at all."

"How could I?" he replied, the words finally coming easily to him. His fingers slowly closed around hers, gripping her hands tightly. "You're… incredible. Most people wouldn't last a second with that much tech. You've got to be seriously strong to not just live, but keep your mind whole."

She almost laughed. "That wasn't your first thought when you saw me, though."

He froze. "No." His admission was slow, but not hesitant at all. "It's because I think you're pretty."

"Even when I'm made of wires?"

"Doesn't make you less of a person." He summoned all his bravery and took another step closer, dropping her hands in favor of wrapping his arms around her. "I wanted to know."

"Know?"

He could feel his breath hitting her lips. "I wanted to know if what I felt was real." He paused, feeling his heart beating out of his skin. "It is." He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

She pulled back, gently pressing her palms against his chest. "Wait, Zhou." He paused, worry creasing his forehead. "Sorry, no, not a bad thing, I promise. I just… want it to be real."

He immediately understood. "Jack us out," he murmured.

The world began to flicker. The sunset over the ocean disappeared. The ocean, too. Then the beach. And finally, her.

He closed his eyes.

His senses slowly flickered back to life. He opened his eyes, but he still only saw darkness. He remembered that he still had the blindfold on, and he reached up to take it off.

A pair of hands stopped him, the touch achingly familiar.

"Wait. Just one more minute." Her voice was wavering. He paused, letting her pull his hands down from his face. "Was that… real?"

"Is what real?"

"You fell in love with me that night? And still felt that way, even after I shorted your tech? And even now, knowing that my job was to hurt your friend?"

He could hear her trembling, could feel her shaking. He reached out blindly, running his hands up her arms until he reached her shoulders. They were cold to the touch, the NuSkin unable to mask the carbon fiber and metal that made up most of her body.

"It's real."

The next thing he felt was her lips pressed against his. They were warm, fully hers, without any augments or changes. So were her tears. He held on tighter, reveling in the way her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. Even though she her body was still wracked as she silently cried, he held her, letting her use him as her rock.

When they parted, she pulled the blindfold off, and as his eyes were adjusting to the light, he grinned widely. "Any chance that beach of yours has room for two?" he asked.

"Maybe," she teased, running her fingers over the cyberware on his neck. "You'll have to stick around to find out."

He took a deep breath in, a pleasant shiver running up and down his spine. He hummed, leaning to press his forehead against her neck. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He was worried that his words would be muffled, but, judging by the way her breath hitched, there was nothing to be worried about.

"By the way, my name isn't actually Nova," she admitted. She leaned in and whispered her real name into his ear. The sound of it sent a shiver down his spine. She pulled back with a small smile. "Now you know something no one else does."

Message: Lewis Hamilton Found Nova. You were right about where she's from. Those bastards are still blackmailing her. Making her buy her freedom. You said you've got no love for corpos, right? Any chance you'd be willing to make it so they can't hurt her anymore?

Message: Guanyu Zhou Abso-fucking-lutely. Just let me know what you need. Oh, and congrats on getting the girl.

[onepointsixkm]

dream on, dreamer ┊ part 1

Summary: Life is a series of disappointments. Overwhelmed by everything crashing down around you all at once, you head to Monaco in hopes of finding yourself, only to find something else entirely.

featuring: LN4 x fem!reader (other drivers x unnamed wags mentioned)

notes: truth be told, this is a bit of a therapy piece for me. I hope you enjoy the product of this recorded therapy session between me and my word document lol (this got so monstrous that I broke it up into 2 parts; part 2 should be coming soon!)

word count: 7,414

You had always liked to believe that you were destined for greatness.

Whether it was when you were the star of your soccer team when you were only five, or when you scored the lead role in your school’s play at nine, or when you got that solo in chorus when you were twelve, or the time you made varsity as a freshman, or any of the times where you knew you were special. When you knew that one day, the whole world would stop to look at you, stare at you, and finally see how special you always knew you were.

But that day never came.

Instead, you graduated high school — at the top of your class, mind you — and went on to university. One of the top universities in the country, too. You couldn’t have been prouder of yourself. You knew that you would continue to shine brightly well into your college career.

You wondered what it was that killed that spark.

Was it when you walked into class that first day, and no one turned to look at you? Was it when you failed your first test, or got a below average mark on your essay? Was it when you sat alone in the campus café, eating lunch by yourself? Or was it when you cried into your pillow, debating whether to call your parents to come get you because you had failed to make friends?

You weren’t sure who you were anymore.

If you weren’t special, if you weren’t the center of attention, you didn’t know if you were anyone. Your entire life, you’d been taught that you were gifted, talented. Exceptional in every way. But now, you were swimming in a sea so much bigger than you’d ever imagined, and you were doing it alone.

So, you kept your head down. A few months in, you finally made friends. It took your ego being completely crushed for you to walk into a club, months after registration, with a new humility in your step. It felt so easy, to smile back at people, to sit with the girls your age as you laughed and talked, the feeling that you were better — special — finally just a dull ache in your heart.

Maybe, you thought, this was maturity.

But in the back of your mind, there was that quiet reprimand of the you that you once were. She berated you for forgetting how brilliantly you once shone, for letting that sparkle slip away. She screamed at you in the quiet of the night, her scornful words accenting the sirens that rang through the city and kept you from sleeping. You laid awake at night, staring at your dormitory ceiling, and tried to fight back. Tried to keep her cruel words from latching onto your brain and tearing you to shreds.

She’s right, you eventually started to think. What am I doing?

It was all too much.

Your brain and your heart were at war, and you were being torn in two by their vicious game of tug-o-war. It was months of you shredding yourself into pieces, working yourself towards a degree you weren’t even sure you wanted anymore. You were angry at yourself, at the world, and at the people who had turned you into this.

“Gifted,” they’d called you. You wondered if they were laughing at you as you failed another easy test.

It only enraged you further. With every bad mark, you lashed out. And you lashed out harder and harder until it was impossible to forgive. Your friends were patient with you, they knew that you were spiraling, but it got to the point that they could no longer make excuses for you.

“We can’t keep letting you treat us like this,” your best friend (ex-best friend?) explained calmly as she held your hand. You sobbed, holding onto her like she was your only tie to this world. “I know you’re having a rough time. But you need to pull it together. You can call me when you’re ready to be a person again, but for now, I have to put myself first.”

Months passed. Grades slipped. Friends left.

Until it was only you.

You weren’t sure what finally broke you, but maybe it was when you spilled coffee on your old laptop. She wasn’t much, but she was yours, and she’d been with you before your life had started to fall apart. And all of those memories were gone, short circuited by the caffeine you had become reliant on to make it through the day.

You called your parents the next day.

Less than twelve hours later, you were on your way back to your parents’ house, your meager belongings packed up and all of the bad memories abandoned. You didn’t know what you were going to do now, but you knew that it would be better than this.

It wasn’t long before that thought became a wish.

Letting yourself go was easy. It was so easy to just sit around and hope that things would be better the following day. You began to waste away, the monotony of day in, day out settling into your bones. You worked a shitty part time job with shitty people that you hated, came home, ate dinner, and let the exhaustion that had seeped into the very core of your being drag you down into your blankets. It was like that every single day. Things were not getting better.

“Mom,” you finally declared after months of sitting around, promising that tomorrow would be the day you got your life together. “I’m going to go to Europe. I think it’d be good for me. To figure myself out.”

Your mom hummed. “It’s only been—”

“It’s been nine months, mom,” you cut her off dryly. She sighed, the type of sigh that she only sighed when she knew that you were right but didn’t want to admit it. “I can’t just hide in my room for the rest of my life.”

“You’re being a bit dramatic. You’re only twenty-one.”

“And I’m old enough to drink in the States. I want to do something amazing with my life, and that won’t happen if I’m stuck here. Or just… stuck. In general.”

She offered you a smile, one you recognized from her years of trying her best to understand, even when she didn’t. “Okay. Let me talk to your father. Come up with a game plan before he asks you about it, and we’ll go from there, okay?” she gave in, wanting to appease you and for you to find that spark again.

She missed you while you were gone, and if this helped bring you back, she’d agree to it.

Your plan was simple. Your dad worked with a guy who owned a vacation house in Monaco, and you would ask to stay there for a few months. You weren’t entirely sure what your plan was going to be once you were in Monaco, but you figured that you’d find your way as you spent time in the city-state. Until then, you’d just let it happen as it happened.

Your mom always told you that “everything happens for a reason,” so you wanted to believe that things would work out the way they were supposed to.

Three weeks later, you were on a plane with just a suitcase in the bottom of the plane and your backpack filled with the things you held most dear. It was painful, seeing your mom tear up as she hugged you goodbye. Your father tried to keep it together as he held you tight, but you swore you saw his eyes growing glassy. You had to turn away before your own tears fell.

College an hour away and a country halfway across the world were so vastly different, you realized. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to you until you were handing your ticket to the boarding agent and getting on the plane.

You remained lost for the entirety of the plane ride. You weren’t sure how many episodes of Friends you’d made it through, your mind too distracted by the twists and turns of what led you to this moment. To a flight to Nice, France, where you’d catch a train to Monaco, where you would stay for the next few months.

No job prospects, no friends, no college education.

Just you and your laptop against the world.

And so, as your first day in Monaco began, you found yourself sitting in a café, sipping on an overpriced coffee, with your laptop in front of you. A blank word document was displayed on the screen, the cursor taunting you as you stared into the white void. Your favorite album played on repeat through your headphones, the lyrics you normally loved beginning to sound more like your own special version of purgatory.

You almost wanted to drop your head to the table and groan, but you knew that you’d seem like a crazy foreigner. Instead, you slowly closed your laptop and reached your shaky hand for your coffee, taking a long sip like it was some sort of cure for the loss inside you.

“Sorry, is this seat taken?”

And then came him.

Lando Norris waltzed right into your life, like something out of a shitty romance novel or Hallmark movie. All smiles and confidence. Even though you didn't know who he was at first, you could feel the wealth oozing from him in every sense of the word. If the way he carried himself and the way he dressed didn’t tell you everything you needed to know, it was the car he’d rolled up in.

(You’d checked — that car was likely worth more than your entire college tuition.)

But he spoke to you like a normal person. He’d politely thanked you when you told him no, the seat’s not taken, please feel free to sit down, and proceeded to strike up a conversation with you. He asked you about where you were from, clocking that you weren’t from around here thanks to your accent, and what you were doing in Monaco. He just sat there and listened to you speak as he took miniscule sips of his own drink.

You were vague, because there was no way that you were going to spill your life story to this guy you just met, but he was empathetic when you admitted that you were going through a rough time and had come to Monaco to try to find yourself, whatever that entailed.

“Well, there’s a lot of ways to find yourself here. Monaco may be a small city, but it’s got a lot to offer. Why don’t you let me show you around?” he offered with a cheeky smile.

Even though you knew, deep down, what kind of person he was, just from that, it was hard not to fall for it. He was a sort of endearing confident, the type that you knew would shatter if you decided to reject him. It was a facade. The same kind of mask that you were wearing. And so, you’d agreed, giving him your WhatsApp and telling him that you were free the following day.

“Sounds good,” he’d replied easily, sending you a message so you could contact him. You heard your phone chime, but didn’t reach for it. “Tell you what, send me where you’re staying, and I’ll drive you around. Give you the grand tour of this wild, wonderful place.”

He’d winked at you as he left, his nearly untouched coffee in hand, and you’d stared after him.

You’d gone back to the apartment you were staying at, your mind in a daze as you put your things down. You pulled your phone out and stared at the contact at the top of your screen.

Lando Norris.

You knew Monaco was filled with rich and famous people, and you found yourself switching to Google and entering your new acquaintance’s name before you could even take a second to think it through.

Lando Norris, born 1999. Formula 1 driver for McLaren since 2019… holy shit, how much is he worth?

You nearly dropped your phone at the amount of money Lando supposedly had. You wondered if there was a mistake with a decimal or something, because there was no way someone like him had stopped to speak to someone like you.

Things like that just didn’t happen to you.

And so, when you tentatively sent him a text with the Maps location of your temporary housing, you didn’t actually expect a reply. But less than ten minutes later, he’d replied, promising to pick you up around noon the following day. You gaped. Was this really happening?

You barely slept that night, still wondering if you would wake up and it would’ve been a dream. But when noon the following day hit, and you got a text from Lando simply saying be there in 15, you realized that it was definitely not a dream.

You dressed as nicely as you could with the clothing that you’d brought with you, but you knew it was nothing compared to the girls Lando had been seen with before. You bit your lip, staring in the mirror. You forced a smile, but dropped it when you saw your face twist unpleasantly. Was that really what your smile looked like? You made a mental note not to smile too much with him.

But as you slipped into his (far too expensive) car, that note went out the window. He made you smile, made you laugh, more than anyone else had in your entire life. He took you around Monaco, pointing out all of the things to do in the city. He showed you the casino, of course, and laughed when you dryly pointed out that it was definitely too rich for your blood. So, instead, he took you to a nearby café that he claimed was his own secret spot. He called it a hidden gem, one that only the locals knew about.

He greeted the workers inside like they were friends, and the workers clearly recognized him, too. They brought out his usual order in what could’ve been record time, and asked what you wanted with a kindness you had yet to receive in Monaco.

You glanced at the menu and stammered, unable to figure out what you were craving. Lando stepped in, asking for what you’d gotten the previous day at that other café, the one that was probably twice as expensive as this cute little hole in the wall place.

“Are you sure you’re okay sharing this place with me?” you asked quietly. “I don’t want to… invade your privacy.”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m sure. One person knowing won’t turn this place into a circus.” He paused and narrowed his eyes, although you could still see the playful twinkle in them. “You’re not gonna post this anywhere, are you?”

You held up your hands. “Not a chance. I don’t even have social media to post on.” You laughed, adding, “Not like anyone would be there to see it.” But even though you were laughing, he frowned.

“Is that why you’re really here?” he asked quietly.

“Sorry?”

“You said you don’t have socials, and that no one would look at them if you did. Something went wrong for you, didn’t it?” You froze in your seat, staring at him in horror. He bit his lip and shook his head, panic overtaking him. “Sorry, forget I said anything. My friends are always joking that my mouth is faster than my brain—”

“Yeah. That’s why.” He stopped when he heard your quiet admission. You stared down at your coffee like the latte art held the secrets of the universe. “Honestly, I… I needed a fresh start. Away from the feeling that I’m letting someone down by just existing.”

Silence fell between the two of you, and for a moment, you were worried that you scared him off. But instead, Lando sighed. “I get it. Expectations suck.”

“Tell me about it. I just wanted to be a writer, but I… I think I’m not even cut out for that.”

He studied you for a moment. “Tell you what, have you ever been to a Formula 1 race?” he asked. You shook your head, wondering where this conversation was going. “Well, let’s change that. I’m on summer break right now, but we’ll be back in full soon. Come with me to one of the next races.”

“Lando, you just met me.”

“So? You’ve never just,” he snapped his fingers, “clicked with someone before?”

“Not someone who’s offering to take me with them around the world. Fuck, man, I’m a struggling college dropout who’s here on a shoestring budget.”

“Let me worry about the details.” He grinned, like he knew you’d eventually give in. You gaped at him. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

“I’m sure it will be, but—”

“No buts! Let’s do this.”

You leaned back in your seat, wondering if you ever stood a chance against this impossibly stubborn man in front of you. His grin never left his face.

And that was the start of your friendship with Lando Norris.

You weren’t sure exactly what he saw in you, but you clicked instantly. You spent the following few weeks with him, wandering the streets of Monaco and taking fun little day trips all around Europe. He showed you new places and had you trying new hobbies, like sim racing, which you found out that you were quite bad at.

He even had you meet his colleagues and friends who lived in Monaco. You got along well with all of them, but you spent the most time with Carlos, Charles, Max, Alex, and George. They were always happy to tell you all the most embarrassing stories about Lando, much to his protests, and took you out to clubs and fancy restaurants.

Sometimes, you felt guilty, since you knew that you wouldn’t have been able to afford to even step foot in some of these places without them. But they always assured you that you weren’t a burden, and that they were happy to have you with them.

You even met some of Lando’s childhood friends, like Max Fewtrell. Embarrassingly enough, Max F. had burst through Lando’s front door when the two of you had been relaxing, you typing away at your computer and him playing Call of Duty.

“Oh, fuck me,” you heard Fewtrell swear. “Lando, you muppet, you didn’t tell me you had a girl over.”

You turned a bright red while Lando hissed, “Max!” and pulled his old friend away to chat in the kitchen, where you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear were some vague whispers as they spoke, and you did your best to ignore them, pushing your curiosity down.

But as you looked at the clock, you bit your lip.

It was way past dinner, and you and Lando hadn’t eaten yet. Had you really lost track of time so easily? You pushed yourself up from the couch and stuck your head into the kitchen. Fewtrell and Lando looked at you with surprise, and you smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’ll let you get back to whispering about me, but I just wanted to ask if you guys were hungry?” You gestured at the clock. “It’s almost 8:30.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I was here,” Fewtrell said. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner, Lando. But, um, if you’d like…” he trailed off, not knowing your name. You quickly gave it to him, and he smiled in relief. “You’re welcome to join, too, if you’d like.”

Lando made a face. In the few weeks that you’d known him, you recognized that look of disgust. He was definitely not feeling up to going out, not after the paparazzi had snapped pictures of the two of you at lunch a few days prior. People were already searching for you on social media, and you were suddenly thankful that you’d scrubbed all of your Internet presence clean months ago.

“I think I’d rather stay in,” you replied with an apologetic smile. Lando glanced at you, but said nothing. “But we could get takeout instead? All three of us?”

Fewtrell glanced at Lando, who was only looking at you. “Yeah,” he finally said, his voice quiet and slow. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You beamed. “Great. I’ll call that pizza place you like, Lan.” You bustled out of the kitchen, but not before you heard Lando.

“My card’s in my jacket!”

“I know!”

As you laughed and made your way to the front hall closet, you heard just one sentence from Max Fewtrell: “I like her. Make sure you don’t fuck it up, muppet.”

The dinner itself was uneventful. The two best friends took turns telling you stories about the other, competing to see who could embarrass who the most. You laughed at every story, almost choking on your pizza a few times as you glanced at Lando in disbelief. He was turning a deeper shade of red with each story, but Fewtrell didn’t let up on his torment.

It was after Fewtrell left, throwing a pointed look at Lando before he slid out the door, that things turned. There was silence as the two of you sat in Lando’s apartment, trying to return to what you were doing before Fewtrell had joined you. You sat at your computer, all inspiration drained as you stared at where you’d last left off, the sounds of Lando’s game echoing through the otherwise silent apartment.

Finally, Lando sighed, pausing his game. He turned to you with a hesitant grin. “Sorry about him barging in like that,” he said. “He sometimes does that. I forgot to, uh, tell him that you were here.”

“Oh, it’s no issue, Lan,” you replied easily. “He’s your best friend. Of anyone who could barge in, it’s him. I’m just sorry I interrupted your male bonding time.”

He made a face. “Don’t put it like that.” You laughed, shaking your head, and returned to your computer. Lando was quiet for a moment, but he then added, “And I’m sorry about his… um… comments. He’s not used to me having girls over that… well, you know.”

You hummed. Lando’s reputation preceded him. “It’s okay, Lan. And if I’m ever in the way of you wanting to ‘you know,’ just tell me and I’ll get out of your hair.” You glanced up to shoot a smile at him, but faltered when you saw him staring seriously at you.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he protested. “I don’t want to have any other girls over.” Your mouth opened, and you made a soft noise of realization. “Max was… he told me not to fuck it, but here I am, fucking it.”

You quickly shook your head. “No, Lan, you’re not… but are you sure?”

He moved to sit in front of you, closing your computer and moving it to the side. He grabbed your hands, holding them, and stared into your eyes. You couldn’t look away. “You have to stop asking me that at some point,” he murmured.

It was magnetic, the way your lips touched. There wasn’t a spark or fireworks, but it was safe and warm and comfortable. Your eyes fluttered closed as Lando pressed forwards, kissing you with all of the feelings his words failed to convey. You squeezed his hands as you kissed him back, and he squeezed back.

As he slowly, tentatively, pulled back, your eyes met his. “Wow,” was all you could whisper, and he laughed, quiet and breathy.

“Yeah. Wow,” he echoed, his lips turning upwards in that familiar smile.

The two of you fell into a rhythm that night, sharing kisses and warmth and everything else. He looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you looked at him like he made the sun shine.

It was natural, you realized, like breathing.

He held your hand delicately, and he shielded you as best he could whenever you went out in public. But you couldn’t escape forever. People began to speculate.

Your picture began to show up on gossip sites and social media pages, attached to Lando’s name. He advised you not to look at the comments, and you listened. You weren’t keen on going back on social media sites anyways, so you stayed blissfully ignorant, just happy to exist in your bubble with Lando.

You were snuck into the paddock at the next race by Lando’s team, and you hid in his driver’s room during the actual race. He wasn’t ready for you to be with him in public, and you couldn’t say you blamed him. He was protective, and he saw all of the comments that were hurled at you online, so you agreed easily when he asked if you could wait just a little longer to be official in the eyes of the fans.

Still, you had a great time. You hung out with some of the people you’d met back in Monaco, and met new people, like Lando’s teammate, Daniel Ricciardo. He was easy to get along with, and kept you company at dinner when Lando got up to get drinks the night of qualifying.

“So,” he asked, “how’d you and our favorite muppet meet?”

“Um… he approached me in a coffee shop like a month ago. I was new to Monaco — still am, to be honest — and he offered to show me around. We kind of clicked, started hanging out, and… well, here we are.”

“Here you are,” Daniel echoed, a grin on his face. “He’d best be treating you good. You’re putting up with a lot, dating an F1 driver.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” you admitted. “I don’t have social media, though, so I’m lucky enough to not see much of anything. Lan’s pretty protective, too. But, honestly, Danny, even if it’s a lot, it’s worth it to me.” You smiled at him, and he smiled back, a knowing settling between the two of you.

Lando set your drink on the table in front of you, sliding to sit between you and Daniel. He slung an arm over your shoulder. “Well, the two of you are getting along, aren’t you?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh, yes, we were just talking about Danny’s incredible podium tradition,” you replied dryly. “Have you been made to do one yet, Lan?”

“Do what, a shoey?” He laughed in disbelief. “Fuck no, and I hope that I’ll never have to.”

“Oh, just you wait, Norris. You’ll do one before my time on this team is up.” Daniel leaned back with a self-satisfied grin, taking a long sip of his drink.

Lando rolled his eyes and sipped at his own drink before turning to you. “You good, love?” he asked softly. You nodded with a smile. “Good. Let me know if you ever want to get going.”

You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, Lan. I’m good.”

Lando kept his arm around you as he turned back to Daniel, who had begun to wax poetic about how, even if it was the last thing he did, he would ensure that Lando did a shoey on the podium with him at least once. The two began bickering, with Lando loudly protesting that there was absolutely no way that he would ever drink from a shoe, while Daniel kept telling him that it was an inevitable podium tradition.

You laughed at the two of them, shaking your head as you watched with an amused twinkle in your eyes.

The following night, you joined the rest of the grid to celebrate the race. The music was loud and the drinks were flowing, and you finally met some of Lando’s gridmates’ girlfriends. They quickly added you to what they called “the WAG chat,” and, despite the intense abnormality of the life you’d found yourself being thrown into, you felt at ease.

You’d made friends in this weird world you’d suddenly found yourself living in.

“You sure you’re comfortable?!” Lando asked, having to raise his voice for you to hear him over the music pulsing through the club. “We can leave if you’re tired!”

You giggled with a shake of your head. “Lan, go celebrate with your friends!” He looked at you, like he was waiting for a different answer, but you pushed him away. “Go!” you urged with a grin. He flashed his own winning grin at you before he planted a kiss on your forehead and scurried off to join Max and Charles on the dancefloor.

“That was sweet,” Charles’s girlfriend said. “I’m glad Lando’s finally found someone. You’re good for him.”

A blush took over your face. You looked away and cleared your throat. “He’s good for me,” you admitted.

“I’ve never seen Lando like this before. I didn’t know he was such a lover boy when he was super into someone. I’m glad you’re here.”

Those words echoed in your mind for the entire night, even as you finally flew back home to Monaco. Lando was curled around you during the flight, snoring softly as you stared out the window. From across you, Max was watching intently, a small smile on his face.

“What?” you whispered.

He shook his head. “Nothing. Just happy for him. Take good care of him, you hear?” You nodded in agreement, reaching up to run your hand through Lando’s hair.

Every race weekend was spent like that. You flew out with Lando and some of his friends, snuck into the paddock, and watched the race from his driver’s room. You celebrated with the grid and their partners, and forged strong friendships with each of them.

With each weekend, you and Lando’s relationship deepened. You finally confessed everything to him. You told him about the mental health issues that plagued you, about the voices that rang in your head and pulled you down with them. He held you and kissed you, and promised that he would keep the voices quiet as long as you would let him. You buried yourself deeper into his warmth, taking in all of him as he swore that he would protect you.

But all good things had to come to an end.

Your time in Monaco was coming to a close, and you would have to return home. You’d barely been back to your temporary residence since you and Lando started dating, just to gather some of your essentials to bring back to his place with you. But as you stood in front of him, explaining that you needed to go back, you weren’t sure you were really ready to leave.

Lando didn’t seem to fully understand either. He agreed to take you back to the apartment complex pretty easily, probably not registering that you’d told him you needed to pack. He’d watched as you packed the remainder of your clothing and other possessions into your bags, and brought them back to his apartment.

Finally, as you pulled your suitcase into the bedroom, his face dropped. “What… Are you packing?” He followed you into the bedroom. “I thought you were bringing the rest of your things here.”

“Lan, sweetheart. My flight home is in three days.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” he asked, staring in stunned horror at the half packed suitcase in front of you. “Going home?”

You blinked at him. “Yes? Lan, I was only ever staying for a few months. My dad’s friend let me stay at the other apartment as a favor, and it was always going to be a temporary thing. I have to go home at some point.” You turned to put another of your dresses — a new one, one that Lando had bought for you — into your suitcase.

“No, wait. Please, just… wait.” He grabbed at your arm, holding your wrist tightly. His eyes were wild with desperation. “Stay with me. Don’t go home yet.”

“Lando… It’s not that simple, you know that,” you tried to explain weakly. “Monaco won’t let me stay longer unless I apply for a long stay visa, or fill out some other form of paperwork. And then, I have to pay to get that paperwork filed on time, plus the application fees and the cancellation for my plane ticket. I just… I can’t afford it, Lan.”

“I’ll pay for it. Just… I need you with me.” He sniffled, his desperation warping into sorrow. “I love you,” he managed meekly.

Your heart dropped into your stomach just like your dress dropped to the floor. The two of you stared at each other. You searched for any hint of a lie in his eyes, but for once, there wasn’t that mischievous twinkle. There wasn't even a glimpse of teasing in his blue-green eyes, and you felt yourself choking up.

“You love me?”

He nodded frantically, sliding his grasp from your wrist to your waist, gently pulling you closer to him. “I do. I love you. And I… I don’t want to lose you. Not when I just found you. Please.” His pleading gaze met yours, and you could feel your resolve breaking.

You sighed. You pulled away from his hold and picked up your dress. He almost let out a whine like a hurt puppy as you shook out the dress, but brightened when you walked back into the closet and hung it up.

“Fine, Lan. I will pay you back someday, but for now, thank you.” You planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’ll stay for a little while longer. But,” you paused, hating how you had to say it, but knowing that it had to be said, “I can’t stay forever. You get that, right?”

He easily nodded, his head bouncing so fast that you swore his hair bounced with it. “I get it, I do, I promise!” The assurances fell from his lips so quickly that you struggled to believe that he actually did get it. “Just a little while longer. I just… I want to treasure you.”

Any remaining willpower you had left to argue, to hesitate, drained from your body the instant he said those words, so filled with affection that it blinded you. You rushed forward, hugging him tightly, and he held you just as close. He buried his head into your hair, breathing in like he was trying to memorize your scent.

“Then treasure me, Lando.”

He held you tighter.

He continued to hold you as you phoned your parents, asking to video call with them so you could break the news. You could see the hesitation in your father’s face and the joy in your mother’s. Both of them were thrilled for you, of course, relieved that you’d found whatever it was that you’d been searching for. Something worth staying in Monaco for. Although your father had to be convinced that it was the right idea, to let you go and run free, Lando stayed by your side and vowed to care for you. He swore up and down that he would provide for you and protect you and ensure that your family wouldn’t regret letting you stay. With every solemn promise, you could see the fight leaving your father.

“As long as you’re sure,” he said softly at the end of the call.

Lando kept holding you throughout the rest of the day, barely prying himself away from you as you unpacked all of your things. Your clothes filled his closet, your toothbrush sat on the sink with his, and your life was entwined with his. Something bubbled in your stomach, but you pushed it down.

This is the right choice, you told yourself. I’m happy. I deserve this.

You repeated those words to yourself as the months went on. You attended more Formula 1 races as the season drew to a close, and your constant appearances with Lando were drawing more scrutiny and media attention. You tried to keep your head down any time you went out, but photos of you were being spread like wildfire across the Internet, to the point that even people who you hadn’t spoken to in what felt like forever were sending you messages. You ignored every single one.

Lando was there every step of the way. “Do you want me to post something?” he asked, his brow furrowed worriedly as you confessed that you had basically shut down your messages app. “I can ask for privacy. Most fans will be good about it, but I can’t guarantee all of them.”

“That’d be nice, but maybe not right now,” you replied, trying to reassure him with a smile. “I’m not ready to be a public figure yet.”

He bit his lip, looking like he wanted to say something. You knew it would be something along the lines of I’m sorry, you might not have a choice, but you weren’t exactly ready to hear that. He seemed to understand your wordless plea, and quickly changed the subject. He talked to you about updates to the car, and you nodded along, despite not understanding much.

“I really am sorry,” he said that night as you both went to bed. “If it was up to me, you’d have all the privacy you wanted. I’m sorry I can’t give you that.”

You shook your head, pecking him on the nose. Despite everything — the shameless photos that were taken every time you stepped foot in public, the unwanted messages from people who barely knew you, and the whispers and rumors that spread about you by strangers — you wouldn’t trade him for the world. Even if it wasn’t okay, he would make it okay.

“I’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t get used to it.

As the Formula 1 season drew to a close, you and Lando began to discuss going public and allowing him to confirm your relationship on social media. He reasoned that it would cause the speculation to die down, which would help lessen the pressure on you.

His PR team agreed. They were excited to have a new focus for their young driver, thrilled that they could spin a story about him being in love and bring attention to how he changed your life. To your relief, Lando immediately shut it down.

“If we go public — which will only happen with her permission — I’m going to ask that you leave her out of this. She’s not interested in being a public figure, and I don’t want her to have her personal life dragged up and flaunted. Isn’t it enough that she’ll publicly be my girlfriend?”

You looked at him gratefully as he sternly stared down his PR officers. They looked sufficiently chastised, and sheepishly apologized as they looked over the plan that the two of you had come up with. They made some suggestions, kindly leaving you out of the spotlight, and agreed to allow you to do as Lando suggested.

Three days later, Lando had posted you for the first time on social media.

It was a picture of the two of you on the plane to the final race of the season, captioned with “Lucky charm acquired.” He promptly turned his phone off and wrapped his arm around you, pecking your temple as he assured you it’d be fine. You tried to believe him as you, Lando, and the rest of the drivers that flew on Max’s private plane tried to relax before the weekend began.

“Try not to think about it,” Max’s girlfriend told you sympathetically. She was the only other woman on the flight, and probably the only one who could empathize with you. “I can’t lie and say it gets easier, but you learn to ignore it.”

Well, at least she tried to.

The news had made the rounds by the time you got off the plane. Your phone had exploded with notifications. Anyone who hadn’t already reached out to you had tried to contact you, not to mention the people who already had. Rage boiled inside you as you scanned the names; most of them were people you hadn’t spoken to in years. They were people who’d left you when you were at rock bottom, but now that you were finally happy, they were swarming you, trying to get a piece of whatever you had.

Fucking vultures.

You almost wanted to throw your phone to the ground and shatter it, never wanting to speak to anyone again. But you refrained, instead throwing it to the bottom of your bag and pushing its existence to the back of your mind.

You held your head high as you made your public paddock debut, now officially labeled as “Lando Norris’s significant other.” Although you were shaking inside, his warm hand holding onto yours grounded you. He spoke for you when you were accosted by the press, explaining that you weren’t exactly ready to be a public figure yet, and asking for privacy as the two of you navigated a relationship. Although many reporters looked put out, most of them agreed to his not-so-subtle demands and left you alone.

The news of your relationship died down pretty quickly as the weekend progressed, however, with the race being incredibly controversial, to say the least. The celebrations were extremely awkward.

You were so desperate for anything to distract you from the tense silence of Max’s celebration dinner that you gave in to the WAG chat all begging you to make an Instagram now that you were an official WAG. You were hunched over, staring at your phone under the table as you made your new account. You immediately privated it, of course, and copied your username to send to the chat.

“Did you just make an Instagram?” came an incredulous whisper from your side. You blinked as you turned to see Lando leaning in as close as he could possibly get. He glanced between your phone and you, before pouting. “Hey, give me your username. And don’t accept any of the girls first!”

He pulled out his phone and, faster than you thought fingers could move, typed in your new username. His pout turned to a giddy smile as he pressed the “request follow” button, proudly turning his phone to show you. You shook your head with a smile as you saw the notification pop up. Turning to lean against him so he could watch you, you scrolled past the WAGs who had requested your private account and right to his name, dramatically pausing before hitting “accept.” His smile only grew wider.

“Ha! I’m first,” he bragged, sending a triumphant smirk over to Charles’s girlfriend on the other side of the table. She made a face, then checked to see if anyone was watching before flipping him off. He just laughed.

Charles noticed the interaction and lifted an eyebrow with an amused smile. “What’s all this? Haven’t we had enough drama this weekend?” he asked, his tone teasing.

“Lando’s rubbing his win in my face,” she replied, showing him that Lando was your first follower. “Kind of rude, don’t you think?”

“Oh, yes,” Charles agreed easily, pulling his own phone from his pocket. “Incredibly rude.”

Before you knew it, your Instagram handle was being spread across the table. It turned out that most of the drivers had private Instagram accounts to follow their friends and be a little more unfiltered than they were on their public accounts. Of course, they still had to be careful, since accounts could be hacked, but they were all very excited that you’d decided to join them, even if it wasn’t in a public capacity.

You felt a bit of a buzz as you stared at your follower number. You’d made sure to follow every single one of them back, as well as the public accounts of the rest of the grid, and you couldn’t help but smile.

You couldn’t help but wonder if this was what friendship as an adult felt like.

That feeling progressed throughout the off-season as you continued to hang out with some of the drivers and their girlfriends. You posted pictures of every outing to your private account, and always received comments about how “we should hang out soon!” from multiple people. You always made sure to follow up later. Although it only panned out some of the time, you were grateful for the companionship when it did.

So, you wondered, why did it still feel like something was missing?

[onepointsixkm]

"yuki has earned and deserves the red bull seat" and "under no circumstances is a move to red bull a good thing for yuki's career" are opinions that can live in harmony. i'm mad that he didn't get the promotion and at the same time I know he should NOT go to red bull it will kill him.

[onepointsixkm]

Zhou Guanyu for CN Harper’s Bazaar 2025

[onepointsixkm]

ZHOU GUANYU for Harper's Bazaar China

[onepointsixkm]

Across the Stars (and back to you)

Summary: A chance encounter with a mysterious girl leads to love at first sight, and Zhou Guanyu chases that feeling through Neo Monos, learning new things about himself and the world around him through her eyes as he does.

featuring: ZG24 x fem!reader (nicknamed "Nova"); cyberpunk!au

notes: happy chinese grand prix! had to write something for my fave ♡ inspired by cyberpunk 2077 (specifically edgerunners). i really want to stay at your house by rosa walton was on repeat (mv contains edgerunners spoilers!). i love this genre so so so much. i have so many more ideas and would like to keep going with this AU! (i may have a part 2 planned tee hee) also photo manipulation is my worst enemy, putting takemura's cyberware onto zhou was such a pain!!! but it looks good so... worth it. no second person (you pronouns) used.

word count: 7,019

It was the way his heart stopped beating when he saw her that he knew.

The way it skipped wasn't just a cyberware malfunction, wasn't just his blood pump not working. It was love at first sight, and Zhou Guanyu knew it.

"Zhou, what the fuck, man—"

"Are you okay?"

He ignored his friends, Lando Norris and Charles Leclerc, as he pushed himself out of his seat. The lights and the people were both dancing in Atlantis, the biggest club in Neo Monos. It was so hot and so bright and so claustrophobic that Zhou was surprised he even saw her standing on the dancefloor.

He noticed her implants first. Her back was completely covered in wires and carbon fiber, the metallic shell running down her spine. Her backless dress didn't even bother hiding what she was. He could see her neural implant on the back of her skull, attached to her metal spine, and he winced, running his hands over his own implants that covered his neck.

She noticed him as soon as he was a couple meters away from her, her eyes locking with his. He faltered in his step.

"Sorry," he said softly as he approached, his voice barely audible over the music and the crowd. "I just…"

He bit his lip, his words failing him. A smile played on her lips. She reached out a hand — he tried to ignore the way half of her arms were cybernetic, wires and metal joints keeping her together — and moved when he took it to shake. Instead, she pulled him towards her. She pressed their bodies together, swaying to the infectious beat of the club music. He stood, stiff, unable to force himself to move.

They locked eyes. Her eyes were twinkling playfully, a smirk toying with the corners of her lips. She reached for his other hand, pulling him to sway to the music with her. He flushed; he'd never really danced before. He swore that he could hear Lando's laughter echoing over the music, and wondered if Oscar had said something funny, or if Lando was laughing at him.

Zhou couldn't blame him. He probably looked like as stiff as a tree.

She leaned in closely, her lips ghosting over his ear. "Relax," she whispered. He shivered, her voice caressing his brain in a strange, yet soothing way. "Let loose a little. Dance with me."

"I don't know how," he admitted.

Pulling back, her amused smile only grew. "Put your hands here," she dragged his hands to rest on her hips. His brain nearly short circuited. "And just… feel. Let yourself go."

His fingers twitched, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "Let go… yeah." He slowly started to move along to the almost tribal beat of the music, briefly wondering if he looked as insane as he felt. When she started to move with him, his shoulders relaxed. He stared at her, watching as she closed her eyes and let herself sway rhythmically.

His heart started pumping faster in his chest. He made a mental note to have Oscar look at his blood pump later. His fingers tingled against her skin, and he took another breath, hating how it shook when he exhaled.

She opened her eyes. "You nervous?"

"No," he quickly shot back. "Just not used to this."

Lifting a delicate eyebrow, she reached up and let her hands rest on the front of his jacket. "So, you don't dance with strangers at random clubs on a Thursday night?"

"Not usually."

"I'm honored." The song ended, and she stepped back as the beat renewed, another roar of life surging through the dancefloor. His hands fell from her hips, and already found himself aching for her touch. He swallowed dryly. "Buy me a drink?"

He mindlessly followed her to the crowded bar, barely noticing when the bartender wandered over. "Whatever she orders," he said. The bartender looked at his company, eyes flickering in surprise. Zhou frowned at the mild disgust that crossed the bartender's face when he laid eyes on the girl's chrome.

"You guys do special drinks?" The bartender nodded, although he looked reluctant. A flash of anger ran through Zhou's veins. "A shot of vodka in mango juice, soda water, and a chili garnish on top." The bartender nodded and set to work, although he threw an unsure look at Zhou before he did.

Zhou leaned against the bar, staring down at the girl. "Chili garnish?" he repeated, eyebrow raised at the strange choice.

She shrugged. "If it's good, it's good." She paused. "I'm Nova, by the way," she told him. "I saw you looking at me from that fancy booth of yours. What's a VIP like you doing down here in the dredges of this shithole?"

Shithole?

Atlantis was owned by Max Verstappen, a successful corpo who'd left the life a few years back after an impressive run of deals that left him filthy rich. As one of the most exclusive clubs in the world, Atlantis was known for being the epitome of the glitz and the glamour that Neo Monos had to offer. It was easily the most successful club in the city, not to mention one of the nicest. Max made damn sure of that before opening it.

"Shithole's a strong word." She rolled her eyes, although she was clearly still smiling. Zhou smirked, amused by her disregard. "You caught my eye. Not many girls walk around chromed up like that."

The bartender passed them their drinks. "Well, that's boring." Nova shrugged and took a long sip. "Chrome can be sexy." She paused, studying him. "You don't sound European."

"I'm not. Chinese." He followed her lead, making a face at the chili hitting his lips. He couldn't say it wasn't unpleasant. He hummed; it was smoother than he thought it'd be going down. "That's actually good."

"Actually?" She laughed, shaking her head. "I have good taste, what can I say?" She took another sip. "Chinese, huh? Must be a big corpo name if you're hanging out in the VIP booth."

He hesitated. He wouldn't normally say he was a big deal, but he assumed that his status as head technical strategist at AloTech — a rising star in automotive development — would be considered impressive.

He pursed his lips; he hated upselling himself. He just shrugged. "I get by." She looked at him expectantly. "I'm at AloTech. Used to be at Sauber Electronics, but when they changed hands, I left." He shrugged.

"AloTech, huh? That's pretty cool. You must be smart for that. I've heard Alonso only brings on the brightest minds of the generation."

He flushed. Hating how he could feel his skin heating up. "I mean, um…" He quickly brought his glass to his lips and chugged, feeling the sweet and spicy drink bite at his taste buds.

She nudged him playfully. "Don't be coy. If you're a VIP in this place, you've got to be somebody." He grinned bashfully. She leaned in, probably to tease him even more, but paused as something caught her eye, her movements slowing. Zhou turned to follow her gaze, but she quickly reached up, cupping his cheek in her hand and pushing him to face her. "Don't move. Trust me."

His brow furrowed, but realization pricked his skin. "You're not here for pleasure," he guessed.

"Fuck no. Not my scene." She let her hand fall, grazing over his cyberware, and turned her gaze back on him. Gone was her playful smile, and in its place was a determined hardness. "Listen—"

"—Zhou—"

"—Zhou. Okay well, listen, Zhou. I need you to get me into the security room in the back. Think you can help me out with that?"

"I… I can't do that."

She sighed. "I wasn't really asking." She lifted her hand, the one she'd touched him with, and he saw the sparks dancing over her palm. "Sorry. You're cute, and any other night, I'd follow where this is going." Her lips were pulled in a sad half smile, and Zhou's heart fell.

He took a step back, his hand flying to his neck. "What the fuck—" His outburst was interrupted by pain blossoming in his implants, shooting up and down his entire cyberware system.

His optics malfunctioned, sending shockwaves through his brain, and he cursed. He'd just upgraded, too. He could feel his OS rebooting, his entire system sparking. His knees buckled, and he felt his body hitting the dancefloor.

Nova squatted in front of him. "It's not lethal. I just need you to cause a scene." She paused. He could feel her fingers grazing his hair. "I'm sorry."

When his optics came back into focus, he was sitting outside the club, the worried faces of Lando, Charles, and Max in front of him. He blinked, looking to his side and seeing another of his close friends, Oscar Piastri, sitting next to him.

Of course they'd called Oscar, a talented cyberware doc, to help him. Oscar grinned as he noticed Zhou's eyes on him. "You're back with us?" he asked, patting Zhou's shoulder. "Gave us all a scare there, mate."

"What happened?"

"You collapsed." Oscar's smile turned serious. "Your entire system was hacked. Force reboots, minor malfunctions, the works. You're lucky it wasn't a complete collapse. Whoever hit you was good."

Ah, right. Nova.

Zhou pushed himself up, shaking his head to hopefully get rid of the ringing. "Why are we outside?"

"You hitting the ground caused mass panic." Max crossed his arms. "Our security feeds all cut out, alarms started going off, and everything went to shit."

"It was a cyber attack," Charles added. "A big one, too. The whole club is down. We don't know what they wanted, what they got, or who they were."

Zhou's eyes darted to each of his friends. Max was furious, clearly, and Charles would probably side with Max. Lando and Oscar were relieved that Zhou was okay, but definitely wouldn't let it go. Cyberware attacks were incredibly dangerous, and to have a hacker who could — and would — attack someone with the most up-to-date implants running around in the city was dangerous.

"You don't remember anything?" Charles asked, his voice deceptively level.

Zhou looked up at his friend. Max ran the night scene, but Charles ran Neo Monos. If he went looking for Nova, she'd be executed by dawn.

"No, sorry," he replied. "Not a thing."

Oscar had insisted Zhou come to his for a checkup the following day. Zhou had been hesitant, knowing that Oscar was good enough to find traces of whoever had done this.

"Looks like you're all good. No traces of leftover hacks in your system." Oscar sat in front of him as he pushed himself to sit up in the operating chair. "Zhou. You know who did this to you."

Zhou had always been bad at lying to Oscar. They'd been friends for years. "I do," he admitted with a sigh.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"They would've killed her if they found her, Oscar." Zhou ran a hand through his hair. "There was just… something about her. She was chromed to hell, man. Never seen anything like it."

Oscar's brow furrowed. "What d'you mean, chromed to hell?" he asked tentatively.

All Zhou could do was make gestures with his hands, unable to find the words to describe her. "It was like she was more machine than person," was what he settled on. "Her back was… it was gone. All of it was just wires and metal and carbon fiber."

Raising one eyebrow, Oscar leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "She, huh?" he mused, a mixture of teasing and disappointment in his voice.

Zhou hesitated for a moment, glancing up at his friend for a brief moment. "I…" He trailed off, mouth moving, but no words leaving him. He hung his head when he heard Oscar sigh. "Mate, I know it sounds crazy, but—"

"No, I know exactly what happened. You thought she was pretty before she hacked your system. Zhou, she took advantage of you. She could've done real damage to you, and you're protecting her?"

"It's not like that!" he protested, although when Oscar laid it all out, it sounded absolutely ridiculous. "I don't know, it just… I saw her, and that was it. I needed to… to get close. To know."

Oscar sighed. "Well, that sure isn't any hack I've ever heard of." He blinked, looking at Zhou. His face softened as he watched Zhou hang his head, running his hands furiously through his hair. "Mate…"

Zhou looked up, looking exhausted from the whirlwind he'd just been through. "What do I do? If Max doesn't kill her, Charles will. I… I don't think she's a danger, not really. I want to find her, but I…" He reached up, gripping the front of his shirt in his fist, right above where his heart was.

"I'm gonna choose to trust you on this," Oscar murmured. He hesitated, eyes glowing for a brief moment as he connected to Zhou's system. "You should contact Lewis Hamilton. He knows everyone who's anyone in this city. Maybe he can help you find the girl you're looking for."

An almost smile formed on Zhou's lips. He slid from Oscar's operating chair, clasping his friend's shoulder. Oscar patted his hand, then turned back around, focusing on the cybernetics on his desk.

"Thank you," he said.

"Don't mention it." Oscar paused, looking up at him with a half grimace. "Seriously, don't mention it. They can't know either of us know."

Zhou nodded in understanding, letting his hand fall from Oscar's shoulder before leaving the office.

Finding Lewis Hamilton was easy. Getting the chance to talk to him was hard. Unlike the rest of the company that Zhou was used to keeping, Lewis wasn't a corpo or a politician. Rather, he was a former merc, famous for being one of the only survivors of a suicide mission that saw the fall of Deckard Inc. nearly a decade ago. According to what information Zhou could find, Lewis had lost everything, and had ultimately retired from the mercenary life, choosing instead to run the Neo Monos underground from behind the scenes rather than as one of its formative members.

Zhou had met a lot of people in his life, some more intimidating than others. Hell, at AloTech, he worked for one of the most terrifying men in the whole world. But Lewis was a whole other brand of intimidating.

The older man, dressed in a red, velvet suit, sat on the couch across from Zhou in his Neo Monos penthouse. He held a glass of wine in one hand, while Zhou sipped nervously at his own. "So," Lewis began, his eyes flashing. "What's a corpo like you want with a washed-up merc like me?"

Zhou had weighed his options before coming here. Of course he had. He had to be able to assess risk before making moves, but sitting in front of Lewis was different than he'd figured.

"Word is you know who's who in Neo Monos." Lewis quirked an eyebrow. "I'd like your help finding someone."

For a moment, Lewis was silent. He studied Zhou closely. Zhou squeezed his wine glass, fearing that he would shatter it if he held much tighter. Lewis hummed, picking up the tablet beside him.

"Guanyu Zhou. Born in Shanghai. Impressive record for someone so young. Four years at AloTech — you must be special to last even a year under that guy. Before that, you were at Sauber Electronics, and before that, the Schumacher Institute. That's where you met Michael's son, is it? Met a bunch of your Neo Monos contacts there. Leclerc, Norris, Piastri… Verstappen." Lewis looked up, his eyes flashing dangerously. Zhou could feel a chill shoot up his spine. "If you know Max Verstappen, then why are you coming to me?"

His throat was dry. Lewis Hamilton was much more dangerous than Zhou had realized. The way he said Max's name was all Zhou needed to understand why Oscar had asked to be left out of it.

He took a deep breath, forcing his heartrate to slow. He studied Lewis; the older man's body language wasn't threatening. It was defensive. He knew that he wouldn't get answers from Lewis by being dishonest or hiding anything. In just the few minutes he'd been in the room, Zhou understood that Lewis wouldn't help him if he didn't at least give him something to work with.

"Last night, there was a cyber attack on Atlantis," he began softly. Lewis nodded. He'd clearly heard about the event. "Someone hacked my system and shut it down, then used the commotion to attack the club. No one was hurt, and Max can't figure out what was they were after. And he doesn't know who did it."

"You want to find who attacked you, but you don't want to involve your friend whose business was attacked?"

Zhou hesitated. He wasn't sure how to properly explain his reasoning, but he bit his lip. Lewis was staring at him, a little sparkle of understanding deep in his eyes. Zhou felt himself latching onto it.

"Have you ever felt love at first sight?" he blurted. Lewis blinked in surprise, the first real crack in his armor.

He quickly relaxed, leaning back with an easy smile. "I see. You want to find her before your friends do. See if she's who you hope she is. See if she's someone worth protecting." Zhou took a hasty sip of his wine, feeling the alchohol burn on the way down. "I normally don't help corpos. Especially not people aligned with AloTech. But… I guess today, I'll make an exception."

He stood, dusting his pants off. Zhou watched as Lewis crossed the room, his eyes lighting up to indicate a holocall. He remained completely silent as Lewis spoke to whoever was on the other end of the line, his hands shaking. He quickly swallowed the last bit of wine in his glass, practically tossing the empty cup onto the table. He took a deep breath, the knowledge of what he was doing finally settling in.

If anyone else figured out where he was and what he was after, he could kiss his safety in Neo Monos goodbye.

The thought made him nervous, he wouldn't deny it. He'd been friends with his group for so long that losing them wasn't an option for him. But he had to know. He had to see where things would lead him.

"Alright." He snapped out of his thoughts as Lewis spoke again, turning to face him from where he stood in front of the window. "Got a lead for you. Turns out, there's a VIP in Neo Monos. First time he's been spotted in literal years. Carlos Sainz, a merc from Spain."

"Sainz?"

"Yep." Lewis popped the "p" sound, picking up the tablet. Tapping away, he added, "If you've heard the name, he's one of Norris's buddies from a few years back. They were at McLaren Industrial together before Norris left for AloTech, and McLaren got cannibalized by Porche." He paused, turning the tablet and holding it out to Zhou. "He doesn't show up a lot anymore — mostly sticks to his office in Mansell Corp — but whenever he goes anywhere, there's a cyber attack. He's got a hacker he's rumored to run with."

Zhou carefully took it in his hands, brows furrowing when he read the article.

Carlos Sainz, 29. Currently head technical strategist at Mansell Corp.

Known associates include Lando Norris (AloTech) and Alexander Albon (Mansell Corp).

Has an unknown hacker associate, code name: Nova.

"Nova…" he breathed out, running his finger over the name.

"That's your girl, then?" Zhou wordlessly nodded. "Shit, glad you came to me. Nova's been a ghost for since she came on the scene. There really isn't a lot of information about her, just that she showed up out of nowhere about two years ago. Just that she's Sainz associated. Not even an image of her." Lewis frowned. "Can you describe her for me? I'm guessing I won't get an image out of your optics since she fried 'em while you were together."

"Honestly, the most distinctive part about her is her implants." Lewis looked at him expectantly. "She had implants all over her body. I could see all the exposed wire and shit in her back, and her arms… they looked like they were barely covered in NuSkin. And her neural implant… it was over half of her skull."

Lewis's breath caught, and he shook his head. "Man, that's… that's something else."

"What do you mean?"

"That girl's a project." Zhou's eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to protest, but Lewis held up a hand to stop him. "No, I mean it literally. Before it went under, McLaren Industrial was dipping their toes into cybersecurity. They were trying to do something no one else was doing. Instead of focusing on ICE like most companies were, they wanted to create a group of hackers. They took a bunch of nobodies, kids off the street that no one would miss. They turned 'em all into what you saw. Most died. Couldn't handle that much tech. Nova must be a survivor." Zhou's blood ran cold. He'd heard rumors of such projects existing, but to know that Nova was part of one — was the product of inhumane testing — had his heart dropping right into his stomach.

"That's…"

Lewis scoffed. "Fucking awful? Yeah, you got that right. But that's corpos for you. Shit like that is why I don't work with suits anymore." He sighed, grabbing the bottle of wine and refilling his glass.

When he offered Zhou a refill, Zhou took it without a second thought. He practically downed the entire glass in a single swig. "AloTech… we aren't…" He couldn't even finish his sentence.

"Probably not. At least, not on the books," Lewis agreed. "I don't have any love for Alonso, but he's not a complete piece of shit. He wouldn't experiment on kids, at least." He paused. "Doesn't mean that place is shitting rainbows, though. It's got its own secrets."

Zhou could feel his worldview shattering as Lewis spoke. His whole life, he'd been primed to work in the corporate world, to rise the ranks and eventually, run an entire company for himself. To know that corpos were capable of such brutality shook him to his core.

"I… I need to find her." He staggered to his feet. "If anyone else finds her, they'll…"

"They'll kill her. Yeah." Lewis stood as well, a hard look on his face. "I'll help where I can. But I have to ask: what are you going to do when you find her?"

He didn't say "if" Zhou found her.

Zhou glanced out the window at the city below the penthouse apartment. Neo Monos was beautiful, practically a utopia for corpos. But he'd never seen the world from the perspective of someone who was already at the bottom, who had nothing left to lose. He wondered what Nova had been doing in Atlantis.

What was she searching for?

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm not going to let her go back to whatever… shithole she came from."

Lewis almost smiled. He extended his hand to the younger man.

"That's what I like to hear."

Zhou was looking for her in every corner of the city. His eyes kept darting around, sometimes causing him to lose his train of thought.

"Mate, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" Lando finally snapped. "You've been in your own world since Atlantis! I thought you said Osc cleared you — I thought Osc said he cleared you!"

Zhou blinked rapidly. "He-he did." He looked around.

Ah, that's right. I'm visiting Charles's office with Lando as "representitives" of AloTech.

Charles was staring worriedly from where he sat at his desk. He glanced between Lando and Zhou. "Do you want to reschedule?" he asked softly.

"I…" Zhou faltered. He looked at Lando, who shrugged. "Lando can catch me up to speed. I think I'm going to head back to Marine Plaza and get some rest." He stood, offering a stiff, yet apologetic smile to his two friends.

He barely lifted a hand when Charles wished him well, and only nodded when Lando reminded him about dinner with Max and a few others. He thoughtlessly thanked Charles's secretary when she handed him his belongings, his mind racing a thousand kilometers per second as he staggered into the elevator.

His thoughts absorbed him as he emerged into the center of Neo Monos, his eyes wide as he took in the sights. If he had been as lucky in business as Max, or maybe had decided to pursue politics like Charles, he would've been able to settle down in this city. It was only the third time he'd been to Neo Monos, and in that moment, he was really seeing it for the first time.

There were people bustling around, happily chattering to themselves and to each other. It was like they were unbothered by the plight of the world around them. He wondered if any of them knew about the debate over art preservation happening in in Milan, only a four hour drive north, or about the industrial worker uprising in Montpellier, the same amount of travel time to the west. He wondered if they knew what was happening to the sex workers in his hometown of Shanghai, or even about the ongoing corporate scandal in Northern California.

These people were all living in a utopia, one that would be so easily shattered if they bothered walking outside of their bubble. But, then again, maybe that was why Neo Monos existed. To allow people to get away from it all.

And then, there was a familiar voice on the air, shaking him from his thoughts and violently yanking him back to reality.

"Thank you very much. Have a good one." His eyes immediately locked onto the source. He saw her — Nova — walking away from a food stall, probably a pop up by one of the local places, a pastry clutched in her delicate hands.

His feet carried him forwards before he could even think. He kept his eyes trained on her back as she made her way back into the crowds. Even with her cybernetics almost completely covered, he could never forget that voice.

His heart almost stopped when she made to turn the side of a corner building, and he pushed himself to move just a bit faster. He caught her arm as she began to round the corner. She spun, eyes wide, almost dropping her pastry. He reached out and caught it before it could hit the ground, still not letting go of her arm.

"Nova," he breathed.

Her eyes went even wider, and she took a step back. She tried to yank her arm from his grip. He only tightened his hold.

"Let go," she warned, her voice low. "I'm not afraid to do it again."

"Wait." He held up her pastry. She looked at him warily, and he sighed, letting his hand slide down her arm until he was cupping her hand in his. He turned her hand so the back of her hand rested in his, and he put the pastry right in her palm. "I'm not here to hurt you. I-I'm sorry I scared you. I just… wanted to talk."

She watched him for a moment, searching his eyes for any sense of dishonesty. When she couldn't find any, she sighed, relaxing. "Just talk?" she asked, still staring at him like he'd change his tune.

"Just talk."

Nova bit her lip and looked around. She seemed to sag in relief. "C'mon. Let's go somewhere else." He nodded, feeling his fingertips tingle as he allowed her to take him by the hand and lead him through the city center to the waterfront.

She stood at the edge of the harbor, looking out at the ships as they came and went. Zhou only watched her, taking a seat on the bench just behind her.

"I really am sorry about what happened a few days ago." She paused, biting her lip. She dropped his hand, and his fingers twitched, already missing her touch. "I mean. What I did."

Zhou shook his head. "I can't really say I understand. But I'm not hurt. There was no permanent damage. I'm okay. It's okay." He stopped himself from word vomitting any more than he already was, instead watching for her reaction.

She fidgeted under his gaze. "It must've hurt, though."

He shrugged. "If it did, I don't remember it." He reached out, wanting to put his hand on her arm reassuringly, but he paused. She was so small, curled into herself. His fingers curled, and he pulled his hand back, instead gripping his knee.

Taking a large bite of her pastry, she chewed slowly, making a face when she swallowed. "This place is so expensive, and somehow, the food tastes like shit." She sighed, sitting next to him. In silence, she took another bite, this one so much smaller.

For a second, Zhou watched her. "Why are you here?" The question slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

Her fingers tightened around the pastry, crushing it in her grip. "Because… because I have to be." She pursed her lips. The crushed pastry fell, hitting the ground, as she hung her head in defeat. Zhou could see the NuSkin covering she wore on the back of her head to hide her neural implant, and he frowned. His heart ached.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

She laughed humorlessly. "For what?"

"I… I did some digging. Asked for help finding you." She looked surprised, but that surprise quickly morphed into something akin to horror. "I'm sorry, I—"

"You know about me, then?" she asked. His stomach turned at the hardness in her voice. "About…" She gestured to her body — her implants.

"Yeah." He took a deep breath. Suddenly, the ships entering the harbor seemed much more interesting. "Yeah."

There was a long, tense moment of silence between the two. Zhou could feel his stomach aching, acid bubbling in his throat. He wanted to vomit out another apology or some sort of comfort, but he couldn't find the words. He cursed himself internally.

She stood sharply, purposefully stepping on the remnants of the overpriced pastry. She dug her heel into the pavement as she turned, leaning down to bring their faces close. He almost jumped out of his skin, eyes wide at their proximity.

"Well, you found me, so it's my turn. Let me show you something." She reached down, grabbing his hand. "C'mon." He couldn't say a word as she pulled him off the bench. His feet mindlessly followed her, his eyes trained on her back as she pulled him through the city. He didn't even pay attention to where he was going as she turned corner after corner, dodging people and cars, until they reached a hidden stairway that led to a doorway.

She pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them. He gaped at the little one room apartment. It was maybe the size of his closet, with only a tiny window letting in light. The room was practically covered in monitors, their light illuminating the mattress in the middle of the floor.

"Is this…?"

"Mine? For now, yeah." She knelt down on the mattress, grabbing a cardboard box and rummaging through it. "Sit down, I want to show you this." He obeyed, still transfixed by her living space. The mattress was hard under him. He wondered if she'd ever been comfortable a day in her life. "Stay still. This'll be weird, but I promise it's safe."

He sat as still as he could, so much so that he felt like he would freeze in place. She gently turned his wrist, pulled out his personal link, and jacked it into the port on her wrist. He shivered; it was such a strange experience, linking to someone else. She never took her eyes off him as she plugged her own personal into his wrist, a deep, shuddering breath leaving her body.

Careful to not disturb the wires that linked them, she leaned forward and lifted a dark cloth to his face. He leaned back. "What—"

"Trust me. It helps with immersion." He nodded slowly, ordering his body to relax. She was gentle as she tied the cloth around his eyes, darkening his vision completely. "Okay. Close your eyes."

He did.

There was a buzzing in the back of his mind, a soft itch in his wrist, and then, his thoughts were flooded.

It was so dark.

Zhou had never experienced darkness like it before. He looked around, panic creeping through him.

"Hey."

Nova.

"Relax. It's safe." It was like she appeared from out of nowhere, emerging from the darkness. "I'm showing you why I'm here." She took a deep breath. He couldn't see much, but he could feel her fingers twining with his. "Just follow me."

He obeyed without question. They walked through the darkness, her hand tightly wrapped around his, and he stared at her. He knew it was a dream, something she was sharing with him through their link. He wondered if that was why she wasn't hiding her implants.

He could see her neural link, could see her metal spine, her carbon fiber back, and all of the wires wrapped around her. His chest hurt with a deep pain that he couldn't quite place.

"It doesn't hurt." He blinked. "These implants, I mean." She turned to shoot him a half smile, one filled with an emotion he couldn't identify. Her smile widened at his confusion. "We're linked, Zhou. I can hear your thoughts."

Oh. Does that mean you can see my memories?

"No, but only because I'm not looking." She squeezed his hand. "I'm letting you see what I want you to see, and I'm only trying to hear your thoughts so we can talk."

I see.

"You don't understand at all, huh."

Nope.

She laughed. It was a pretty laugh, clear, like a bell. "C'mon." Like she had only a few minutes before, she pulled him with her. "We're almost free."

His ears perked up at the word. She said it so reverently, so wistfully. He held his breath as the darkness parted, a light at the end of the tunnel growing brighter and brighter as they picked up the pace. They went faster and faster until they were running, breaking away from the dark.

Zhou blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the darkness was gone.

Instead, they were standing on a beach. He was taken aback by how much he felt. The sand against his skin felt so real. He'd never smelled the ocean before, not like this, but he knew it was just as real. He stared out at the sea, letting the sound of the waves crashing against the shore echo. It was so loud, but it was so soothing, too. The setting sun bathed his skin with its warmth. He couldn't remember feeling anything like it, even if it was the same sun as he felt every day.

"This is where I lived after I got out of that place." He didn't look at Nova, but he squeezed her hand encouragingly. "This is freedom. I can be whoever I want to be here."

"Then why aren't you still there?" he asked, glancing over at her.

She smiled wryly. "Because I don't belong to myself." She took a step closer to him. "I have a friend who helped me get out. But he can't protect me forever. They tried to take me back, and he negotiated for me. We can buy my freedom if I do enough for those people."

His eyes widened. The pieces were falling into place. "That's… that's barbaric," he choked out.

"That's business." She shook her head. "It's okay. One last job, and I can go back to this place. It won't be a dream in just a few days." She smiled, this one filled with genuine hope, and Zhou's heart skipped a beat.

"One last job, huh?" he mused. "It'd better be an easy one."

She was silent for a moment. He hated that her smile fell right off her face, regret and sadness taking its place. "The job… it's to get rid of Max Verstappen," she admitted. He suddenly felt sick. "They want him taken down, and they think the best way to do it is to make him guilty of insider trading and manipulation. To make his deals illegitimate."

It was a smart plan, as much as he hated to admit it. Max was practically untouchable in the grand scheme of things, positioned as one of the most loved business owners in Neo Monos. With allies like Charles and Lando, both wielding power in their own ways, Max was protected from most outside attacks. But if internal data implicating him in a criminal scandal was to emerge, there wouldn't be anything anyone could do to protect him.

"I…" He was at a loss for words as he took a step back, the shock rocketing through his whole body. He didn't even notice as he dropped her hand.

She followed him, stepping forward. "That's why I was at Atlantis. I wasn't there to take anything." She took both of his hands in hers. Their eyes met, and he could see the remorse and desperation shining in her eyes. "I don't want this. You can help Max, tell him whatever you want. Keep this from surfacing. Or, at least, keep his enemies from finding proof."

"Why?"

"That night, you looked at me like I was a person."

"Because you are."

She shook her head. "Not to most people. They look at me, and they see a chrome freak. A cyber addict. Or, worst of all, a tool they can use." She squeezed his hands again, and took another step closer to him. He didn't move, his fingers still limp in her hold. "You're the first person since I got out to not look at me like that at all."

"How could I?" he replied, the words finally coming easily to him. His fingers slowly closed around hers, gripping her hands tightly. "You're… incredible. Most people wouldn't last a second with that much tech. You've got to be seriously strong to not just live, but keep your mind whole."

She almost laughed. "That wasn't your first thought when you saw me, though."

He froze. "No." His admission was slow, but not hesitant at all. "It's because I think you're pretty."

"Even when I'm made of wires?"

"Doesn't make you less of a person." He summoned all his bravery and took another step closer, dropping her hands in favor of wrapping his arms around her. "I wanted to know."

"Know?"

He could feel his breath hitting her lips. "I wanted to know if what I felt was real." He paused, feeling his heart beating out of his skin. "It is." He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

She pulled back, gently pressing her palms against his chest. "Wait, Zhou." He paused, worry creasing his forehead. "Sorry, no, not a bad thing, I promise. I just… want it to be real."

He immediately understood. "Jack us out," he murmured.

The world began to flicker. The sunset over the ocean disappeared. The ocean, too. Then the beach. And finally, her.

He closed his eyes.

His senses slowly flickered back to life. He opened his eyes, but he still only saw darkness. He remembered that he still had the blindfold on, and he reached up to take it off.

A pair of hands stopped him, the touch achingly familiar.

"Wait. Just one more minute." Her voice was wavering. He paused, letting her pull his hands down from his face. "Was that… real?"

"Is what real?"

"You fell in love with me that night? And still felt that way, even after I shorted your tech? And even now, knowing that my job was to hurt your friend?"

He could hear her trembling, could feel her shaking. He reached out blindly, running his hands up her arms until he reached her shoulders. They were cold to the touch, the NuSkin unable to mask the carbon fiber and metal that made up most of her body.

"It's real."

The next thing he felt was her lips pressed against his. They were warm, fully hers, without any augments or changes. So were her tears. He held on tighter, reveling in the way her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. Even though she her body was still wracked as she silently cried, he held her, letting her use him as her rock.

When they parted, she pulled the blindfold off, and as his eyes were adjusting to the light, he grinned widely. "Any chance that beach of yours has room for two?" he asked.

"Maybe," she teased, running her fingers over the cyberware on his neck. "You'll have to stick around to find out."

He took a deep breath in, a pleasant shiver running up and down his spine. He hummed, leaning to press his forehead against her neck. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He was worried that his words would be muffled, but, judging by the way her breath hitched, there was nothing to be worried about.

"By the way, my name isn't actually Nova," she admitted. She leaned in and whispered her real name into his ear. The sound of it sent a shiver down his spine. She pulled back with a small smile. "Now you know something no one else does."

Message: Lewis Hamilton Found Nova. You were right about where she's from. Those bastards are still blackmailing her. Making her buy her freedom. You said you've got no love for corpos, right? Any chance you'd be willing to make it so they can't hurt her anymore?

Message: Guanyu Zhou Abso-fucking-lutely. Just let me know what you need. Oh, and congrats on getting the girl.

[onepointsixkm]

not me walking in right as the season starts with all the stuff i've been writing since mid 2024 season LMAO HELP

[onepointsixkm]

just call me yours ⛐ 𝐙𝐆𝟐𝟒

THIS IS: FORMULA ONE, A MILESTONE EVENT 📀 “you know, if this were a drama, this would be the part where the love interest gives the hero some kind of incentive before his big moment.”

♫ starring: zhou guanyu x childhood crush!reader. ♫ word count: 3.2k. ♫ includes: romance, friendship, fluff. mentions of food. ferrari reserve driver!zhou, childhood friends, one-act and open-ended. anon requested yesterday by jay park. ♫ commentary box: jumped with joy when i saw a zhou request and of course i had to do something hometown-hero adjacent in time for shanghai. ‹𝟹 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Zhou isn’t hiding.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself as he stands in the dimly lit snack aisle of a convenience store just outside the circuit, hands tucked into the pockets of his Ferrari team jacket. The store is quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the paddock, where team personnel scramble to adjust strategies and media personnel wait like vultures for a comment.

He should be in the garage. Should be going over last-minute preparations, listening to his engineers, doing something productive. But instead, he’s here, staring blankly at a shelf stocked with shrimp chips and hawthorn candies, the same ones he used to buy as a kid.

He’s never subbed in for a race before. Not like this. Not at home.

It should be a dream come true. And yet, all he can feel is the crushing weight of expectation pressing down on him. 

China’s first F1 driver, back in Shanghai, stepping in for Charles Leclerc. The headlines write themselves. He knows what people are saying— that it’s a once-in-a-lifetime chance, that he needs to prove himself, that this could be the opportunity that changes everything.

He believes that. Really, he does. Right now, though, he just needs a second to breathe.

The jingle of the convenience store door barely registers in his mind, drowned out by his own thoughts. It’s only when someone steps into the aisle with him that he glances up, and—

Oh.

You.

It takes a second for the recognition to settle in, for the years to melt away and for him to see you as you were back then. Before he left, before England, before everything. You, standing there with a basket in hand, looking just as startled to see him.

“Zhou?” Your voice is hesitant, like you can’t quite believe it’s him.

A stunned beat passes. 

Then, suddenly, he’s a kid again, racing down familiar streets on a bicycle too big for him, laughing breathlessly as you try to keep up. He remembers summer afternoons spent swapping snacks, the endless debates over whose mom made better dumplings, the way he had promised�� so earnestly, so naively— he’d come back soon.

He never did.

He swallows, a tentative smile tugging at his lips. “Hey. It’s been a while,” he greets in English, because that’s what he instinctively clings to nowadays. 

You huff out something between a laugh and a scoff. “That’s one way to put it,” you say, though not unkindly. You ignore his English, jumping right into the familiar, sharp lilt of Shanghainese. 

Just like that, the tension in Zhou’s chest loosens a little. Because if there was ever a moment to be reminded of who he was before all the pressure, the expectations, it’s now. Standing in a convenience store with an old friend, surrounded by childhood comforts. Speaking a language that he knows like the back of his hand. 

Maybe, just maybe, he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

Your eyes flicker toward the screen above the register, where the news ticker rolls on a muted sports channel. It takes a second to register, but then you must see it. Zhou Guanyu to drive for Ferrari this weekend; Leclerc ruled out with food poisoning.

You glance back at him, arms folded as he pretends to be very interested in a bag of shrimp chips. “So,” you start, watching for the moment his shoulders tense, “Ferrari, huh?”

An easy, practiced smile slips onto his face like a mask he’s worn a thousand times before. “Yeah,” he says, giving a light chuckle as he finally slips into the mother tongue you share. “Crazy, right? Big opportunity.”

He’s always been good at looking composed, but you still know him too well. You catch the way his fingers tighten around the bag, the way his breath isn’t quite as steady as he wants it to be.

“Guanyu,” you say, and his name still feels natural in your mouth despite the years. He blinks at you, smile faltering just a fraction, and that’s all the confirmation you need. “You’re nervous.”

“I’m excited,” he corrects immediately.

“You’re lying,” you counter just as quickly.

Zhou shakes his head, looking down at the snack aisle like it holds some sort of escape route. “I forgot you were always annoying like this.”

“You forgot a lot of things,” you tease, plucking the shrimp chips from his grip. “Like how you’ve never been able to lie to me.”

That earns a quiet laugh from him. “Maybe,” he admits. Then, after a moment. Softer, quieter, “It’s just… a lot.”

You nod, understanding without him needing to explain. The weight of it all— especially here, in front of a home crowd. He doesn’t have to say it. You can see it in the way he’s hiding out in a convenience store, looking for something familiar to ground him.

“Well,” you say, turning toward the counter, “at least you don’t have to face it on an empty stomach.”

You ignore his questioning look as you hand the cashier a bill, motioning toward the shrimp chips and grabbing a couple more snacks while you’re at it. Zhou’s eyes widen as he realizes what you’re doing.

“Wait— no, I should be treating you,” he stammers, reaching for his wallet. “I’m the driver here, remember?”

You scoff. “Please. It’s the least I can do for a hometown hero.”

He huffs a surprised laugh, but doesn’t argue any further. His parents would probably admonish him for having such terrible bill game, and against a family friend, no less. He lets you win, though, because he can already barely keep his head on straight. When you hand him the bag, he takes it with a quiet, sincere “Thanks.”

One look at his face gives you the impression that he still doesn’t want to head back out. He’s recognized at every corner, revered for being the one who made it. It’s not something he wants to face. Not yet. Not at this moment. 

You exchange a couple of words with the cashier, who— despite undoubtedly recognizing Zhou— has been benevolently normal this entire time. The driver think it might be some skewed sense of pity, the one aunties and uncles shower him with when they coo about how young he is. How fast his cars are, and how his mother probably worries about him all the damn time. 

You beckon at Zhou. He hesitates for just a moment before following you toward the back of the store, casting a glance toward the circuit entrance like it might drag him back by force. But he doesn’t resist when you push open a door near the stock shelves, leading him into a dimly lit backroom filled with extra inventory and an old, humming fridge.

“I used to hide back here all the time,” you say, settling onto an upturned crate. “The store owner’s my uncle. He never minds as long as I don’t mess with his stock.”

Zhou watches as you dig through the plastic bag of snacks you had insisted on paying for. He knows he should be heading back soon— Fred will probably be calling in the next fifteen minutes— but for now, he allows himself this reprieve.

“Didn’t peg you as a troublemaker,” he murmurs, accepting a bottle of water when you pass it to him.

“You’d be surprised.” You flash a grin before tearing open a bag of dried plums. “So? Are you going to pretend for much longer, or are you going to admit you’re terrified out of your mind?”

Zhou fingers pausing where they’re picking at the label of his water bottle. “I—”

You tilt your head, giving him a knowing look. “Come on, Zhou. You still can’t lie to me.”

He sighs, shoulders sagging slightly as the tension in his frame unravels. “I should be excited,” he admits. “This is what I’ve worked for, right? A shot in a Ferrari, in front of my home crowd. But I just— I didn’t expect it to happen like this.”

“You wanted it to be on your own terms,” you offer.

Zhou nods, rubbing his temple. “And it’s Charles’ seat. I’m just keeping it warm.”

“But you’re still driving it,” you counter, nudging his knee with yours. “That has to count for something.”

He looks at you, then, searching for doubt in your expression, but he only finds certainty. The same certainty you always had when you were kids, when you’d tell him he’d be a champion one day. Back then, he had believed you so easily.

“Guess I just need to keep the car out of the wall,” Zhou grumbles, mostly to himself.

“You’re capable of a lot more than that,” you say, popping a dried plum into your mouth. Then, after a beat, you smirk. “Though, I should be honest— I’m mostly being nice because of the embarrassing crush you had on me back then.”

There it is. 

Zhou chokes on his water. “What?”

You laugh, watching his ears go red. “Oh, come on. You thought I didn’t know?”

“I—” Zhou gapes at you before groaning and pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “That was so long ago.”

And it has been so long ago. Some 17 years, in fact, since he was helplessly, hopelessly enamored with everything you did. It’d been the classic ‘first love’ trope, the one that had both your parents consulting fortune tellers and shamans for a read on how well this might pan out. 

Zhou never bothered to ask what they found when they went looking, but he’d always secretly hoped that it was something good. An invisible cord of red, tying the two of you two together. 

“It was still pretty cute.” You grin, clearly enjoying his embarrassment. “I mean, you followed me everywhere. You’d blush so hard whenever I held your hand—”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbles, but there’s no real frustration in his voice. Just a quiet sort of fondness.

“You should’ve just told me,” you tease, popping another dried plum into your mouth. “Maybe I would’ve liked you back.”

Zhou chuckles as he leans back against a stack of crates. “Too late for that now, isn’t it?”

You hum, glancing at him. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Oh. That’s— oh. 

He swallows around the lump forming in his throat, suddenly hyper-aware of how warm it is in the backroom. Or maybe it’s just his pulse hammering in his ears. He hadn’t expected you to tease him about this, and he definitely hadn’t expected the look in your eyes when you did. 

Amused, yes. Something else, too. Something much mote honest.

He licks his lips, stalling. “You’re only saying all this now ‘cause I’m in F1, aren’t you?” he teases, though it doesn’t come out quite as lighthearted as he hopes. 

He’s trying not to sound desperate, but he is. Just a little. Because if you tell him yes, that the past doesn’t really matter and it’s all about the here and now— well. He’s not sure he’ll like that answer.

You scoff, rolling your eyes before breaking off a piece of the candy bar you’d been working on. “Don’t be an idiot,” you snap.

You hold the chocolate up to his lips, and before he can think twice about it, he lets you feed him.

That, too, is something that reminds him of his childhood. The easy consideration the two of you would trade. Always picking each other first on the playground. Your favorite Kai-Lan band-aids in the pocket of his backpack; his class schedule, scribbled on the back of all your notebooks. 

You watch him for a moment before adding on to your answer. “You think I just woke up one day and decided, ‘Oh, that Zhou Guanyu is pretty cute now that he’s a Ferrari driver’?” Your lips curve in a way that’s almost rueful. “Come on. Give me some credit.”

Zhou watches you, trying not to let his face betray just how much he’s hanging onto every word.

“I thought you were cute when you were just the boy next door,” you admit, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. “Before all of this.” 

You gesture vaguely, as if to encompass his career, the world of Formula 1, the pressure he now carries on his back. “You were already Zhou Guanyu before you were the Zhou Guanyu.”

A mix of affection and relief settles warm in Zhou’s chest. It’s stupid how much he needed to hear that. How much he needed someone, you, to remind him that he’s still just him, that the world can blur around him all it wants, but the parts that matter— the parts that make him— don’t have to change.

“You could’ve told me that back then,” he says, watching you with something like wonder.

You shrug before offering him another bite of chocolate. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He takes it from your fingers, holding your gaze. He chews slowly, considering his words before finally speaking.

“You never reached out,” he says, trying his best to keep his voice light. “All these years, and not a single message?”

You blink at him, a little caught off guard. Then you raise your shoulders raise in a shrug. “Didn’t think I’d matter much to you anymore,” you say in that clinical, cutting tone that reminds him of his elementary teachers. 

Zhou frowns. “Why would you think that?”

“I mean, look at you. F1 driver, racing in front of millions, rubbing elbows with celebrities. I wasn’t sure if I—” You pause, toying with the wrapper of your snack. “I didn’t know if I belonged in that world. Your world.”

Zhou’s throat feels tight, because it’s ridiculous. The idea that you, of all people, could think that.

He shifts slightly, tilting his head at you. “That’s dumb.” There’s no real bite to his tone. “You didn’t even try.”

You shoot him a half-hearted glare. “What, and risk finding out that you’ve completely forgotten about me? My ego isn’t strong enough for that.”

“I wouldn’t have forgotten you.”

“Please. I’m sure you had plenty of other crushes after me.”

At that, Zhou falls quiet. Not because you’re right, but because… well.

He sorts through his memories, combing through years of traveling, of new places and new faces, of fleeting affections that never quite lingered long enough to mean anything. And yet, somehow, some of his fondest memories— the ones that have stayed, steady and stubborn— involve you. 

The curb outside your house where you sat with fruit-flavored popsicles under the rancid, summer heat. Plates of peking duck and bowls of egg drop soup shared for every birthday, every end-of-school celebration. The one and only time he was brave— the chaste kiss he pressed to your cheek the day that he was set to leave, and how the warmth of your skin had lingered on his lips throughout the 16-hour flight. 

He’d been young then. A kid with a crush. 

He’s older now, which he supposes makes him an adult with a crush. Infinitely worse, he privately decides. 

Zhou clears his throat and forces a smirk on to his lips. “Yeah, of course,” he lies, casual and smooth. “I’ve had loads of crushes since you.”

You don’t call him out on it, but he sees it in the way your eyes linger on him, in the way your grin widens just a little. You know. Of course you do. But you let it slide. Instead, you just laugh under your breath as you pick up another snack. “Figured as much,” you tease. 

The next couple of moments pass with the cursory small talk. You trade stories about your parents; you tell him about your job. When you mention having tickets for Sunday, he tries not to think too deeply about it.

Everyone will have their eyes on him this weekend. Now, though, you’ve cursed him to only look out for yours. 

Zhou stretches his arms over his head, eyeing the empty snack wrappers scattered between you. The small escape you carved out for him has come to an end, and you both know it. He needs to head back. The team is probably already wondering where he disappeared to.

Still, Zhou can’t resist one last jab. 

“You know,” he starts, voice as casual as he can manage, “if this were a drama, this would be the part where the love interest gives the hero some kind of incentive before his big moment.”

You raise a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Zhou leans in slightly, feigning deep thought. “Something like, ‘Win the race and I’ll go on a date with you,’ or ‘If you finish in the points, I’ll give you a kiss.’” He grins. “That kind of thing.”

You roll your eyes, but the upward tilt of your lips betrays you. “Is that what you want? Some cheesy incentive to get you through the weekend?”

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t say no to it.”

After a beat of consideration, you fix him with a look— one that’s exasperated undeniably sincere. “Alright, fine,” you concede. “If you finish the race unscathed, maybe I’ll give you a proper confession.”

Zhou blinks. “A confession?”

“You know. The whole ‘I like you’ speech, but a little more eloquent.”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “You’re telling me you’ve been holding out on me?”

“Maybe.” You break out into a grin that makes his ribs ache. “Or maybe I just want to make sure you make it to the end in one piece before I say anything too heartfelt.”

“If you finish in the points, though,” you continue, tapping a finger to your chin in mock contemplation, “maybe I’ll throw in a little something more.”

He straightens, eyes sparking with interest. “Something more?”

You don’t elaborate. You just smile at him, slow and knowing, before standing up and dusting off your hands.

Zhou follows suit, walking with you back toward the front of the store. His mind is already racing, trying to guess what exactly something more entails. He doesn’t get a chance to ask, though, because as you reach the door, you pause— turning back to look at him one last time.

“Oh,” you say, like it’s an afterthought. “Just so you know, I don’t usually kiss on the first date.”

This wasn’t a date, wasn’t it? Zhou’s confused by the sudden statement, and it’s evident in the way he drags out a befuddled “Okay…?”

You grin, your voice dropping just slightly. “But I suppose childhood crushes have some exceptions.”

Zhou barely has time to process what you’ve just said before you step outside, leaving him standing there— completely gobsmacked, mouth slightly open, brain short-circuiting. By the time he recovers, you’re already halfway down the street, a bounce in your step.

It’s a threat as much as it is a promise.

It’s a reminder that what the two of you have is not the red string of fate that he once so fervently hoped for. 

The two of you are a taut rubber band, stretched across continents and decades— something that was always meant to snap back into place. 

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for when he ducked into this convenience store, but now, as he steps back into the light of the Shanghai afternoon, he knows one thing for certain.

Zhou is done hiding. ⛐

ScuderiaFerrari Putting the "hero" in "hometown hero" 🇨🇳 ZhouGuanyu24 finishes P7!

[onepointsixkm]

Part IV: Brilliant Red

Summary: The Monaco Grand Prix went up in smoke as the end of the world began. You and a group of your friends managed to escape, but not without loss, as the dead began to walk.

featuring: SV5, CL16, OP81, LS2, & GR63. (mentions of LN4, DR3, + others)

warnings: zombie apocalypse! features character death, gore, and other genre conventions/staples. please do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the potential warnings! this chapter specifically contains major character death.

notes: I am sorry.

word count: 4,825

You wondered how it had ended up like this.

You’d made it out of the Rifle Club, feeling like you had more of a fighting chance, although the gun still felt like a weight on your belt. Logan had managed to find holsters for some of the pistols. You, Oscar, and Charles held them, while Logan just tucked his into his belt. Although you felt more secure with your newfound firearms, you knew you were no safer.

For a few minutes, it was quiet. The silence between the five of you was thick, unsaid words floating around your group. You could hear Logan fidgeting with the straps of his bag, could hear Oscar gently trying to soothe his nerves. You didn't want to look back at the two of them, not wanting to force Logan to act strong.

But as you walked down the street, making sure to keep close to each other, a hand suddenly stopped you. Charles had reached out, arm blocking you from moving. You glanced up at him, and he just nodded towards a large group of zombies gathering near the end of the road, the one that was closer to the heart of the city. "That way's the quickest back," he murmured, "but it's too dangerous."

You bit your lip, eyes darting from his nervous stare to the converging zombies his eyes were fixed on. "There's probably another way, right?" you asked softly.

"We can go through the back streets," Seb interjected. "It'll take longer, but it'll be safer. All we can do is avoid them."

"And if there's more?" Charles challenged.

Seb was quiet for a moment, his eyes hard as he and Charles stared each other down challengingly. You glanced between them, wondering when the tension between the two had grown to be so palpable. You chanced a look back at Oscar and Logan, who looked just as confused as you felt. When you met Oscar's eyes, he shook his head and shrugged. Unable to stop yourself, you turned and reached out to grab Charles's arm. He barely looked at you, but forced himself to relax.

Seeing this, Seb sighed heavily, running a hand over his haggard-looking face. "We'll figure it out."

As Seb led you through side streets that would bring you back to Lando’s apartment, trying to avoid the main stretch of road as much as possible, you fell back to walk with Charles.

"What was that?" you asked, keeping your voice level. He grunted in feigned confusion, and you wanted to roll your eyes at his willful ignorance. "With Seb, Charles."

He nearly groaned, reaching up to ruffle his hair. "It's childish, I know."

"Charles, I don't get it. You and Seb have been close for a long time, longer than I've known either of you. Why did it seem like you wanted to fight him?"

Charles hesitated. He stared at Seb's back as the older man walked several meters ahead of you, peering down different streets as he crept along the sides of the streets. "It's nothing. Just that… he's making all these calls, and I don't know if they're the right calls. He's smart, I know he is, but this isn't like a race. It's not tyre management or overtaking on track, it's… it's life and death. If he makes a bad call, he puts all of us at risk." Charles looked sick as soon as he said the words.

You knew then that it wasn't about Seb. It wasn't even about Charles. It was all fear and worry for his loved ones. For as convinced as Charles had been that others were alive — that they had to be alive — he'd clearly been shaken by what he'd seen in the streets of the city he loved so much. You'd heard the way his voice had trembled when he'd asked you to swear that you'd never let him end up like the people in the rifle club had.

"Charles…" You bit your lip, your words failing you.

"He's doing his best. I wouldn't have made different choices," he admitted, eyes still trained on Seb. "I just feel this… this pit in my stomach. Like something has to give. Like the world is still hungry for our misery." He finally looked over at you, and your heart jolted at the sheer sorrow. "It feels like it hasn't taken enough yet."

You didn't know what to say to him. You wanted to reassure him, wanted to say anything to make him believe that his gut was just playing tricks on him. That pit in his stomach wasn't real, and you'd all make it to see the next morning. But you didn't know if you could promise that.

The sun was still high in the sky. It was a beautiful day, but as you let Charles's words simmer in your mind, it started to feel ominous.

"You should check on Logan," Charles finally said to you. You hated how he was always doing that, always putting the feelings of those around him before his own. "You've always been looking out for him. I think he needs that more than I do right now."

You nodded and allowed yourself to slow down, pacing yourself until you were walking with Logan and Oscar.

"Hey," you began. Logan managed a weak smile. His hand was tracing over the grip of his pistol as he turned it in his hands. "You both doing okay?" As soon as the words left you, you faltered; of course Logan wasn't doing okay.

"We're good," Oscar quickly scrambled to reply. "As good as we can be, y'know?" He nudged Logan, who didn't reply, just kept his eyes on the gun. Concern flashed over Oscar's face, but he pushed it back.

You both struggled to find something to say as you both kept glancing over at Logan, who was still lost in thought. You weren't sure how long it was before he pulled himself out of his thoughts with a sigh so deep that it practically echoed. His grip tightened around the gun, then he slid it into the belt of his jeans.

Logan smiled tightly. "Can you give us a minute?" Although Oscar hesitated, he nodded, jogging a bit to catch up with Charles. As he did, Charles glanced back at the two of you with a worried frown. You sent back a short nod, trying to reassure him. Logan waited until no one else was looking at you. "It feels like it's been a lifetime, but it's been less than two days," he murmured.

"It's been a long two days. A lot's happened."

"Yeah… yeah." He laughed humorlessly, his blue eyes the dullest you'd ever seen them. "I keep thinking about Daniel. And Carlos. And Fred. And why I got to live while they didn't." He hesitated. "I heard a little of what you and Charles were saying back there."

The promise.

"I don't think I could do it," he admitted, not waiting for you to speak. "Not again. Call me a coward if you want, but… I don't want to see anyone else die. And especially not for me."

You slowly reached for his hand and twined your fingers together, hoping that your touch could comfort him where words couldn't. He squeezed back, although he was hesitant.

"Promise me that you won't try to save me if it comes down to it."

"Logan…" You shook your head. There was no world in which you could promise that. If he was bit, if he was in front of you, you knew you'd rush to his side. "I can't promise that."

"You promised Charles that you'd kill him before he could turn." His grip on your hand grew firmer. "Promise me that if… if saving me means getting yourself killed, you won't do it. You'll let me handle it." You couldn't stop yourself from continuing to shake your head, trying desperately to deny what he was saying. "I mean it. I know I may not look like much, but I'll at least try to face death with dignity. Enough people died saving me." He let go of your hand, and suddenly, your skin felt much colder. "I won't let that happen again."

All you could do was watch wordlessly as he shifted his backpack and moved to catch up with Oscar and Charles. Seb had stopped by a convenience store at the end of the block, and was peering into the front window. Oscar threw you a look, and you bit your lip. His eyes narrowed, and he silently waited, letting Charles and Logan catch up to Seb, until you stood next to him.

"What'd he say?" Oscar practically demanded.

Words caught in your throat. You looked up at Oscar, seeing the frantic worry for his friend in every aspect of his body language.

"Logan asked me to… to promise him that we wouldn't try to save him if anything happened."

Oscar was deathly silent. "What?" He'd gone pale.

"Daniel really took a toll on him, Osc," you murmured. "He doesn't want anyone else risking their life for him."

He shook his head, eyes narrowing as his face paled even further. "No, no. He doesn't get to decide that. We're practically family, and I-I can't… I wouldn't just leave him. We don't leave people."

"I know," you tried, but Oscar wasn't hearing any of it. His face had clouded with fury, and you could only watch as he stormed up to Logan, stopping him before he could follow Seb and Charles into the store.

They spoke quietly enough that you couldn't hear them as you passed. You kept your head down, not wanting to get in the middle of the two of them, and followed the others into the store.

"What's that about?" Charles asked. Your only reply was a stiff smile. He made a noise of understanding.

"Prioritize any food that doesn't go bad or water," Seb ordered quietly, already raiding the shelves. "We'll need water more than anything if the system is down." You looked over at Charles, who only hesitated for a moment before following Seb's lead.

It only took five minutes before Oscar and Logan joined you. They wordlessly began shoving food and water into their bags. Less than fifteen minutes later, you left the store, bags significantly heavier.

As Logan passed you on the way out, you caught his eye, gesturing to Oscar. His face fell. "We're good," he said, but the stiffness in his voice told you that things weren't as good as he wanted you to believe.

"I'll talk to him later," you assured Oscar, who followed Logan out. He sighed and nodded, quickening his pace to catch up to Logan. Logan didn't even look at Oscar, just gently patted his shoulder.

Even if you felt like things would be okay, you would soon find yourself taking it all back. All it took was a single moment of carelessness to bring down what felt like the entire city of undead on you.

Maybe you should've listened to Charles's gut.

One of those things had grabbed Oscar. It’d been leaning against an abandoned car, playing dead, as Seb stepped over it, followed by you and Charles. But when Oscar had tried to move past it, it sprung to life with a quickness you hadn’t expected of a corpse, and latched onto his leg with a snarl.

Oscar had yelped, struggling backwards as he swung his golf club wildly. You’d all turned to see him fighting, but Logan had gotten there quicker. He’d kicked the zombie in the face, then brought his club down, his eyes wild.

It wasn’t until after Logan had stopped swinging that you heard it. A car alarm. One of the boys had accidentally shattered the window of the car the zombie had been leaning against, and now, it was blaring loudly, violently, echoing throughout the small, quiet city.

Seb knew there was no use in staying quiet anymore as he yelled for you all to run. Your group sprinted down the street as zombies seemed to pour from everywhere. Every alleyway, every open building, every seemingly abandoned car. Suddenly, there was nowhere to go.

You’d frantically followed Seb, who led you down twisting and turning streets, desperately running through the few openings you’d managed to find. But every opening led you further and further away from your destination.

“We can’t stay out here! We either have to find somewhere to wait this out, or we fight!” Charles shouted, desperate to be heard over the growls of the undead that were closing in on your group. His hands were shaking, you noticed, but kept that observation to yourself.

Seb pursed his lips, sweat dripping down his face as he frantically turned, searching for a way out. “Just keep going!” he yelled back. “We’ll figure it out! We have to!”

Despite his assurances, it’d only taken a few minutes before you were boxed in.

As you slammed your golf club into zombie after zombie, fighting to keep them away from you and the people you cared about, you fought back how sick you felt. These were people once, too. You knew that you weren’t given much of a choice, knew that you had to fight them so both you and your friends could survive. But it didn’t make it easier.

You glanced over at Charles, whose face had gone pale. His hands were still shaking, despite the strength he put into each of his strikes. Sebastian, although steadier on his feet, was wearing a frown on his face as he kept swinging. The rifle on his back bounced as he swung around, jamming his crowbar into the skulls of the undead over and over.

There was no end to them.

The gun on your hip felt heavier with each passing second. You could practically hear the bullets you put in your bag clattering around. But you resisted the urge to pull the gun from its holster, knowing that the bullets you had wouldn’t even make a dent.

Oh. We’re going to die.

It was with a sudden calm that the thought washed over you. Your club almost slipped from your hands as fear settled into your bones. You were almost surprised that you weren’t feeling more than this. It was almost with a resignation that you recognized that you were about to die. You wouldn’t be able to find the rest of your friends. They’d die thinking you left them. And everyone else would die with you. Seb and Charles and Oscar and Logan. And George, he’d keep waiting for you all to come back, but you’d be dead. You wondered how long it would be until he realized that you weren’t coming back.

You wondered when the other shoe would drop.

A call of your name broke you from your trance. Charles was glaring at you, blood splattered across his face. “Get it together,” he growled. “Just because I swore I wouldn’t let you turn doesn’t mean you’re allowed to die on me. So, get out of your head. I need you here.”

You nodded quickly, trying to blink the tears out of your eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I know,” you choked out. “Sorry, I…”

“I get it, but now’s not the time!” Charles swung at another of the zombies, a grunt escaping him as his bat met its skull. “Focus, or we’re dead!”

You pushed past your fear, past everything that told you you’re going to die here, and swung your club at the nearest zombie. You glanced up. Everyone else was fighting. You had to fight, too.

So, you did.

You weren’t sure how long you were fighting.

Your arms were burning, screaming in protest with each swing. You could feel the bodies piling up around your feet, but there was still no end to the zombies in sight. That nagging feeling that you were going to die kept prickling at the back of your mind, but you pushed it back, knowing that it would only be true if you let it.

It was then that the other shoe dropped.

“Fuck, fuck!” The anguished scream from Oscar pierced through the growls of the undead, and your gaze shot towards the two boys. “Logan!”

Slowly, you turned, your eyes taking in the situation and your heart filling with more and more panic by the second.

"Promise me that if… if saving me means getting yourself killed, you won't do it. You'll let me handle it."

Oscar held tightly onto Logan’s hand as Logan laid on the ground, using his free arm to try to desperately pull himself away from the herd behind him. One undead had practically leapt onto him, and its teeth had sunk into his calf. You could see the anguish on his face as he screamed in pain and fear. More and more undead, lured by the smell of Logan’s blood and the sound of his screams. More teeth, more bites, more blood, more screams. Oscar was futilely pulling at Logan’s arm, trying to pull him from the herd. Tears streamed down his face as he fought the bodies that were falling onto his best friend, their gnashing teeth bearing down on his flesh.

You felt sick.

"Enough people died saving me."

“Shit,” you heard Charles mutter next to you.

He and Seb rushed towards Oscar and Logan, but Logan stopped screaming long enough for his eyes to fall on the two men running towards him. A steely look took over his face. Even through his pained tears, he locked eyes with you. “Get out of here,” you knew he said, even if his lips never moved.

"I won't let that happen again."

And then, he pushed Oscar away, right into Seb’s arms. Oscar yelled in protest, tried to fight his way back to Logan, but Logan had already been dragged away, across the pavement, until you couldn’t see him anymore. His screams resumed as the undead tore into him. You could hear the ripping of flesh and the choking as Logan began drowning in his own blood, the undead swarming and beginning to feast on his body.

You prayed it would pass quickly, for his sake.

The crack of a gunshot suddenly rang through the air. You jumped at the sound, a whimper involuntarily leaving your throat. You knew what it meant. Charles had fallen back, swinging at the zombies that had begun to surround you. He looked just as sick as you felt.

“Oscar, there’s nothing we can do!” Seb was arguing as Oscar fought in his hold, his eyes wide with panic. “We have to go! He bought us time, don’t let it be for nothing!”

“Let go of me!” You could hear Oscar shriek, his voice more shrill, more desperate, than you’d ever heard it before. You looked over to Seb, who could only grasp at the back of Oscar’s shirt as the youngest of your group wrenched himself from Seb’s grasp and darted forwards, back to where Logan had vanished beneath the zombies that had swarmed him.

He swung his club wildly, bodies falling around him and beginning to stack. Blood and gore splattered across his skin and clothes, but you could still make out the wild look in his eyes as he screamed and swung, desperately pushing to where he’d last seen Logan.

“Oscar!” and “Oscar, no!” were among the cries that you could hear from Seb and Charles. But Oscar didn’t turn back. He didn’t even react. He vanished into the herd, the gap slowly closing until you couldn’t see him anymore.

You choked back tears as you ran to Seb, who was frozen, arms still outstretched from where Oscar had pulled away. You grabbed Seb and tugged, murmuring, “Seb, it’s too late. We… we can’t stay here.” He remained still, eyes fixed on the feeding frenzy where Logan and Oscar both vanished. You looked desperately back at Charles, who rushed forwards and helped you pull Seb away.

Seb’s eyes were fixed on the feeding frenzy that had begun where you once stood, where you had been fighting for your lives only moments before.

Your group was so much smaller now, you realized, as you and Charles pulled Sebastian into a nearby building. Charles shut the door as you lowered Seb to the floor, the older man staring into the distance, practically catatonic from the shock.

“Seb?” you tried, your wavering voice trying desperately to reach him.

“We can’t… we can’t just leave Oscar,” Seb managed, looking up at you.

You bit your lip. You knew where his heart was. But you also knew that Oscar was most likely gone. That he’d vanished into the herd where his friend had been killed, and it was so unlikely that he had survived that many zombies.

“We can’t go after him,” Charles snapped, running a hand through his hair as he pulled away from the door. “He walked right into a fucking herd! If we find him, we’re not going to find him. If God has any mercy, we’ll find what’s left of him, and not a shambling corpse.”

You sniffled, the shock of your loss finally subsiding and allowing you to feel the real, tangible grief. Two of your friends were dead.

You’d fought, and they still died.

“We… have to get back to George,” you murmured. “There’s nothing… we can’t…” The words wouldn’t leave you.

Charles took pity on you. “We have to regroup. Logan… you heard the gunshot. We all did.”

Seb flinched at the blunt assessment of the situation. “What about Oscar?” he asked, rubbing a hand over his face.

There was nothing but silence for a moment. “We all know his chances,” Charles murmured, although he sounded like he was reluctant to say it. Seb hung his head, anguish causing his entire body to tense.

“Let’s regroup. And we’ll figure it out.”

The trek back to the apartment was mercifully uneventful. You couldn’t help but wonder why it wasn’t like that the entire time. Your hands were shaking as you followed behind Charles, Seb, for once, walking behind you. You worriedly glanced behind you ever so often.

Seb was dead silent as you made your way up to the apartment, the elevator suddenly feeling like an almost safe haven. The adrenaline had long since left your body; the only thing that kept you going was the pain of loss that had settled into your body.

Charles slowly pushed the door open. As you practically dropped your bag in the front hall and collapsed to your knees, the sound of limping feet announced George’s arrival. Charles fell next to you, reaching a shaking hand out to rest on your shoulder. Seb, meanwhile, managed to make it to the couch before collapsing onto it.

“What the fuck.” You flinched at his disbelieving tone. “What happened out there?”

You were sure that you all looked like Hell. Charles and Seb were both covered in blood, and you were almost afraid to look down at yourself to see how stained your clothes were. Your weapons were dripping with blood, too, and you winced at how a small puddle was forming beneath where you’d dropped your golf club.

“Logan’s dead,” Charles said softly. “We were careless. There were so many of them, and we couldn’t…”

“I get it.” George shifted, leaning against the wall. “But what about Oscar?”

Charles fell silent. You glanced over at him, and saw his brow furrowed, his teeth buried in his lip. “We lost him,” you quietly admitted, hating how weak your own voice sounded.

“What do you mean you lost him?!” George demanded, fury lacing his voice.

“Fuck, George!” Charles swore, practically leaping to his feet. “We fucking lost him, okay?! He tried to save Logan, and the herd swarmed him! There was nothing we could do!”

Seb swore loudly in German, his first word in what felt like hours, hurling his water bottle across the room. You winced as it made contact with one of Lando’s helmets, sending it tumbling to the floor. “I can’t,” he managed, his voice strangled as he looked at you and Charles in desperation. “I can’t leave him. I can’t just sit here, not knowing.”

Oscar’s chances weren’t good, and you knew that. But you knew that there was still a chance, however small it was, that he’d managed to escape. And if he was alive, you owed it to him to find him.

“Then go after him.” George had limped over to the couch and sat. “You said you wanted to look for our friends. Oscar’s our friend. And he’s lost, just like the others. So, go after him.”

You took a deep breath, sitting up. “George is right.” You met Seb’s hopeful gaze. “We said that we were going to find everyone that was left. And… there’s a chance Oscar made it. Right?” You glanced over at Charles, who hesitated to agree with you. “There’s a chance,” you said firmly, no longer leaving room for him to disagree.

“Yeah, I mean,” Charles stopped himself and heaved a sigh. “Yeah. There’s a chance.”

“Then we look for him. Same way we said we’d look for every other person who’s still missing.” You pushed yourself to your feet, hating how you were still shaking. “Besides… even if he’s been bit… we owe it to him to not leave him.” You looked directly at Charles as you said that, and you swore that you saw his defensive walls crack.

You knew you were right when he sighed. “Yeah. We owe him that much,” he agreed, his voice soft. He was still hesitant — of course he was — but he knew that you were right.

“I’ll go with Seb. We’ll find Oscar. And hopefully, we’ll find others, too.” You picked up your bag. You had hoped to rest a little, your arms still sore and your legs barely managing to keep your body standing, but this was more important.

Oscar was more important.

“I’ll stay with George,” Charles declared. You frowned. “Between the two of us, we can map out the city. Maybe figure out some likely places that everyone else could be.”

Seb hefted himself to his feet, walking towards you. “Figure out a way to get out of here, too. After today, we know Monaco isn’t safe. We… we can’t stay too much longer.”

You hated how, once again, you knew he was right. Monaco was a populated place, and even more so than usual with the Grand Prix taking place at the time. With time, it would only get worse, and you knew it. With time, the number of survivors would dwindle. There would be more and more zombies, and less chances for you to escape. If you waited too long, you’d be stuck, and you knew it.

“We’ll figure it out,” George promised. “Just… bring them back.”

The apartment was almost dead silent as you and Sebastian repacked your bags as quickly as you could. He handed you the half-full water bottle, and you carefully tucked it away as he returned to counting the bullets you had. Charles easily handed over a few of his, only saving two for himself.

“Just in case,” he said, tension underlying his voice.

You swallowed. You didn’t want to think about what that meant.

You stripped yourself of your clothing, wincing as the blood-stained cloth stuck to your skin. You made a mental note to get more clothing at some point as you pulled on a new pair of pants and a new hoodie. When you emerged from the guest room, you saw that Sebastian had changed, too, his own bloodied clothing nowhere to be seen.

Charles and George were seated on the couch, Charles carefully drawing a street map as they murmured to themselves. They didn’t look up at you as you made your way over to Seb, adjusting the holster on your belt with a shuddering sigh. He glanced at you and nodded, picking up his rifle and shouldering it.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice determined, but almost hesitant. As you moved to follow him, grabbing your bag from where it rested against the side of the couch, you looked back at Charles and George.

Both of them had stopped, looking at you. George smiled encouragingly, while Charles only stared at you with an unreadable expression. “Bring them back,” George said again, his words carrying across the apartment and embedding themselves in your heart. You nodded stiffly, then turned to leave, the door swinging shut with an ominous click.

And so, you pressed forward on tired legs, following Sebastian out of the building and back onto the streets of Monte Carlo. It was quiet, like it had been when you got back to the apartment. It was almost eerie. You’d never seen Monaco so quiet before. You wonder if it would ever be this quiet again.

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[onepointsixkm]

Part IV: Brilliant Red coming today (3/18)

I'm sorry in advance

Serpents [an F1 zombie apocalypse AU]

Summary: The Monaco Grand Prix went up in smoke as the end of the world began. You and a group of your friends managed to escape, but not without loss, as the dead began to walk.

Notes: This series is heavily influenced by all sorts of zombie media. Characters will die, so if you’re sensitive to character death, gore, and other genre conventions, this series may likely not be for you. There will be a lot of characters featured, but the main relationship will be platonic!SV5 x reader, as well as others that will be disclosed in each chapter.

—

Chapters

I: Slipping Through My Fingers

II: Burnout

III: We Are All We Have

IV: Brilliant Red

V: God Only Knows

+ more to come . . .

[onepointsixkm]

changed my icon because i miss zhou guanyu so much 🥺🥺🥺

[onepointsixkm]

welcome back formula 1

and what a return it was lol

[onepointsixkm]

angel down

Summary: You've seen his eyes somewhere before. A dream. A memory. As he takes your hand in his, your heart soars. It breaks. You think of forever. You know that your love is on a timer.

featuring: CL16 x fem!reader

notes: based on the short story story of your life by ted chiang and its 2016 film adaptation, arrival by denis villeneuve (director) and eric heisserer (screenwriter). i'm not sure if i would classify it as angst, since there's happiness in between, but i think the majority of it is angst.

word count: 6,577

“If you could see your whole life from start to finish, would you change things?”

There’s a child. A little boy with bright blue eyes and a smile that you would go to war to protect. He reaches up to you and you reach down, maternal love wrapping around your heart as you hold the boy close to your chest, laughing along with him.

There’s a man. He has the same bright blue eyes as the child. He looks at you with a soft smile, murmuring words of love as he rests his face in your neck. You can feel him kissing your skin, and you manage a soft giggle as you turn to look at him. He’s staring at you with so many emotions swirling in his eyes, and you feel an overwhelming love in your heart. It’s a different love from the love you feel for the child, but just as powerful, all the same.

And then the world shifts.

The man is pacing with tears in his eyes. The room is dark. The child is nowhere to be found.

He turns to face you, sniffling. “You thought I wouldn’t find out? Were you intending on hiding this from me our entire lives?” he demands, clearly choking back sobs. Words fail you as you open and close your mouth, unable to say anything. He stares at you incredulously. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

You’re lost for words. You don’t know what you were hiding, let alone how to make things better. All you know is that you want to bridge the gap between you and this man, but you can’t. You can’t fix whatever has broken.

All you can do is sit in silence, only able to watch as he falls to his knees, his wretched sobs echoing through the dark room.

And then, you wake up.

You were a college student, dragged to the Formula 1 race down in Texas with your friends. “C’mon, don’t be a killjoy,” they’d begged when you protested. “It’ll be good for you, get out of the dorm for once!”

You knew they were right. You’d been holed up in your tiny dorm room for months, ever since your boyfriend had broken up with you. He’d claimed you were too stiff, too unemotional. Too hard for him to read, and just not what he wanted out of his college girlfriend. You had quietly accepted it, despite your heart breaking as you hugged him goodbye and watched him leave you in that campus café.

“Fine,” you’d relented, unable to resist their pleading faces. “But it’s your problem if I’m not a fun person to be around.”

And so, as you sat in the grandstands, watching as the cars that looked like rockets sped past you, you sipped on your overpriced drink. You eyed your friends as they cheered, each of them wearing a different jersey.

You, however, are not wearing any team merch, and you feel somewhat out of place as you follow your friends. They’re all laughing and buzzing, talking about the qualifying results and the drivers. You’re barely listening as you follow closely behind them, amused by their chatter but never joining in. They stop to take pictures in front of the posters of their favorite drivers, and you oblige as they ask to take a picture in front of the big sign advertising the race. They ask you to be in one of the pictures with them. You shake your head as you had your best friend’s phone back to her.

Out of the corner of your eye, your attention is drawn to a merch stand. You see merchandise for her favorite driver, and you make a mental note to go back there before you all leave. You get your chance when you excuse yourself to go get another drink.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” you promise. “Just fifteen minutes.”

“We have drinks back at the hotel!” your best friend whines.

You shrug with a small smile. “They must put something in the soda here. I’ll be back.” You wave as you retreat, not letting her get another word in.

You beeline towards the merch line, frantically looking for which driver she supported. You knew it was one of the red ones, the name starting with a C. But that was both of the Ferrari drivers, and you quickly shot a text to one of your other friends asking which of the two drivers your best friend liked.

As you waited, your hand brushed over the shirts that were on display. Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember the name. She talked about him nonstop on the way down to the circuit, but you just couldn’t grasp the name in your memory. Your fingers stopped on one of the shirts that had the number 16 printed in large text, the name Leclerc just above it, like a football jersey would.

“Do you like him?” a voice behind you asked. The voice stirred something in your brain, but you pushed the sensation down.

You didn’t glance over your shoulder as you shake your head. “I don’t really know many of the drivers,” you admitted softly. “I just want to get my friend a present for her birthday, but I don’t remember which driver she likes most.”

The man behind you laughed. It was a nice sound, a familiar sound. “You can’t go wrong with buying this, then.” He reached past you and picked up a boxy shirt with the prancing horse logo on the front pocket. There were no numbers, no names, but it was a clean design, and you nodded, thinking that it was something that your friend would like.

You gently took it from his hands and turned to thank him, but you stopped short, seeing his eyes. Those blue eyes.

“Thank you,” you managed, pushing past the shock.

He grinned. You knew that smile. “You’re welcome. I’m Charles, by the way.” He held out his hand to you, and you slowly took it and shook it.

“I… yeah, it’s nice to meet you, too.” You cleared your throat. “You, uh, look familiar. Have we met before?”

He froze, but shook his head. “No, but you may have seen me earlier. I drive one of those cars you saw on track earlier.” You make a little noise of acknowledgement as you get to the front of the line.

As you turned to pay, you heard people start to swarm him behind you, asking for photos and autographs. You shook your head as you asked politely to have the shirt packed so it’s hidden, and the kind vendor agreed. You adjusted the shirt in its bag, laying your jacket on top of it, and turned back to see Charles signing one last hat.

“Sorry about that,” he said to you with a sheepish grin. “Listen, I don’t normally do this, but I think you’re very pretty, and I’d like to ask you to get dinner with me tonight.”

You were taken aback, left stuttering and stammering. There you were, not even invested in this whole Formula 1 thing, and a driver — a very rich driver whose name you hadn’t known until five minutes prior — was asking you to dinner because he thought you were cute? You didn’t know what to say.

“Say yes.”

Had you said that out loud?

You met his eyes again, and you found yourself falling into those blue eyes, just like you had when you first saw them. You found yourself nodding, the word “okay” leaving your lips before your brain had time to catch up.

Charles beamed. It was brighter than the sun. “Great!” he exclaimed. “Where are you staying? I’ll pick you up at 8.”

You gave him the name of your hotel, and he held out his phone for you to put your number in. You did so with an almost foggy mind, only half aware of your movements. His shining smile never left his face as he took the phone back and shot you a message before running off, repeating his promise to come get you for dinner.

You practically stumbled back to the car, too stunned to speak.

“Girl, what happened?” your friends practically demanded, taking in your shell-shocked expression. They were willing to go to war for you, and you could only shake your head.

“I just met one of your drivers,” you admitted. They squealed, demanding to know who. “A guy named Charles. And… he asked me to go to dinner with him.”

As their celebratory voices drifted away, you remembered the way his eyes looked. Not like when you ran into him at that vendor’s booth, but the way he looked at you with sorrow and anguish, the way tears welled up in his eyes. The way he stared at you with betrayal before his knees hit the floor.

You wondered if it was better to not go.

But your friends dressed you, did your hair, put on makeup, and showered you in compliments as they pushed you out the door of your hotel room, with threats that if you bailed, they would make you walk home. You knew they were empty threats, but you obliged anyways, trudging down to the lobby and waiting for Charles.

He picked you up at exactly 8 on the dot, barely a few seconds off as he pulled up in a fancy sports car. He held every door for you, from car doors to restaurant doors. He pulled your chair out and asked what you wanted to order, assuring you not to worry about the price.

The two of you spoke. You learned a lot about Formula 1 that night, and you found yourself smiling as Charles boasted about his team and his successes. He admitted his worries and told you that he was hopeful about the race the following day. You wished him luck. He turned the conversation back to you, and you found yourself telling him all about your own goals, but you felt as if you paled in comparison to him.

It didn’t matter how you felt, though, when he looked at you with such intrigue.

The night ended too quickly, you realized, as he pulled up in front of your hotel. You smiled softly and thanked him for a wonderful night, but didn’t move to get out of the car. And he didn’t move to make you.

“Could we get dinner again tomorrow?” he finally asked, breaking the silence. “I had fun, and I’d like to do this again.”

You gaped at him. “Charles, I… this was amazing, but you don’t know me. We-we just met today, and we don’t run in the same circles at all, and… Charles, are you sure?” you squeaked out.

He reached out and grabbed your hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m sure,” he breathed out, his face slowly creeping closer to yours.  “It feels like… something is pulling me towards you. Like I’ve known you forever. That’s why I approached you in the first place, this feeling that I can’t really place, but I… I want to see where it goes. Will you let me?”

He was so close that you could feel his breath on your lips. His eyes were all you could see, glimmering with sincerity. You inhaled sharply, swallowing despite your dry throat.

“Yes.”

He pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back, the thrill of newness and the rush of memory mixing as you and Charles shared your first kiss, one that was all too familiar to your heart and body.

Charles — you know it’s Charles now — laughs with that brilliant smile as he twirls you around. He’s dressed in a suit, his tie draped around his shoulders. You’re in all white, your skirt fanning around you. You’re surrounded by people, faces both familiar and not, and as you take them in, you’re surprised to realize that you know exactly who these people are, despite having never met most of them.

You look at Charles, who looks happier than you think you’ve ever seen anyone. You feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you close. “Come on, love, it’s our wedding. We should be allowed to leave whenever we want,” he whispers into your hair.

“Charles,” you playfully berate him. “We can’t because it’s our wedding.”

He groans, but continues to dance with you, holding you close as you twirl around the dance floor. You take pity on him and lean close.

“But when we leave, you have me all to yourself for the next few days.”

He leans back a little bit, wonder taking over his face. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you smile cheekily at him. He can’t help himself as he kisses you deeply, deaf to the cheers and wolf whistles of your friends and family.

“Welcome to the rest of your life, my love,” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel his smile. “Here’s to our forever.”

Forever sounds good to you.

But it also sounds like an empty promise.

You push back the worry, push back the sinking feeling that you have in your heart, and nod, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Forever,” you echo, wishing with all your heart that the word is binding.

Needless to say, your dinner date the following day went well. You were unable to resist Charles’s smile for very long, his earnest happiness and genuine kindness he showed winning you over.

Your second dinner date soon led to a third and fourth when he flew you out to Las Vegas a month later, happy to sneak you into his hotel and spend time with you as far from prying eyes as he could manage. It was on the fourth day that he asked you to be his girlfriend, a question which you answered yes to almost immediately.

The following night, he insisted on introducing you to the rest of the grid, his friends, as he swept you into a Las Vegas club to celebrate race day.

You met all of the men he raced with, all of whom were overjoyed to meet you. He introduced you as his girlfriend, no hesitation as he pushed you forwards. You met their girlfriends, who took a shine to you, and you spent the night dancing and drinking with your new group of friends.

As the night began to wind down, Charles quickly picked up that your feet were starting to ache, and excused himself to drive you back to the hotel.

“Thank you, Charles.”

“For what?”

“For everything. It’s been… really nice. You’ve been wonderful.” You smiled softly at him, moving to get out of the car.

He quickly stopped you, grabbing your hand and pulling the car door closed. “Listen. I know my life is hectic. I understand if this isn’t what you thought it would be like, or if it’s so far from what you wanted. But this past month with you has made me feel complete. I just… need you to know that I’m in it for the long haul.” His intense gaze never left yours, and you felt your heart try to escape its cage.

You wondered what it meant for your relationship, to be in it for the long haul. You wanted to believe that your relationship could withstand the test of time.

With each kiss, your love became clearer. With each kiss, you could see a little more than you did before. The “long haul” was supposed to be indefinite, a vow to last until the end of time, but your heart said differently.

There was an end in sight, your heart reminded you.

Even knowing this, you nodded. You didn’t have the heart to walk away from something so pure, so sweet. Something that was so clearly yours, and just yours. Walking away from it, you thought, would hurt more than the end you had seen in your memory.

So, you just nodded with a smile and allowed him to take you by the hand and bring you with him on his adventures.

He took you with him around the world whenever you had the time to do so, holding your hand and showing you off like a proud boyfriend. You were loved by the people online, thrilled that Charles was dating a “normal” girl. You held your head high whenever you were in the paddock, greeting fans and taking the gifts they offered so you could give them to Charles.

In between all of this, you finished up your college courses as quietly as you could, keeping your head down to avoid any of the sudden fame that had come with your new relationship.

Navigating all of the newness was difficult in itself, but the true challenge came with the dreams. The memories, you came to realize that they were. The more time you spent with Charles, the clearer it became to you.

The man in your dreams was Charles. Older, but still him. And that child, he was yours. Your future. Yours and Charles’s future. It wasn’t like watching a movie, not even for a second. You were seeing your future the same way that you were capable of recalling the past.

And it terrified you.

With each passing day, you remembered how he looked at you — how he will look at you in the future. The mix of sorrow and rage in his eyes, his face, his whole body… you weren’t sure when it would become too much for you to bear. You wondered if the future you saw would even come to pass, or if you would break before any of it.

Before the wedding, before the child… before the end.

Each time it became too much, you contemplated leaving. You really thought about just breaking it off with Charles. It would spare you both a whole lot of heartache, you reasoned.

But it felt like whenever you felt like you were reaching your breaking point, Charles noticed. He would reach over with a sweet hand, grasping yours, and would smile at you.

“Thank you for being with me,” he would say.

Your resolve would fracture into a million tiny pieces, slipping through your fingers as you reached out to him. You knew that it was selfish, you knew that you were destined to be hurt in the future, but you couldn’t pull away. Not when he looked at you like that.

But you never told him. You couldn’t, you thought. He’d think you were insane, or worse, he wouldn’t believe you. He’d laugh it off, and you’d continue, both of you knowing but unable to do anything to stop it.

Instead, one late night, as you laid awake in bed, curled into his side. “Charles?” He hummed in response. “Can I ask you something?” you muttered, your voice cracking.

He was immediately awake, hearing the fear in your voice. He rolled over to face you, blue eyes locking on yours, and nodded. “Of course, love. You can ask me anything, anytime,” he replied softly, soothingly.

“You said, a long time ago, that you’re in it for the long haul.” He nodded again. “If us being together meant that something bad would happen… would you still be?”

For a moment, he was silent. He shifted, furrowing his brow, and lifted his hand to brush your hair from your face. “You’re talking in hypotheticals, love,” he murmured. “Bad things are going to happen. We’ll fight — we have fought. Life isn’t perfect, but we’re happy. I’m not one to just give up just because a bad thing could happen. I’d never take risks otherwise.” He smiled with a small laugh, and the storm that had encased your heart began to subside. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your forehead, then your nose, and finally, your lips.

“What if it’s big, though?” you still pushed.

“Don’t make mountains out of molehills. Let’s take things one day at a time, and when we get there, we’ll get there.” He pulled you close, and you buried your face into his chest. He gently kissed the top of your head, and you could feel his breath on your hair. “Big or small, we’ll work it out. I promise.”

You wanted to believe him.

So, you allowed yourself to believe him, settling further into his warmth and allowing sleep to wash over you.

You stand in front of a grave, a bundle of sunflowers in your hand.

The years on the headstone tell you that the person laying in it was only thirteen when they died. You feel sick. Tears come, angry and unbidden, as you bend down to place the flowers in front of the headstone.

“Oh…”

You turn. Charles is there, staring at you with surprise. It quickly melts away into resentment, the kind that burns your heart and scars you with the intensity of it.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he manages, his voice dangerously level.

You take a step towards him. “Charles—”

“I didn’t think you needed time to mourn,” he cuts in as he takes a step back from you. “I would’ve thought you did all your mourning in the time you knew.” You shake your head. “Look, I…” He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

“Charles, I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Sorry doesn’t fix it. It doesn’t fix anything.” He sniffles, sorrow mixing with his rage. “It’s too late. Just… please let me mourn in peace.”

He pushes past you, and you watch as he kneels in front of the grave, lovingly placing a hand on its face, and lays his own bouquet of flowers in front of the stone. You watch as he murmurs something that you can’t hear.

You open your mouth, but like every time before, words fail you.

Instead, you turn away, tears slipping down your cheeks, and you leave, not looking back at his hunched over figure and pretending you don’t notice his shaking shoulders.

It was summer in Monaco.

You and Charles had been together for nearly two years now, and you’d moved in with him the previous year. In those two years you’d been together, you spent days in bed and nights out on the town, and you’d made memories all around the world, sharing kisses and declarations of love all the while. Life was good to you, and it was good enough for you to forget sometimes. You allowed yourself more space to forget the future, and focus on the crazy, beautiful adventure that was the present.

This summer was shaping up to be the most relaxed since your romance began. You weren’t planning any crazy trips or moving across the world. You’d simply asked Charles if you could spend some time in the city you now called home, and he’d agreed without hesitation.

You spent the days with his friends, both on the grid and not, laughing and growing closer to them. You finally thought of them as your friends, not just Charles’s friends, and you let yourself smile with them.

A small part of you, in the back of your mind, wondered if they, too, would grow to hate you.

But those thoughts washed away when you went to his mother’s home for dinner. When she wrapped you up in her arms with unconditional love, you let yourself feel the warmth that this family offered. When his brothers and their significant others greeted you like they’d known you for a lifetime, you felt your spirits lift.

You would savor this while you still had it, you decided.

You quickly tried to make yourself useful, asking to help Pascale with cooking, and she patiently taught you her recipes. She watched over you with a gentle smile that reminded you so much of her son, and she beamed just like him when you glanced over at her for approval.

You played games with Arthur and Lorenzo, handily beating them at cards, much to their significant others’ amusement. You laughed and winked at Charles as you threw the next round, and shook your head at Arthur when he celebrated his first win of the night.

Charles looked at you with a new expression that night.

When you went home, he showered you in kisses, locking you in his arms. He ran his hands over you, he pressed his lips to every bit of skin he could reach. He worshiped you, and you basked in his adoration.

By the time you both actually tucked under the covers, the moon was high in the starry sky. Your legs were tangled together beneath the sheets, and your bodies were pressed together. You could feel him breathing into the back of your head as he kept pressing lazy kisses to your neck, and you sighed in content.

He murmured something in French against your skin, and you hummed. “What was that, Charles? I’m not fluent yet.”

You could feel him sit up behind you, pushing your hair away from your neck. He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, and you jumped at the feeling of his breath in your ear. “I said, I’m going to marry you someday,” he replied quietly. Your eyes flew open, and you sat up to stare at him. He stared back at you, unflinching.

“Sorry?”

He sat up, too, and grabbed your hands. He ran his thumbs over your knuckles, and even now, even two years into your relationship, it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Does that bother you?” he wondered quietly. You quickly shook your head. “Good. Because I mean it. Someday — maybe not today, but someday — I want to make you my wife. I want to have a life and a family with you.” You sniffled, and he quickly rubbed the tears away before they could fall. “Hey… happy tears, I hope.”

You nodded weakly. “Happy tears,” you agreed, managing a teary smile.

He smiled right back, his eyes crinkling. “Good.” He kissed your cheeks, right beneath your eyes, and you sniffled again. “Don’t cry, love. I’ll love you as long as I live.” You sniffled again, but nodded, allowing his words to wash over you.

You wondered if he even knew that his words were lies.

The child is lying on a hospital bed. He has tubes running all over his body, and the heart monitor next to his bed is beeping faintly. Rhythmically.

Charles is draped over the boy, holding his hand like a lifeline. He’s praying in English, French, and Italian, desperately begging whatever force controls this universe for more time. Tear streaks stain his face, but no more tears fall. He doesn’t have any more to give.

He barely looks up at you as you walk into the hospital room. It smells like chemicals, and you want to throw up. You know what comes next. You can’t bear to look at the boy as you busy yourself changing the flowers in his room — sunflowers, like you know he loves — and putting the cards from your friends and family all around.

“The doctors say it looks good,” he chokes out. You blink and turn back to him. “One more surgery, they think. They’ll be able to take the tumor out.” He manages a watery smile at you, still clinging to the child’s hand. “Our son will be okay.”

Your heart falls.

Your son is lying on a hospital bed.

“Mommy?” his weak voice cuts through your sorrow. You’re at his bedside in an instant, holding his hand and running your fingers through his hair. He looks so small. You remember the first time you held him. He was small like this back then, too.

“What is it, sweetheart?” you ask, trying to force yourself to sound as soothing as possible.

Your son smiles. “Don’t cry, mommy. I’ll be better tomorrow. When I’m better, can we get ice cream?” he asks, so sweet and so innocent your heart breaks again.

You nod. “Of course, baby. We can get as much ice cream as you want.” You look at Charles, who nods fiercely. You know he’d give your son anything to make him happy. To make him healthy.

You have trouble sleeping that night. Leaving him was harder than you thought it’d be, and you’re awake as the reality plagues you, taunts you, and keeps you awake. You stare at the ceiling, tears silently streaming down your face.

“It’ll be okay, my love,” Charles soothes you.

No, it won’t, you want to reply.

Your worst fear comes true the next day, when the doctor walks out of the operating room with a solemn look on his face. You only catch the words cardiac arrest and reacted poorly to the anesthetic as you stand, frozen in place. Charles falls to his knees, whimpers wrenched from his throat, and clings to you.

I’m sorry for your loss, you hear the doctor say. You stumble backwards and collapse into the waiting room chairs.

It has to be a nightmare.

You know it’s real.

It doesn’t make it hurt less.

You woke up sobbing.

Tears were falling fast and hard, and you were almost wailing. Your throat was raw from the violent screams, sounds you didn’t even know you could make. Your heart hurt so much that it was hard to breathe, the anguish in your soul expressing itself in the most violent way.

Charles was beside you as soon as you shot up in bed. He held you tightly. You struggled in his arms. He held you tighter. You gave up, too weak and too sad to fight. You just collapsed into him, hiccups and choked crying the only sounds you could make. You couldn’t even tell him that you were alright.

Instead, you clung to his hand as you heaved. You felt nauseous, but there was nothing in your stomach to throw up. You just sobbed, your face ugly and raw, as you tried to hide.

“My love,” he tried weakly, “what’s the matter? Please talk to me.”

For a moment, you wanted nothing more than to tell him exactly what was happening. You wanted to tell him that you saw your future together, that you knew the tragedy that would befall your family. You wanted to warn him, wanted him to know. The burden was finally becoming too much.

But, you thought, things would be different if you told him. And you weren’t sure if it would be a good sort of different.

There was the possibility that you wouldn’t stay together long enough for your son to be born. You would be stuck with the memories, the knowledge that he was supposed to live, but without Charles, there was never any hope for your son. You didn’t know if it was crueler to rip your son’s life away before he was even conceived, or to live with the knowledge that his life would be cut brutally short.

The other option was that Charles would insist on staying with you anyways. That he would try to overcome the future and make a world where your son could be alive. That future would come to pass anyways, and it would destroy him. If the burden of knowledge was eating you, and would continue to eat you for years, you knew that Charles wouldn’t survive it.

You couldn’t tell him, you decided. You knew you couldn’t tell him. You shook your head fiercely and curled yourself closer.

So, you just cried until you fell back asleep, Charles rocking you back and forth in his arms.

The next morning, at breakfast, he prodded again. “Will you talk to me about it?” he asked, his eyes staring right through you. “I’m worried about you.”

You just smiled and grabbed his hand. You squeezed it tightly, and he squeezed back. “I’m okay, Charles,” you tried to reassure him. He looked like he didn’t believe you. “I’ll tell you one day. But I can’t right now.”

He looked more concerned, but nodded.

“I trust you,” he said softly.

You almost laughed. You wished he didn’t.

You’re sitting on a park bench. Charles is holding your hand. You’re watching the wind through the trees, listening to the families playing around you. The two of you aren’t saying anything, but there’s a peace between the two of you. There’s no hatred or anger, no sorrow or anguish. It’s quiet. It’s nice.

You choke up a little, but do your best to keep your composure as you squeeze Charles’s hand in yours. He looks over, his smile faltering when he sees your teary eyes. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, so sweetly that it makes your heart ache.

Sniffling, you shake your head. You can’t tell him, not now. It’s not time.

“Mommy!” You turn around on the park bench, seeing your son, only six at this time, running towards you, a bright smile on his face. You force your tears back as you stand, kneeling with open arms. He runs right into them, and you pick him up, your laughter mixing in the air. “Mommy, look what I found!”

He shows you what he’s found, holding up a sunflower almost as big as his face. You gasp dramatically as he hands it to you, and you spin him around to face Charles. Charles has stood, and is watching you both with a gentleness you wish you could bottle up and treasure forever.

“Charles, look!” You wave the sunflower. “Look at this lovely gift your son got me. Thoughtful, just like his daddy.” You nuzzle your nose into your son’s cheek, and he giggles. The sound lifts your heart.

Charles nods. “I’m jealous,” he adds, his smile playful. “Mommy will love you more than me soon.”

You giggle and mock whisper, “He doesn’t know I already do.” Your son laughs, eyes darting between you and Charles, who has loudly gasped in fake offense. You stuck out your tongue teasingly, and your son mimicked you.

Narrowing his eyes, Charles creeps towards you, arms outstretched. You back up, still sharing giggles with your son. Charles pauses for a moment, then darts towards you both, sweeping you both up in his arms. You let out a shriek as you feel him lift both of you off the ground and spin you around.

When he finally lets you down, you turn to face him. His hands rest on your hips as he kisses your forehead, then your son’s. You stare at him, wishing you could frame his soft, loving face and preserve it.

It’s a peaceful day. You wish it could last forever.

You sat on the beach, a drink in hand as you stared out at the summer sun as it rose over the beautiful city you’d come to call home. Charles sat next to you, holding his own drink, as he took in the way the sunrise’s colors hit the water.

“Charles,” you began, your voice cutting through the peaceful morning air. He looked at you, and you almost cried at the sincere love in his eyes. “If you knew what your life would bring, good and bad, from beginning to end… do you think you’d change anything?”

He thought for a moment, taking a sip of his drink. But, after a moment, he shook his head. “No. No, because no matter how much sorrow and tragedy I’ve experienced in this life, there is joy in it, too. Changing anything that happened, or has yet to happen, could mean I miss out on some of the greatest things to happen in my life. Like you.” He reached out to grab your hand, holding it like you were his lifeline.

His touch was warm. You reveled in it. You begged your traitorous heart to stop beating so fast, your mind and memory battling against your heart. With a sniffle, you held his hand with your own shaky one, blinking back the tears before they could fall.

“I love you,” you managed to choke out, the words tasting like acid but sounding so sweet.

“I love you, too.” He leaned over to press a kiss to your head. You leaned into his touch. “I’ll make this life a good one. For both of us.”

You already knew that the time you spent with Charles would be good. You would celebrate your third year together next month. You’d be engaged in just four months, around Christmastime, and you’d be married by this time next year. You’d have a son — your son — on the way two years after that.

Your son would spend thirteen wonderful years with his parents. You would share breakfasts and blanket forts. You would drive him to school, Charles would pick him up. You would both go to support Charles in the paddock, and you’d be loved by his fans. Neither you nor Charles would miss a single event that your son participated in. You would dote on him and give him everything he wanted. Charles would be a wonderful, supportive father, and your son would grow up knowing that he was loved.

But cancer, that horrid illness, would come in his twelfth year. He would faint in the middle of class and be rushed to the hospital. You’d rush there from work, Charles meeting you with panic in his eyes. There, the doctors would tell you that it would be an aggressive tumor, spreading quickly, and he would spend the next year in and out of the hospital for treatment. He’d get sicker and sicker, thinner and paler, but he’d still smile as you and Charles came to visit. He’d joke about all the things he wanted to do when he was better.

You’d smile and indulge him, but you’d know that time would never come.

Three weeks after his thirteenth birthday, he would die during the surgery that was supposed to save his life. It would be sudden, a freak accident from a reaction to the anesthetic the doctors used. There would be nothing you could do to stop it.

Charles would fall apart, his world careening to a screeching halt after your son died, but you would preserve. By that time, you would have had over fifteen years to come to terms with the shock death of your most precious person.

But it would still hurt all the same, the pain as raw as the day you’d learned the future.

Eventually, the hurt would be too much. You and Charles would drift further apart until you realized that the ending was upon you. You would tell him over dinner one night about the secret you’d kept for years, finally confessing the things that plagued you for the entirety of your relationship. That you’d known — you’d always known — that this ending would come.

He’d curse you. He’d hate you. He’d leave and never come back, and he would resent you for the rest of your lives.

And you knew that this ending would come to pass. You knew, as you sat with Charles, curled into him on that beach, that you would have a loving, blessed life for the next fifteen years. You knew that your life was on a timer.

But you knew you’d savor every moment until that ending came.

“Despite knowing the journey and where it leads, I embrace it and welcome every moment.”

author's note: this took forever to write, but i'm happy that it's finally done. i'm new to the f1 rpf scene, so i'm still working on getting unique voices down. i hope you like this story!

[onepointsixkm]

f1 2025 helmets

[onepointsixkm]

Part III: We Are All We Have

Summary: The Monaco Grand Prix went up in smoke as the end of the world began. You and a group of your friends managed to escape, but not without loss, as the dead began to walk.

featuring: SV5, CL16, OP81, LS2 & GR63. (mentions of LN4 + others)

warnings: zombie apocalypse! features character death, gore, and other genre conventions/staples. please do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the potential warnings! this chapter specifically contains references to suicide.

notes: the amount of research I did on firearm laws is too much for a fun little fic I wanted to do, and I'm still not 100% sure it's accurate... (I can't read French, and so much of the information on Monaco's gun laws is in French!!!)

word count: 5,115

You awoke the next morning to the sounds of bustling in the kitchen and the smell of bacon. For a moment, you almost called out to Lando before reminding yourself that Lando couldn’t cook. Then, the harsh reminder that Lando wasn’t here hit you like a thousand bricks. You shot up, the blanket falling off you, to see Seb in the kitchen. That made more sense, but the hurt from your cruel memory still remained.

You slowly pried yourself from your comfortable place curled up on Lando’s couch. As you rubbed the sleep from your bleary eyes, you saw Oscar sit up with a yawn. He still looked exhausted and numb from the day prior, but he barely showed it as he nudged Logan awake next to him. You watched as Logan stirred, pushing himself to sit up as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. He froze as the weight of being awake finally hit him, and he buried his face in his hands, like if he tried hard enough, he would wake from this nightmare.

“Morning,” you heard Seb call from the kitchen, his voice level. “Power went out about two hours ago, so I’m using what perishables I can for breakfast. Bacon and eggs, mostly. Come eat, there’s more than enough.” He paused. “Actually, could you bring a plate to George first?”

Mumbling some sort of agreement, you stepped over the still-snoozing Charles to grab the plate Seb picked up from the counter and held out to you. Balancing it carefully as you maneuvered around the boys, you made your way to Lando’s bedroom.

“Is that food?” you heard George ask. Of course, he was already awake, sitting up with his phone in his hand. You made your way over to him and handed him the plate, which he gratefully took.

“You’ve still got service?”

George snorted. “If you can call it that. Power’s out, so it’s just a matter of time before service is down, and it’s so shoddy it might as well be gone. Just… browsing the last news articles that were posted.” You gazed down at his screen.

Most of the articles were in French, but you knew enough to read the headline The EU issues a warning to stay indoors and couldn’t help but snort. That warning was issued far too late. George sighed.

“You should save your battery,” you said. He nodded, locking his screen and tossing his phone to the side. “We might need it in an emergency. I think yours and Oscar’s are the only ones that are still charged.”

He hummed as he shoveled breakfast into his mouth. “So, what’s the plan?” he asked. “Are we going to keep looking for others?”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure anymore. Not after yesterday, not after seeing the chaos and destruction the outbreak had left behind.

Hell, you were no longer confident that anyone would be left to find.

“Not sure. If anyone has a plan, it’s likely Seb, but… God, George. Is there even anybody left? You’re all we could find,” you admitted, your voice so low you weren’t sure he heard. But he clearly had as he reached for your hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t talk like that…”

“It’s reasonable to think the worst,” George replied just as quietly. “But we’ll find them. We will.”

You squeezed his hand with a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”

He downed the last of his breakfast and put the plate on the bed next to him. “Could you tell Seb that I think it’d be a good idea to get supplies today? The fire might not have died down just yet, and I noticed something back at the circuit. Those things, they’re… they’re drawn by heat, not just their senses, like sound, sight, smell. So, the fire might be to our advantage. If it burns hot enough, if it’s still hot, the… the zombies,” he choked out the word like it was poisonous, “might migrate towards the circuit.”

“So, heading away from the circuit might be safe?”

George hesitated, but nodded. “It’s just a theory for now, but I think it’s solid. And it’s the best chance we’ve got.”

You hefted yourself up from the bed, dusting yourself off. “Alright. I’ll let Seb know. But… George, even if that’s true, we can’t take you with us.” He frowned. “Your leg… it has to heal. If it doesn’t heal, we’ll never be able to get going from here,” you murmured.

He didn’t look too happy with your words, but he nodded like he already knew you would say that. He’d barely been able to walk the day before, and the frantic rush through the pits and the parking lot had probably worsened his injury. He instinctively reached to rub his ankle, but winced as soon as his fingers hit his skin. A bitter frown crossed his face as he looked up to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry, George. But I can’t lose you, too.”

He forced a smile as he finally gave you a single nod in agreement. “I understand. Just… promise you’ll be safe out there, okay?” You reached over to squeeze his shoulder before picking up his empty plate and leaving the room.

You made your way past Oscar and Logan, the former comforting his friend as tears fell from Logan’s eyes. Oscar looked up at you with a sad smile.

“Nightmares,” he said quietly, like it explained it all. You nodded, knowing that he’d probably also been up tossing and turning, but he was shoving it all down to comfort Logan. The other boy looked like he was miles away, lost in some corner of his memories.

You just hoped they were kinder to him than his dreams were.

You gently patted Oscar’s shoulder, trying to offer him some comfort. He replied with a tense, but grateful smile. You reached towards Logan, but stopped before your fingers reached his back, hesitating, before you pulled away when you thought better of it.

Instead, you offered him a smile. “Logan, sweetheart, there’s food in the kitchen. Come get some when you guys are ready, okay?” He didn’t even look up at you. You glanced at Oscar, who nodded in acknowledgement. Heaving a sigh, you stood and made your way into the kitchen, where Seb was hunched over the counter, frantically scribbling on an envelope.

“Is George alright?” he asked without looking at you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Are any of us?” you replied. Seb grunted, a wordless agreement. For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence, broken when you cleared your throat and gestured to the paper he was hunched over. “What’s that?”

Seb finally paused. He stood, dropping his pen, and handed you the envelope. “I took stock of what we have. And what we need. It…” he trailed off and lowered his voice. “It doesn’t look good. If I’m right, things are probably this bad all over the country, maybe the world. And it’s going to get worse before it gets better. We should prepare for anything.”

“And what does that entail?”

“We need supplies. Food that won’t go bad — canned food or dry food, stuff like that. New weapons.” Seb hesitated. “Guns if we can get a hold of them. And survival gear, like knives and flares. Flashlights, toilet paper… there’s a lot of things we need.”

You scoffed in disbelief, tossing the list onto the counter next to you. “Seb, we’re never going to find all that,” you said dryly.

“Not in Monaco, no,” he agreed. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms, discomfort clear in his stance. “But if we want to make it out of here and get somewhere that might give us better chances, we’ll have to get whatever we can. And… then we’ll just have to make a plan.”

You shook your head, brow furrowed as you remembered the feeling of a hand slipping from yours, the sound of a familiar voice frantically calling for you. “I’m not leaving Monaco yet,” you finally said, your voice small. Seb glanced at you, a knowing frown on his face.

“I understand.”

“I’m staying as long as I need to.” You couldn’t leave, not when your friends were still out there.

“I know. I will, too.” He reached out to grasp your arm, squeezing it comfortingly. “I promise. I’ll help you find them. But we can’t help them if we can’t help ourselves.” With his free hand, he picked up a plate of food and offered it to you. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”

You took the offered plate. “Do you have a plan?”

He sighed. “I’d normally say that we should rest today. Yesterday… was too much for anyone. But after Carlos… I think resting might kill Charles. There’s too many missing, and I can’t see anyone happy with waiting around.”

“You’re damn right about that.” Charles walked into the kitchen, reaching past you and grabbing a plate. He heaved himself onto the counter and began shoveling food into his mouth. “The past few days have been hell, yes. But I’m not going to sit and wait for a miracle when my friends are gone. I know they’re alive. I need to find them.”

“Pierre?” you asked, taking a small bite of your food.

“And Lando, and Max, and Ollie. And my brothers. They’re not the type to just lay down and die. They’re out there.” Charles’s eyes met yours, determination dancing in them. “All of them.”

“We’ll look for them as we look for supplies,” Seb said firmly. “We’ll need enough food for everyone.”

You almost smiled at both of their ardent beliefs that your friends were alive, relief filling your heart. They truly believed that you would find them, and you’d all survive whatever this outbreak was. You wanted to believe, too, that everyone was safe.

But your heart ached.

“We should stay away from the more populated areas,” you suggested. “If the circuit was that bad, anywhere near there will probably be filled with zombies. The casino, the shops… but I guess, where in this city won’t have a ton of people?”

Charles snorted, pausing his inhalation of his breakfast. “Anywhere near the water is going to be populated. Tourists or otherwise, that entire area is always busy.” You looked down at your own half-eaten plate, biting your lip. “What are we looking for, anyways?” You grabbed the list and held it out to Charles. He gingerly took it and read it, his eyes narrowing as he did. “Guns? Survival gear?” He pursed his lips. “The best you might get is some camping gear, but even that might be hard to find. And guns… those will be even more difficult.”

“What about the… uh… rifle club?” You all turned to look at Logan, who’d finally pulled himself from his trance and stood at the entryway to the kitchen. He bit his lip, flinching at the sudden attention. “When-when my family came to watch the race last year, some of them wanted to go shooting while they were here. There’s a rifle club, I think. They might have guns there, right?”

“He’s right,” Charles confirmed, eyes widening. “I doubt it’s a lot of them, but there’ll probably be a few guns there.”

“Then that’s where we go.” Seb nodded. “Where is it?”

Logan hesitated. “That’s the thing. I’m pretty sure it’s close to the western border.”

Your heart dropped. Monaco wasn’t a big city — it took about 10 minutes to drive through the city on a good day — but it was still pretty far from where you were. Anything could happen in the short time it took to get from Lando’s apartment to the other side of the city. The risks were too high for a “maybe.” You could see the way that Charles’s head hung, his thoughts headed the same direction as yours were.

“We don’t have a lot of options,” came Oscar’s voice. “Plus, what if someone else went that way? Pierre and Esteban… maybe they tried to leave to go home.” His voice was hopeful, his suggestion outlandish, but you wanted to believe it was possible.

You could see the wheels turning in Seb’s head. “We’ve got a lot of people unaccounted for. And I bet a lot of them want to try to get home, too. I’m guessing looking around the city won’t be such a bad idea.”

“Seb, we’re in Europe,” you protested. “It’s been days, they could be all the way to… to fucking Denmark if they really wanted to be.”

Charles shook his head, his gaze far away. “No, no. Not immediately, at least. They’d stay for a little. Try to get their bearings, maybe find people like we are. I can’t see any of them just… leaving people behind.”

“Not even Fernando,” Oscar agreed, a small, sardonic smirk on his face. You almost laughed. A snort escaped Seb, knowing exactly what the older Spaniard was like. “It’s a risk we’ll probably have to take at some point. So better take it while there’s still a chance that we can find the things we need…”

“Before other people get to them,” Seb finished Oscar’s sentence.

For a moment, silence fell upon all of you, crammed in that tiny kitchen. You sighed, putting your plate down. The clatter of porcelain on the stone counters jolted the boys out of their thoughts, and they looked at you.

“George told me something he noticed when he was stuck at the circuit,” you said softly. “That they’re… drawn to heat. The zombies, I mean. He thinks that there were so many yesterday because of the fires. And that if those fires kept burning, more and more were drawn there. Which might mean that there’s less in the actual city.”

Seb nodded slowly. “Any advantage is a good one,” Charles murmured.

“Okay. Finish eating, then we go.” Seb pushed himself off the counter and past you. “Grab your things when you’re ready. I’ll go make sure the garage is clear.”

“What about George?” Logan asked worriedly.

“He’s staying here.” You moved to follow Seb, not wanting to waste anymore time. “His leg is still too injured. He needs rest.”

You heard Charles scoff as he put his plate into the sink. “Bet he’s happy about that.” You rolled your eyes, remembering the bitter look that George wore when he reluctantly agreed to stay behind.

You slowly began to gather your things, counting all of the first aid supplies you’d grabbed and refilling your water bottles. As you were, the sink suddenly sputtered, then stopped. The water had stopped running. You sighed, hanging your head. Things were already collapsing. You’d only been able to fill two bottles, but they would have to do. You slid them into your bag and grabbed another sweatshirt from Lando’s closet.

As you pulled it on, you stared at your reflection. You could see the dark circles under your eyes. You wondered if everyone else noticed how haunted you looked. Heaving a sigh, you pulled your bag onto your back and crossed the hall to where George was laying.

You knocked on the door frame, and he looked up from where he sat, once again scrolling on his phone. “Hey,” you said softly.

He looked up sharply, immediately locking his phone again. “Hey. Sorry, this… I just can’t stop looking. This article went up only thirty minutes before… everything.” He let out a noise of disbelief. “Were they even planning on saying anything? Did the government know? The United Nations? It’s everywhere, and we just… we were in the dark.”

“George…”

“Something like this spreads like wildfire. I-I mean, we all lived through 2020, and we saw how fast that spread. But this is something else entirely. I… I can’t begin to think of any reasons to hide it. People are dead, and there’s still no response from the government. Any of them. I just… I don’t understand.”

You bit your lip. There was nothing you could say to comfort him. He was right, and you knew that he was right. The pain of that knowledge made your stomach curl uncomfortably, and you shifted.

He heaved another sigh, putting his phone on the bedside table. “Sorry, I… it’s not your fault. I just feel so useless. My friends are dead and missing, and this all just feels like it could’ve been prevented. Maybe, if I’d known, I…”

“You couldn’t have stopped this,” you cut him off. He looked at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, wild desperation and open sorrow mixing in his gaze. “Yeah, sure, you’re the head of the GDPA, but what does that mean? No one was ever going to tell us shit.”

“Still…”

“I get it. Why us, right? Why are we alive while our friends are out there, suffering, right?” He nodded shortly, stiffly. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring him right in the eyes. You grabbed his hand, and he clung to you. “I don’t get it, either, George. I’ll never understand.”

He held you harder. You could feel him shaking. “It’s got to mean something. We… we’re alive for a reason. Right?” he asked, his voice unsure.

You bit your lip. “Yeah,” you replied slowly. You didn’t want to admit that maybe you were just the lucky ones.

Clearly, he didn’t either as he pulled away and cleared his throat. For his sake, you ignored the way his voice shook and his tears slipped down his face. “So… you’re heading out now?”

“Yeah. I brought up what you said, and we agreed it’s probably best to move quickly. Plus, Logan brought up the Monaco Rifle Club. There’s a chance there’ll be some guns there.” A sigh escaped you. “Anything’s better than those golf clubs. I… if another one like Carlos showed up, I don’t know if I’d…”

“I wouldn’t. I think it’d kill me,” he admitted quietly. “I know you already promised that you’d be careful, so I won’t ask again. And I… I don’t know, I’ll figure something out. I just can’t sit here and do nothing, but fuck my luck, huh?” He grimaced, running a hand over his injured leg.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’ve got this, Georgie. We’ll make it,” you swore. He managed a small smile, although it was tinged with an unspoken pain.

Part of you hated how small he looked when you finally stood, grabbing your bag and leaving the room, making sure to shut the door behind you. The others were already waiting for you, weapons in hand, and you held out the two full water bottles wordlessly. Seb took one, Oscar took the other.

“Water’s off,” you answered the unasked question. “I only got two before it stopped.”

Seb hummed, a frown playing at his lips as he turned the water bottle in his hand. “We’ll have to make it last.”

Seb passed the bottle to Charles, who reluctantly took it and tucked it into his bag. Oscar followed suit, offering his to Logan. Logan wordlessly shook his head in protest. Oscar just rolled his eyes and shoved the bottle into Logan’s bag anyways, ignoring Logan trying to fight him off. Seb quickly led you all down the stairs and into the city.

The walk that would’ve usually been thirty minutes at most felt like an eternity of silence as you walked in the middle of the pack. Sebastian led the way, with Charles taking a protective stance in front of you and both Oscar and Logan trailing behind. There was a tense air that hung around your group as you made your way through the hauntingly empty city.

“Almost there,” Sebastian murmured as he peered around the corner. “Just a few more blocks.”

Your grip on your club grew tighter. You knew that you were lucky to have not run into more zombies than your group could handle. Blood dripped from the head of the golf club onto the pavement beneath you.

“You okay?” you heard Oscar murmur to Logan. You couldn’t hear Logan’s response, so you assumed he had nodded. “Okay. Just… stay close. We’re gonna be fine.”

Maybe, you began to think, there was a spot of hope in this Hell you found yourselves in. The next few blocks were completely empty. You saw a few roadblocks, helplessly set up by the Monaco Police Department, with cars abandoned and piled up high on the roads, left behind by those who had attempted to evacuate. Some were empty, their owners having fled when traffic came to a screeching halt, and some had bodies left in them, both dead and undead.

“All those people… do you think they made it?” Your question went unanswered as you looked over at Charles, who pointedly kept his gaze away from yours. You bit your lip. Maybe it was for the best that no one replied.

Silence fell again as Sebastian led your group right to the doors of the Rifle Club. You watched, every second causing a bit more panic to shoot through your veins as he fiddled with the chain and padlock keeping the doors shut.

“Isn’t there another way in?” Charles hissed. “We can’t stay out here too long—”

“Shut up,” Sebastian shot back immediately. “Any other way in is just asking to be jumped on. Just… give me time.” Although Charles looked like he wanted to reply, you grabbed his arm and shook your head.

It was a nerve wracking few minutes before the lock and chain fell to the ground, and Sebastian opened the doors. He held them open as you all darted in, with him following behind and closing the door.

As the door swung closed, darkness consumed the building. You glanced at the windows. They were boarded up, hastily set up to block the outside world. You heard Oscar mutter a curse to your left, and heard Charles rummaging through his bag on your right. Suddenly, there was a bright light as Charles held up his flashlight. You blinked from the sudden flash, your eyes struggling to adjust.

You blinked the darkness away, only to see Charles frozen in place, the flashlight shaking in his grasp. “Fuck,” he gasped. “What did they do…” Slowly, you followed his gaze, only for your stomach to flip as your breakfast fought its way back up your throat. You managed to hold yourself together, but just barely, as your eyes settled on the aftermath of the outbreak.

There were bodies, covered by blankets. Blood had seeped through the fabric, and had congealed where it spread across the tiles. None of them were moving.

The bodies that were moving were the ones that were hanging from the rafters. There were three in total, all of them growling unpleasantly and reaching for your group. You swallowed your sorrow, and glanced over at the rest of your group. Logan looked pale, paler than he’d been even in the past few days. Even Oscar looked positively ill.

Sebastian flicked his own light on and grimaced. “They’re bitten.” He gestured towards their arms, and you could just barely see the blood on each of them. “Explains why they…” he trailed off, hesitating to finish his sentence.

Instead, he walked forwards, lifting up his crowbar as he met the first living corpse. He muttered something under his breath before he swung. Once, twice, and the corpse fell still. You took a deep breath and followed him, swinging your club into the head of the zombie on the right. You saw Oscar move, pulling out of Logan’s grip, to put down the other one.

By the time  you’d done so, Seb had pulled a chair over and had pulled out a knife. “Hold this steady. I’ll get them down.” You and Charles held the arms of the chair as Seb stood on the seat, the kitchen knife sawing away at the rope. It took much longer than you would’ve thought, but eventually, the first body hit the floor with a sickening crack. You winced.

“You brought a knife?” you asked softly.

He bit his lip, turning the blade in his hands as he stepped down from the chair. “It’s not good for much but this. I doubt it could go through a skull.” He blinked, glancing down at the body. “What’s that?” He pointed towards a sheet of paper attached to the zombie’s shirt with a safety pin.

Charles reached for the paper and tore it from the front of the zombie’s shirt. He heaved a sigh before he began to read it.

“Whoever finds this, know that we are sorry. We had to take the lives of those that we loved, and for that, we beg God’s forgiveness. We were bitten in the struggle. We know what happens to those who are bitten, and we do not wish to die like that. Forgive us for not being strong enough to do what must be done. Please do what we could not.”

Silence fell over your group again. Your hands twitched, your entire body suddenly feeling itchy, like something was crawling beneath your skin. A shiver ran down your spine, and you sniffled, overwhelming grief for people that you’ve never met — and now, never will.

“C’mon,” Seb finally murmured. “Let’s get the others down.” Oscar pulled Logan to help Seb cut the ropes holding the other two bodies up. You stood completely still, next to Charles, who was frozen with the paper in his hands.

“Charles?” you asked softly. “Are you alright?”

It was like your voice snapped him out of a trance. He immediately crumpled the paper in his hands, and you could see a mixture of grief and rage in his eyes.

“I’m not,” he admitted. He turned to face you, dropping the paper on the floor and crushing it beneath his foot. “They were bitten, so they were going to die no matter what. But… I don’t get it. How were they strong enough to put down those they loved, but not themselves?”

You hesitated. “I guess… it’s because they put them down, probably. That kind of thing… doing that must’ve taken a lot out of them. So much that there was nothing left for themselves.” You slowly glanced at Charles out of the corners of your eyes.

For a moment, he was silent, his thousand yard stare trained on the body he stood over. He lifted his foot from the crumpled paper and took a deep, shaking breath. Finally, he kicked the paper towards the body.

“Promise me that none of us will end up like this.”

“I…” you trailed off; you knew that you couldn’t promise that none of you would die. “Charles, you know—”

“I don’t mean… like this.” He bit his lip. You could see the rage subsiding into a deep-seeded sorrow, a resignation that things were never going to go back to the way that they were. “I mean… if one of us is bitten. I don’t want any of us to turn.” He shuddered. You knew that he was thinking of Carlos, of the shell that had been his teammate, as it had shuffled mindlessly towards you.

You hesitated. You wanted to say yes, you wanted to agree. But you didn’t know if you were strong enough. To put down something that had once been your friend. Charles had done it. He had been the one to put down Carlos, to free his body from the undead prison it was trapped in. You just didn’t know if you would’ve been able to do the same.

“Charles…”

He cut you off with a shake of his head and a sad smile. “Forget I asked. I know that’s a lot. I’m… I’m sorry I asked.” He turned to rejoin everyone else, but you grabbed onto him before you could register your own motions. He looked back at you.

You bit your lip, heaving a shuddering breath. “No. I… I promise. I’m scared shitless, but I know that I’d want someone to do the same for me. So… so, I promise.”

“I’d do it for you. If it came to it, I would.”

You squeezed his arm before slowly letting go. “I know you would,” you replied, your voice so quiet you didn’t know if he could even hear you.

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, an understanding settling between the two of you.

“Guys.” Both of you turned as Oscar approached. “Seb found guns. Not a lot of them, but enough. The problem is bullets.” He held out two pistols. You slowly took the one he held out to you and turned it in your hands. The weight was foreign, and the gun felt cold to the touch. Charles took his, looking just as uncomfortable. “Even if this place wasn’t looted, they got into a fight here. Logan and Seb are looking for more bullets, but a lot of what’s left is for guns that are too hard for us to use. The recoil is too strong, or something like that.”

“I’ve… never shot a gun,” you admitted.

“Neither have I.” Charles sighed. “Although, I’m sure Logan has.”

“Hunting rifles, but these are different. They’re loud, and they can only hold a few bullets at a time,” Oscar explained, gesturing to the guns you both held. “They’re not going to be much use in a crisis, but it’s… better than nothing, I guess.”

You glanced at him. “Where’s yours?” He patted his bag. He’d probably dropped it into the front pocket.

Seb and Logan emerged from the hallway behind you. Seb held a stack of small boxes in one hand, a rifle in the other. “Here. A box of bullets each.” You gingerly took the box, hearing the bullets clatter around. You pursed your lips before putting them in your bag.

“You get a rifle?”

Seb smirked sardonically. “Well. Besides Logan, I’m the only one with experience.” You could see Charles mirroring your skeptical look. “Hey, I had a life before you all met me. Now, listen. We don’t have enough bullets for you guys to just start practicing. I’m sure Oscar already explained what these guns are. If we find better, we’ll swap. I have some extra bullets for different guns on me, just in case, but these are for emergencies only. One shot will likely bring all of Monaco down on us. We don’t waste bullets. Got it?”

“So, what do you consider an emergency?” Charles asked dryly.

For a moment Seb just stared at him. “If it’s your only choice,” he finally said, his voice low.

previous chapter | next chapter

[onepointsixkm]

misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - mv1

summary: max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before

word count: 8.2k + social media posts

folkie radio: another one of my babies finally sees the light of day 🥹 this fic is really special and i was lowkey gatekeeping it but i feel ready to share it, plss take care of it <3 i hope you like it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Max Verstappen was bored.

It was late and he was alone in his hotel room. He had a race the following day and he knew better than staying up late. His team was already on his ass for sim racing at ungodly hours of the night when he had a race, but nevertheless, he was bored and not sleepy yet.

He scrolled through his phone, not really paying attention to what popped up on his Instagram feed, Tiktok for you page or Twitter timeline.

After a few minutes, his finger landed on the YouTube app, one that he barely used if he was completely honest, but for some reason he never deleted it.

A bunch of videos showed up on his main page, most of them about F1, gaming, fitness or cats. He scrolled through the thumbnails absentmindedly until one title caught his eye: "Formula 1 Drivers as Romance Book Character Tropes."

Max had no idea how that video ended up in his suggestions page. He wasn't much of a reader—he had only read two books in his entire life, for crying out loud— but curiosity got the better of him. He clicked on the video.

The screen shifted to a bright and lively setup, where a young woman with vibrant energy and a contagious smile greeted her viewers. "Hey everyone! Welcome back to my channel. Today, we have a fun video where I'll be pairing Formula 1 drivers with romance book tropes!"

Max found himself smiling for some reason, he thought she was really engaging and funny — and really pretty—. He leaned back against his pillows, more intrigued by the second.

"As some of you might already know, books are not my only passion, I'm also a huge Formula 1 fan since I was a little kid thanks to my dad, so I thought it would be fun to do a little crossover of my two obsessions."

Max grinned again, finding himself oddly invested in this unexpected combination of romance literature and Formula 1. Or maybe just mesmerized by the pretty girl who was talking on his screen.

"Let's begin with Mercedes," she said, clapping her hands together, "Lewis Hamilton is definitely our 'Charming Prince Charming.' He's got the looks, the talent, and that air of royalty about him."

Max chuckled, thinking it was a fitting description for his rival.

"Now for George Russell," she continued, "I'm going with 'The Boy Next Door Who Grew Up Hot.' I mean, have you seen his glow-up?"

Max chuckled again, nodding in agreement. George had indeed transformed quite a bit since his Williams days.

"Moving on to Ferrari," she continued enthusiastically. Max wondered if that was her favorite team on the grid, "Charles Leclerc is our classic 'Childhood Best Friend You've Always Had a Crush On.' He's got that sweet, familiar charm, but with a spark that makes your heart race every time you see him."

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in description. He had to admit, it fit Charles quite well.

"And for Carlos Sainz," she paused dramatically, "he's either our 'Older Brother's Best Friend' or the 'Bad Guy Who's Mean to Everyone but His Sweetheart', just think about it, he's got that rugged exterior, but you just know he's a total sweetheart deep down."

Max laughed, realizing she had Carlos pegged perfectly. He watched with growing interest as she continued.

"Now, let's talk about McLaren," she said with a sparkle in her eye. "Lando Norris is our 'Adorkable Comedian Who Steals Your Heart.' He's funny, relatable, and has a way of making you fall for him before you even realize it," Max grinned at the description of his good friend, "And Oscar Piastri... he's 'The Shy Genius.' Quiet, reserved, but incredibly talented and intelligent. He might not be the loudest in the room, but he's someone you'd definitely want on your side."

Max nodded in agreement, thinking of how Oscar had impressed everyone since joining McLaren. She continued pairing each driver with a character trope, she described Daniel as the "Life of the Party with a Sensitive Soul," highlighting his infectious energy and hidden depths. Pierre was dubbed the "Resilient Underdog," emphasizing his ability to bounce back from setbacks. Yuki was described as the "Fiery Spitfire with a Soft Center" and Logan was labeled the "Rookie with Untapped Potential," suggesting a character arc of growth and discovery.

With each driver's description, Max's anticipation grew. He found himself eagerly awaiting his own characterization, both curious and slightly apprehensive about how the pretty girl with an obsession with books and Formula 1 would describe him.

When she finally got to Red Bull, he sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued.

"Now for Sergio Perez," she said, "he's our 'Loyal Wingman Who Deserves His Own Happy Ending.' Always there to support, but with a story of his own waiting to be told."

Max nodded, thinking it was a pretty accurate description of his teammate.

"And finally, saved the best for last," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we have Max Verstappen."

Max held his breath, oddly nervous about how this stranger would categorize him.

"Max is our 'Misunderstood Hero with a Heart of Gold,'" she said with a warm smile. "Often perceived as cold or distant, but actually deeply caring and protective of those close to him. He's the type who shows his love through actions rather than words."

Max felt his cheeks warm significantly. This description caught him completely off guard. It wasn't the usual 'aggressive driver' or 'arrogant champion' narrative he was used to hearing. Instead, it felt... true. Uncomfortably true. He wasn't sure how to feel about being seen so accurately by a stranger.

As the video ended after she said her goodbyes, Max found himself staring at his phone screen, replaying her words in his mind, his thumb hovering over the comment section. He had never left a comment on a YouTube video before, but something about this one compelled him to break that habit.

After a moment's hesitation, he tapped the comment box and began typing, Once he was done, he paused, reading over his words. It felt strange, almost vulnerable, to acknowledge her characterization of him. But there was also something liberating about it. He added a thumbs-up emoji at the end and hit 'Post' before he could second-guess himself.

As Max set his phone down and settled into bed, a small smile played on his lips. He had a important race the following day, but all he wanted to think and dream about was the pretty stranger who had somehow seen through his carefully crafted public persona.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by username1, username2 and 10,725 others

f1gossip “I went to bed early last night. Just listened to the team’s orders, you know?”

Max Verstappen for media day today, however he left a comment on a YouTube video around 2:46 am 😭

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username1 HES SOOOOO

username2 the fact that he left a comment on a BOOKTUBER’S channel MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU DONT EVEN READ BOOKS 😭

username3 he looks so pretty tho

username4 MAX WE ALL SAW YOU

username5 max was actually checking which romance trope is him according to booktubers

username6 HES SO RANDOM

username7 max’s search history: lestappen as fictional couples

liked by username1, username2 and 102,438 others

ynreadsbooks in honor of max verstappen x3 world champion commenting on my latest video (which is insane to say out loud wtf) should i do another f1 themed video?? any suggestions?

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username1 YES QUEEN

username2 that max comment was so random but so real

username3 max verstappen, the man who has read two books in 27 years watching booktubers was not on my bingo card

username4 @/maxverstappen1 you favorite youtuber will do another video about you

username5 BOOKS WITH RACING THEMES

username6 books inspired by f1 circuits would be fun

username7 @/maxverstappen drop a suggestion

maxverstappen1 started following ynreadsbooks

liked by username1, username2 and 15,836 others

f1gossip Max Verstappen was seen outside of a bookshop in Monaco today !

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username1 BABYYYY

username2 max ??? bookshop ????

username3 WHAT SHIFTED

username4 he thought it was jimmyz

username5 HEELPP what is he doing there

username6 hello i work there. he arrived with a list of books in hand that he wanted, he bought around 15 action and fantasy books

↳ username1 FOR REAL???

↳ username2 max said book girl summer

↳ username3 this is so random

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If someone had told Max that this year he would spend his summer break reading, he would've laughed at their faces. Yet here he was, lounging by the pool in his Monaco house, a book in his hands and a smile on his face.

As he turned the page of "The Martian," the latest sci-fi recommendation from YN, Max couldn't help but reflect on how different this summer break was.

Usually, his days off were filled with lavish yacht parties, exclusive clubs, or intense training sessions and hours of sim racing to stay sharp for the second half of the season. But now, he found himself eagerly devouring books and spending hours chatting with YN about plots, characters, and everything in between.

As the weeks passed, Max found himself growing increasingly close to YN, despite never having met her in person. Their text conversations flowed effortlessly, ranging from in-depth discussions about the books they were reading to playful banter about racing and life in general.

Max was surprised by how much he enjoyed her company, even in this digital form. Her wit, intelligence, and genuine interest in his thoughts beyond his racing persona were refreshing. He found himself sharing things he rarely discussed with others, and looking forward to her messages became a highlight of his day.

He also thought she was absolutely gorgeous.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a new message from her.

Max chuckled, about to reply when he heard the doorbell. He remembered Lando and Daniel were coming over for dinner. As he got up to let them in, he quickly typed a response, telling her that he would talk to her later.

"Well, well, well," Daniel's voice boomed as Max opened the door. "If it isn't the newly minted bookworm of Formula 1!"

Lando peered around Daniel's shoulder, "I half expected to find you wearing glasses and a sweater vest, mate."

"Very funny, guys. Come in," Max rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the door.

Ever since his friends noticed his brand new habit, they took it upon themselves to tease him whenever they could. As they made their way to the backyard, Daniel spotted the book on the lounger.

"The Martian?" he read, picking it up. "Isn't this a bit advanced for your reading level, Maxy?"

"Ha ha," Max deadpanned, snatching the book back. "It's actually really good. It's about this astronaut who gets stranded on Mars and has to use science and engineering to survive-"

"Whoa, whoa," Lando interrupted, holding up his hands. "Who are you and what have you done with Max Verstappen?"

Daniel draped an arm around Max's shoulders. "I think our boy here is trying to impress a certain bookish YouTuber. What was her name again? YN?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "It's not like that. We just... talk about books and stuff."

"And stuff," Daniel repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Max rolled his eyes, trying to brush off their teasing. "Seriously, it's not like that. We just have a lot in common."

Daniel and Lando exchanged knowing glances before bursting into laughter.

"Sure, mate," Daniel said, patting Max on the back. "Whatever you say."

They settled by the pool, beers in hand, and started chatting about the upcoming races and their plans for the rest of the summer. Despite the playful ribbing, Max found himself genuinely enjoying their company. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friends.

As the evening wore on, the conversation eventually circled back to Max's books and his little friend on his phone.

"So, Max," Lando started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "have you color-coded your bookshelf yet? Or are you more of a chronological order kind of guy?"

"Nah, mate. I bet he organizes them by how many times YN has mentioned them," Daniel chimed in, "Top shelf is probably her favorites, right Maxy?"

Max felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn't help grinning. "You two are impossible."

"When are you finally going to meet her in person anyway?" Lando said, sipping from his beer.

Max shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the slight flutter in his chest. "I don't know. That's not something I've really thought about,"

He lied. In truth, the thought of meeting YN had crossed his mind countless times. The idea of finally seeing the girl who had captivated him with her intelligence, humor, and beauty made his heart race. He'd catch himself daydreaming about her smile, wondering if it was as warm and infectious in person as it seemed in her videos. But he wasn't ready to admit that to his friends just yet.

Lando and Daniel exchanged a look, clearly not buying Max's nonchalant act.

"Oh come on," Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You expect us to believe that? You've been glued to your phone for weeks, mate."

"I bet he's already planned their first date," Daniel leaned in, "What'll it be, Max? A romantic book reading by candlelight? Or maybe a visit to the library?"

Max felt his cheeks heating up again. "It's not like that, guys. We're just friends."

"Friends who talk every day and have you blushing like a schoolgirl," Lando teased, nudging Max with his elbow.

"I do not blush like a schoolgirl," Max protested, knowing full well that his face was probably bright red by now.

"Sure, sure," Daniel said with a wink. "Just friends. So, have you at least thought about inviting her to a race? You know, show her what you do when you're not reading about Mars?"

"Why would I invite her to a race, that would be weird," Max protested again, "And she already knows what I do, she's a fan of the sport."

"Man, you're so stubborn sometimes," Lando rolled his eyes at him, "If you like this girl, why don't you invite her to a race? It could be a great way to finally meet in person."

"And who said that I liked her," once again, Max's defensive self came through.

Daniel and Lando shared an exasperated look before turning back to Max.

"Come on, mate," Daniel said, his tone gentler now. "It's pretty obvious. We've never seen you this invested in someone before. Not to mention, you're reading books voluntarily for the first time since... well, ever."

"It's written all over your face," Lando said, shaking his head. "You like her, and there's no shame in that. You light up every time your phone buzzes. It's kind of adorable, actually."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew his friends were right, but admitting it out loud felt like a big step. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do like her. But it's complicated, you know? We've never even met in person."

"That's exactly why you should invite her to a race," Lando insisted. "It's the perfect opportunity. She gets to see you in your element, and you get to finally meet face-to-face."

"Plus," Daniel added with a mischievous grin, "if things go well, you can always show her your trophy collection. I hear that's a great way to impress the ladies."

Max couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," Daniel shrugged, "but I'm also right. What have you got to lose?"

Max pondered this for a moment. The idea of meeting YN in person both thrilled and terrified him. What if they didn't click in real life the way they did over text? But then again, what if they did?

"I'll think about it," Max finally conceded.

Lando and Daniel exchanged triumphant grins.

"That's our boy," Lando said, patting his back.

After a few more beers and food, Lando and Daniel left.

As the night deepened, Max found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation with Lando and Daniel kept replaying in his mind. His phone sat on the nightstand, silent but somehow still demanding his attention.

Max's thoughts raced. Should he text YN? Invite her to Zandvoort? The idea made his heart beat faster. He imagined seeing her in person for the first time, wondering if her smile would be as pretty as it was in her videos. But doubt crept in too. What if things were awkward? What if the chemistry they had online didn't translate to real life?

He rolled onto his side, eyeing his phone. The urge to reach out to her was strong, as it always was. Max realized that Lando and Daniel were right - he did like her. A lot. The thought of meeting her filled him with equal parts excitement and nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, Max grabbed his phone. Before he could overthink it, he started typing.

Hey YN, hope I'm not messaging too late. I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Dutch GP at Zandvoort? It's the first race after the summer break, and my home race. Thought it might be fun if you could make it.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. The wait for her response felt eternal. When his phone finally buzzed, Max's heart leapt.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 286,375 others

ynreadsbooks this week’s video will be delayed for some ~personal reasons ☺️

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username1 GIRL

username2 ARE YOU GOING WHERE I THINK YOU’RE GOING

username3 f1 x books this is literally me

username4 hot girls support max verstappen

username5 ahh if she’s going to the gp i’ll be so happy bc she’s a huge fan

username6 the way roles reversed and now max is his fan 😭

redbullracing We can’t wait 💙

↳ username1 REDBULL???

↳ username2 AHHH THEY PROBABLY INVITED HER

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

As Max headed to Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix, he felt the familiar weight of expectations settling on his shoulders.

The second half of the season loomed ahead, and the pressure to maintain his championship lead was on. He knew the team was counting on him to deliver strong results, especially at his home race where the orange-clad fans would be out in full force.

But amidst the pressure and responsibility, there was another emotion bubbling up inside him - a giddy excitement that he couldn't quite contain.

The thought of finally meeting YN in person after months of texts, calls, and shared book recommendations made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with driving at a car at a very fast speed.

As he drove to the track, Max found himself smiling at random moments, his mind drifting to imagine what it would be like to see her smile in person, to hear her laugh without the filter of a phone call.

Max realized that for the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to a race weekend for reasons that extended beyond the track.

Unfortunately, his busy schedule kept them from meeting right away. Media commitments, team briefings, and practice sessions consumed his time, leaving him feeling frustrated and guilty for not being able to see her sooner. He sent her a quick message apologizing for the delay, promising they'd meet after qualifying.

As he made his way to the garage, a familiar voice called out behind him.

"Oi, Max! Ready for the big day?"

Max turned to see Daniel jogging up to him, his trademark grin in place.

"Yeah, should be a good quali," Max replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't talking about qualifying, mate. Your special guest arrives today, right?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "How did you even remember that?"

"Please," Daniel scoffed. "It's all you've been talking about for weeks. So, have you met her yet?"

"No, my schedule's been packed. We're supposed to meet after quali."

"Ah, saving the best for last, eh?" Daniel's grin widened, "Smart move. Nothing like the adrenaline of a good qualifying session to make a great first impression."

"Or to completely mess it up," Max muttered.

"Hey, none of that," Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself. She already likes you for who you are, remember?"

Max nodded, feeling a bit reassured. "Thanks, Dan."

With a deep breath, Max headed into the garage, Daniel's words echoing in his mind.

Qualifying went smoothly, with Max securing a front row start to the delight of the Dutch fans. The cheers of the home crowd were deafening as he climbed out of the car, but his mind was elsewhere.

After the post-qualifying interviews, Max sent YN a quick text letting her know that he was free now and she let him know that she was around the hospitality area.

As he walked towards there, Max spotted YN standing near one of the motorhomes, looking around with wide eyes. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a moment, Max just watched her, taking in the sight of the girl who had been on his mind for months now.

She was even more gorgeous in person than he had imagined.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the bustling paddock around her. The way the sunlight caught her hair, the gentle curve of her smile as she observed everything with wonder - it all took Max's breath away.

He noticed little details he couldn't have seen through a screen: the way her eyes sparkled, the subtle freckles across her nose, the graceful way she moved as she looked around.

Taking a deep breath, Max walked over, his heart pounding. "YN?"

She turned, her face lighting up with a radiant smile that made Max's breath catch. "Max! Finally!"

They moved toward each other, and without hesitation, Max pulled her into a hug. The embrace felt natural, as if they'd done this a hundred times before. He was aware of how perfectly she fit in his arms, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her body against his.

"It's so good to finally meet you," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry it took so long, this weekend's been crazy."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with understanding in her eyes. "It's okay, Max. That qualifying was amazing! I've never experienced anything like it."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Come on, let me show you around."

He took her hand and he was struck by how natural it felt. Her fingers intertwined with his perfectly, and a warm sensation spread from their joined hands throughout his body.

They strolled through the paddock, Max pointing out the various team motorhomes, the garages, and the media center. YN was all wide-eyed fascination, asking questions and soaking in every detail. As they walked, Max found himself relaxing more and more, his previous nerves about their chemistry being gone fading away.

As they rounded a corner, they nearly bumped into Lando Norris. Who couldn't help but smirk at the sight of their hands intertwined.

"You guys met already!" he cheerfully said, "You must be YN."

Her cheeks flushed, clearly surprised that Max had mentioned her to his friends. Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her reaction.

"Yeah, this is YN," Max said, unable to keep the smile off his face, "Meet Lando, the perpetual pain in my ass."

"Nice to finally meet the girl who's got Max reading," YN laughed, and Lando extended his hand, "Quite the accomplishment."

"Nice to meet you too, Lando," YN said, shaking his hand. "I've enjoyed watching you race, I'm a big fan. Congrats on the pole position."

"Cheers," Lando replied, then turned to Max with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, has he bored you with car talk yet, or has he actually remembered how to discuss books?"

Max rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow, Lando?"

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," Lando chuckled. "Enjoy your tour, lovebirds!"

As Lando walked away, Max felt a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He glanced at YN, relieved to see her smiling.

"Sorry about him," Max said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Lando has a way of making everything awkward."

YN laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "It's fine. He seems like fun."

They continued their walk, finally making their way to the rooftop terrace of the Red Bull hospitality area. The view was stunning, offering a panoramic look at the circuit and the sea of orange-clad fans below.

"This is incredible," YN said, leaning against the railing and taking it all in. "Thank you for showing me around, Max."

"Of course," Max said, standing beside her. "I'm really glad you could come."

They stood there for a moment, enjoying the view and each other's company. Max felt a sense of contentment wash over him, the stress of the weekend melting away in her presence.

"Max," YN said softly, turning to face him. "I know this weekend is important for you, and I don't want to be a distraction. But I'm really happy to be here and to finally meet you."

"You're not a distraction," Max replied, reaching out to take her hand again. "You're the best part of this weekend, honestly."

They shared a smile, Max was well aware of the butterflies that fluttered on his stomach and the high school girl blush his friends teased him about, but he didn't care. He felt happy with the pretty girl who had been his source of comfort for months, finally face to face.

"You know," YN said softly, "when I made that video calling you a misunderstood hero with a heart of gold, I never imagined I'd get to see it firsthand. But being here, seeing how you are with your team, with the fans… I was right about you, Max Verstappen."

Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He had always been guarded about his public image, but hearing her perspective meant more than he could ever imagine.

"I'm glad you think so," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You know, that video... it changed things for me. Not just because it led to us talking, but because it made me reflect on a lot of things."

"Who would've thought," YN said with a smile, "When I recorded that video, I never thought you would ever see it, let alone have an impact on you and let alone lead us to talking and me being here."

"Everything happens for a reason, right?"

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ynreadsbooks best experience ever. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU 🥺💙

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username1 OMFGGGG

username2 no one deserved this more than her for real

username3 SHE MET MAX TOO?? DESERVED

redbullracing Come back soon! 😉

username4 red bull finally inviting people who actually love the sport

username5 GIRL WE NEED A VLOGGGG

username6 omg how did this happen spiiiill

↳ ynreadsbooks let's say i got invited by the world champion

↳ username1 WTF

↳ username2 so MAX invited her not redbull help he really did become a fan after that video

danielricciardo Hope to see you around soon, love ! 👀

↳ username3 how do i sign up for this

username7 THAT PIC OF MAX IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED

maxversteppen1 Thank you so much for coming and making this day special ☺️

↳ username1 OMG MAX

↳ username2 i'd be screaming if i was her

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maxverstappen1 Enjoyed every moment in Zandvoort with this amazing atmosphere and the best company 🧡

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username1 KIIING

username2 how can a man be so babygirl

username3 all smiles even tho he finished p2

danielricciardo 🦁🦁

landonorris Simply lovely

↳ username1 menace

username4 bro who got you smiling like that

ynreadsbooks ❤️

↳ username2 biggest max girlie

↳ username3 WE NEED THAT VLOG

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When it came time for YN to leave the Netherlands, Max insisted on driving her to the airport himself. The car ride was filled with comfortable silence and soft conversation, both of them trying to stretch out their remaining time together.

Despite their short time together, Max found himself completely smitten, captivated by YN's intelligence, humor, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books or reacted to the thrill of the race.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was head over heels for her.

As they stood in the departure terminal, Max felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He hesitated, his heart racing, but ultimately settled for a long, warm hug, breathing in her scent and committing it to memory. As he watched her walk through security, he already found himself missing her presence.

Now, a week later, Max was in Monza for the Italian Grand Prix. The day had been busy with media commitments and team meetings. Finally back in the quiet of his motorhome, Max flopped onto the couch, feeling drained but content. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and hit the FaceTime button next to YN's name.

Her smiling face appeared on the screen, and Max felt an immediate surge of warmth.

"Hey, you," she said, her voice soft and welcoming even through the phone's speakers.

"Hey," Max replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. "How's your day been?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Editing videos, reading, missing the excitement of the paddock," YN teased. "How about you? Surviving the media circus?"

"Barely," Max groaned dramatically, "I swear, if I have to answer one more question about RedBull and their big mess, I might go mad."

YN laughed, the sound making Max's heart skip a beat. "Poor Max. Whatever shall we do to take your mind off your beloved team?"

"Well," Max said, shifting to get more comfortable, "I've been reading that new sci-fi book you recommended. 'The Martian-like Odyssey to Titan,' or whatever it's called."

"'Project Hail Mary,'" she corrected, "And? What do you think so far?"

"It's incredible!" Max's eyes lit up, "I mean, the science is fascinating, and the way the main character problem-solves is just... I don't know, it reminds me a bit of what we do in racing, you know? Constantly adapting, finding solutions on the fly."

"That's exactly why I thought you'd like it! The way Andy Weir writes about scientific problem-solving is so engaging."

They dove into an animated discussion about the book, Max marveling at how easily conversation flowed between them, how YN's passion for books was infectious. As they talked, a thought that had been brewing in Max's mind for days suddenly surfaced.

"YN," Max said, his voice softer than before. "There's actually something I've been wanting to ask you."

"Oh? What is it, Max?" she tilted her head, curiosity evident in her expression.

Max took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like he was about to qualify for a crucial race. "Well, I was wondering... have you ever been to Monaco?"

"No, actually, I haven't," YN's eyebrows raised in surprise, "It's always been on my travel wish list, though. Why do you ask?"

Max felt his heart rate pick up. He'd rehearsed this moment in his head countless times over the past few days, but now that it was here, he found himself fumbling for words.

"Well, you see, I have a two-week break coming up before the Baku GP, and I was thinking... maybe... if you're free, of course, and if you'd like to... you could come visit me in Monaco?"

The words tumbled out faster than he intended, and Max felt a blush creeping up his neck. He watched YN's face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. His mind raced with possibilities - what if she said no? What if this was too forward?

YN's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. "Oh, Max, that's... wow. That's really sweet of you to offer."

Max, sensing a hint of hesitation, quickly added, "You could stay at my place. I have plenty of room, and it would be great to have you around. Plus I have two adorable cats that I'm sure you'd love."

YN's expression softened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes. "That sounds amazing, Max. But… are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on your personal space or your time off."

Truth was, Max wanted to spent every free moment he had with her, but he wasn't sure how to let her know without sounding too forward or like a creep, so he just pressed on.

"You wouldn't be imposing at all, I promise. I really want us to spend more time together, away from the craziness of the race weekends. And I'd love to show you around Monaco."

He watched as YN bit her lip, considering his offer. The silence stretched for a moment, and Max found himself holding his breath.

"If you're not comfortable staying at my place," he added quickly, "I could book you a hotel room, or there are some great Airbnbs with amazing views of the harbor. Whatever makes you feel most at ease. I just… I really want to see you again."

As he spoke, Max realized just how true his words were. The thought of having YN in his space, sharing meals, exploring the city together - it filled him with a warmth he couldn't quite describe. It was more than just attraction; there was a comfort in her presence that he craved.

YN smiled, a warm look in her eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do. Look, I know it might seem like a big ask, but I just... I can't stop thinking about how much fun we have together. And Monaco is beautiful this time of year. We could go for drives along the coast, have dinner at some amazing restaurants, or just relax by the pool if you prefer. No pressure, just... us. And well, the cats."

Max held his breath, waiting for her response. The thought of having YN in Monaco, of being able to spend uninterrupted time with her away from the pressures of the race weekend, made his heart soar. He imagined showing her his favorite spots in the city, maybe taking her out on his boat, or just lounging by the pool and talking for hours.

"Alright, Verstappen, you've convinced me. But I have one condition."

"Name it." Max grinned, relief and excitement washing over him.

"If I'm staying at your place, you have to let me cook my infamous waffles for breakfast. They're a secret family recipe, and I guarantee they'll be the best you've ever tasted."

"Deal," Max's smile widened, a burst of joy exploding in his chest. "But I warn you, I take my waffles very seriously. They better live up to the hype."

"Oh, they will. And I can't wait to meet the cats."

As they continued to chat and make plans for YN's visit, Max felt a warmth spreading through his chest. The prospect of having YN in his home, of waking up and knowing she was just in the next room, of being able to spend lazy mornings together over homemade waffles - it all seemed almost too good to be true.

He found himself imagining what it would be like to have her there. Would she curl up on his couch with a book? Would they watch the sunset from his terrace? Would he finally get the courage to kiss her?

The thought made his heart race. He remembered the moment at the airport when he had wanted so badly to kiss her goodbye. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't let the opportunity pass by.

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The day of YN's arrival in Monaco had finally come, and Max felt like a giddy teenager preparing for his first date.

In the days leading up to YN's visit, Max had found himself unusually preoccupied with preparations. He wanted everything to be perfect for YN's stay. He'd bought new sheets for the guest bedroom, making sure they were the softest he could find. He'd stocked the fridge with an array of foods, unsure of her preferences but making sure to have options. He'd even gone so far as to buy a small collection of books he thought she might enjoy, arranging them carefully on the nightstand in her room.

The morning of her arrival, Max woke up early, his stomach a knot of excitement and nerves. He double-checked everything one last time - fresh towels in the bathroom, extra toiletries in case she forgot anything, a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen counter to brighten up the space. He felt almost silly with how much effort he was putting in, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted everything to be perfect for the girl he was smitten with.

As the time to leave for the airport approached, Max found himself pacing, checking his watch every few minutes. He'd planned the route to the airport meticulously, factoring in potential traffic to make sure he'd be there in plenty of time. Just as he was about to grab his keys and head out, the doorbell rang.

Confused, Max paused. He wasn't expecting anyone - he'd made sure to clear his schedule completely for YN's visit. Frowning slightly, he opened the door to find Lando standing there, a wide grin on his face.

"Lando? What are you doing here?" Max asked, glancing at his watch.

"What, can't a mate drop by for a visit?" Lando replied, trying to peer past Max into the apartment. "Thought we could hang out, maybe play some FIFA."

Max shifted awkwardly, blocking the doorway. "Lando, mate, I'm actually just about to head out. I can't hang out right now."

"Oh, come on," Lando's grin faltered slightly, "Just for a bit? We haven't had a proper catch-up in ages."

"I'm sorry, I really can't," Max insisted, glancing at his watch nervously. "I have to pick up a friend from the airport."

Lando's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a mischievous glint appearing. "A friend, huh? Is it that your book dream girl? You're flying her out over here?"

Max felt his face heat up, a blush creeping up his neck. He tried to deny it, but his reaction gave him away.

"It is! Oh man, this is brilliant," Lando's eyes widened in delight, "Max Verstappen, blushing like a schoolboy over a girl."

"Shut up," Max grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He couldn't help but smile.

"So, YN is finally gracing Monaco with her presence," Lando teased. "No wonder you've been so distracted lately. When do I get to hang out with her?"

"You don't," Max rolled his eyes, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

"Alright, alright," Lando stepped aside, still grinning. "But I want details later, yeah? And tell YN I said hi."

Max waved him off, hurrying to his car. Despite Lando's teasing, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. The excitement was bubbling up inside him again as he drove to the airport.

As he parked and made his way to the arrivals area, Max felt his nerves almost making him want to throw up. He found himself fidgeting, alternating between pacing and sitting, his eyes glued to the arrivals board.

Finally, he saw that YN's flight had landed. His heart rate picked up as he watched the doors, scanning the crowd for her familiar face. And then, suddenly, there she was.

YN emerged from the arrivals gate, looking a bit tired from the journey but still radiant. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on Max, her face lit up with a brilliant smile.

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He raised his hand in a small wave, a grin spreading across his face as he walked towards her.

"Hey, Max," she said as she reached him, her voice warm and slightly breathless.

"Hey," he replied, suddenly feeling shy. "How was your flight?"

Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. As he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, he felt a sense of rightness wash over him. It was as if all the pieces were falling into place.

"It was good, just long," she hugged him back tightly. "I'm so glad to be here though."

As they pulled apart, Max found himself reluctant to let go completely. He kept one hand on her back as he reached for her suitcase with the other. "Here, let me get that for you."

"Always the gentleman," YN teased, but her smile was soft and appreciative.

As they walked towards the exit, Max found himself stealing glances at her, still hardly believing she was really here. "So, um, I thought we could grab some lunch if you're hungry? Or if you're tired, we can head straight to my place so you can rest."

YN considered for a moment. "Lunch sounds great, actually. I'm starving, and I'm too excited to sleep just yet. I want to see Monaco."

Max chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her enthusiasm. "Lunch it is then. I know just the place – it has a great view of the harbor."

As they made their way to Max's car, chatting easily about YN's flight and Max's plans for her visit, Max felt a sense of contentment he hadn't experienced in a long time. The nervousness from earlier had melted away, replaced by pure happiness.

Loading YN's suitcase into the trunk, Max caught her eye and smiled. "I'm really glad you're here, YN."

She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling. "Me too, Max. Me too."

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username1 AWEEE

username2 those are cute kittens

username3 those look like max verstappen's cats

username4 JIMMY AND SASSY VERSTAPPEN??

↳ username1 how CRAZY would it be

danielricciardo Don't hesitate to shout if he's much trouble

↳ username2 HOLD ON??

↳ ynreadsbooks he's just fine don't worry 😅

↳ username3 IS SHE REALLY WITH MAX??

↳ maxverstappen1 I'm not trouble...

↳ username1 OMFGGG

↳ username4 THIS PLOT TWIST

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Three days had passed since YN's arrival in Monaco, and Max couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier.

True to her word, YN had cooked her infamous waffles for breakfast on the second morning of her stay. As Max had taken his first bite, his eyes had widened in surprise and delight. The waffles were light and crispy on the outside, yet fluffy on the inside, with a perfect balance of sweetness and a hint of vanilla. He'd declared them the best he'd ever tasted, earning a proud smile from her.

The days that followed had been filled with laughter, conversation, and exploration. They'd spent hours by Max's pool, talking about everything and nothing. YN would often bring a book, reading aloud passages that she found particularly interesting or amusing, while Max listened, content to hear her voice and watch the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved.

They'd explored Monaco together, with Max showing YN his favorite spots and discovering new ones together. He'd taken her to the Monte Carlo Casino, where they'd marveled at the architecture and people-watched. They'd strolled through the streets of Monaco-Ville, the old town, where YN had been enchanted by the colorful buildings. They'd even spent an afternoon at the Oceanographic Museum, where YN's enthusiasm for learning had been infectious, and Max had found himself just as excited as she was about the marine life exhibits.

Throughout it all, Max felt himself falling deeper for her. It wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence that captivated him, but the way she saw the world. Her curiosity, her kindness, her ability to find joy in the smallest things - it all made Max see his surroundings through new eyes. He found himself noticing details he'd never paid attention to before, appreciating moments he might have otherwise overlooked.

What struck Max most was how easy and right it all felt. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Being with YN was as natural as breathing. They could talk for hours without running out of things to say, but they were also comfortable in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

As they returned from another long day of exploring the city, both Max and YN retreated to their respective rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Max opted for a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, relishing the feeling of being relaxed and at ease in his own home.

When he emerged from his room, he found YN already settled on his couch, her legs tucked under her, a book in her hands and one of his cats curling beside her. She was wearing one the t-shirt she picked the night she arrived when she realized she forgot to pack pajamas. It was too big for her frame but Max felt like melting knowing she was wearing his shirt.

The sight made Max's heart skip a beat. There was something so intimate and domestic about the scene - YN looking completely at home in his space, in his clothes, absorbed in a book as if she'd always been there.

Max couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest. He found himself wanting this view in his life every day - coming home to find YN there, comfortable and content. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, never wanted to intertwine his life so completely with another person's.

YN looked up from her book, catching Max's gaze. Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Hey. Want to join me?"

Without hesitation, Max crossed the room. Instead of sitting next to her, he surprised both of them by lying down on the couch and resting his head in her lap. He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable. "Would you read to me?"

YN's expression softened, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Of course," she said, her free hand moving to gently run her fingers through his hair.

Max closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. He felt her shift slightly, getting comfortable, and then her voice filled the air, soft and melodious as she began to read.

Max's lips curved into a smile. "Emma," he murmured. "I remember you mentioning it was one of your favorites."

YN paused her reading, looking down at him with surprise and pleasure. "You remembered that?"

"Of course," Max opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I remember everything you tell me."

A huge grin appeared in YN's face, and she bent down to press a soft kiss to Max's forehead. The gesture was so natural, so tender, that it made Max's heart flutter.

As she continued to read, her fingers still combing through his hair, Max found himself only half-listening to the words. Instead, he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them - the warmth of her lap under his head, the gentle touch of her fingers, the soft cadence of her voice washing over him.

In that moment, Max realized with startling clarity that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Not just the glamour of racing or the thrill of victory, but this - quiet moments of intimacy, the comfort of being with someone who understood him, who made him want to be better.

He reached up, gently taking YN's free hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. She paused in her reading, looking down at him with a question in her eyes.

"YN," Max said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm really glad you're here."

She squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "So am I, Max. So am I."

As she resumed reading, her voice mixing with the soft sound of the Mediterranean breeze outside, Max closed his eyes again, a sense of peace settling over him. Whatever the future held, he knew that this moment, this feeling, was something he'd cherish forever.

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username1 GIRL

username2 THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY

username3 how do you go from max randomly commenting one of your videos to this

username4 girl we can tell that's max dw 😭😭

username5 YOU OWE US A TWO HOUR STORYTIME VIDEO

username6 anything you want to tell us best friend?

username7 she just had a book and a dream fr

landonorris Has he bored you yet?

↳ username1 IM DYING

↳ username2 she really masterminded her way into the f1 circle

↳ ynreadsbooks he's nice, makes good smoothies 😉

↳ maxverstappen1 Good to know that ❤️

↳ landonorris I'm disgusted

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As the final day of YN's stay in Monaco dawned, Max found himself feeling so many bittersweet emotions. The past week had been nothing short of magical, and the thought of it coming to an end left a hollow feeling in his chest. She hadn't even left yet, and already he missed her.

For their final day, Max had decided to take YN out on his yacht. He wanted their last hours together to be special, just the two of them away from the bustling streets of Monaco. As they prepared for the day, packing a picnic and gathering sunscreen and towels, Max couldn't help but reflect on the past week.

Daniel and Lando had teased him mercilessly about his sudden disappearance from their usual hangouts. They'd made jokes about Max being "whipped" and how he'd fallen hard for his "YouTube dream girl." But Max didn't care. He was too happy, too caught up in the bubble of joy that surrounded him and YN.

As they boarded the yacht, the Mediterranean stretching out before them in shades of turquoise, Max felt a pang in his chest. This perfect week was coming to an end, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face reality again.

Once they were out on the open water. YN leaned over the railing, a look of wonder on her face.

"This is incredible, Max," she said, turning to him with a dazzling smile. "I can't believe I'm here, experiencing all of this."

Max moved to stand beside her, their shoulders brushing. "I'm going to miss you," he said softly, "This week has been… I don't even have words for it."

"I'm going to miss you too, Max. So much. But you know I have to go back home. I have videos to make for my channel, work stuff to catch up on…"

Max nodded, understanding but not liking it. "Maybe you could make a video about 'A Week with an F1 Driver'? I'm sure your subscribers would love that."

YN laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over well. 'Day 3: Watched Max eat his bodyweight in pasta. Day 5: Learned that F1 drivers are actually big babies when they lose at Mario Kart.'"

"I am not a baby!" Max gasped in mock offense. "I'm just… competitive."

"Uh-huh, sure," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Is that why you pouted for an hour after I beat you?"

"I did not pout," Max protested, but he was grinning.

"You know, it's still surreal to me that a random video I published got us here. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be spending a week in Monaco with Max Verstappen, I would have laughed in their face."

Max reached out, caressing her cheek softly. "I'm glad you made that video," he said softly. "I'm glad I stumbled across it. I can't imagine not knowing you now."

As they stood together on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves mirroring the tumultuous emotions within them, Max found his gaze drawn to YN's lips. They were slightly parted, soft and inviting. His heart raced as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a silent question in his gaze.

YN's eyes, warm and full of affection, met his. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth, and in that moment, it was all the permission Max needed.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the space between them. And then, finally, their lips met.

The kiss was tender at first, a soft exploration. But as YN's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, it deepened into something more passionate. Max poured all of his pent-up emotions into the kiss - his joy, his longing, his hope for what they could be.

When they finally parted, YN's eyes were sparkling. "You know," she said, a playful tone to her voice, "I've been waiting for you to do that all week."

Max couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and happiness bubbling up inside him. "Really? All week, huh?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, her smile widening. "I was starting to think I'd have to make the first move myself."

"Well," Max said, his voice low and teasing, "allow me to make up for lost time."

With that, he pulled her in for another kiss. This one was different from the first - more confident, more passionate. His hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against him as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, the taste of salt on their lips, and the warmth of the setting sun on their skin.

When they broke apart this time, both were slightly dazed. Max rested his forehead against YN's, unwilling to put any distance between them.

"I really like you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I've ever liked anyone before. This week with you… it's been incredible. I don't want it to end."

YN's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. "I really like you too, Max," she replied, her voice equally soft. "These past few days have been like a dream."

Max pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "I know you have to go back, but… I want to make this work. Us, I mean. If that's something you want too."

"I do want that. Very much. It might not be easy with our schedules and the distance, but I think you're worth it."

"We'll figure it out," he said, determination clear in his voice. "I'll come visit you when I can, and you can come to some of my races. We'll make time for video calls, and I'll text you so much you'll get sick of me."

YN laughed, the sound like music to Max's ears. "I don't think I could ever get sick of you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm holding you to that promise about the races. I expect VIP treatment, Mr. Verstappen."

Max grinned, pulling her close again. "For you? Always," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another kiss.

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The month following YN's stay in Monaco had been blissful happiness for both YN and Max. Their parting at the airport had been bittersweet, filled with lingering kisses and tight embraces. They had spent a good hour cuddling in Max's car in the airport parking lot, neither wanting to let go.

"I'm going to miss you so much," YN had whispered, her face buried in the crook of Max's neck.

Max had tightened his arms around her, breathing in her scent. "I'll miss you too. But we'll see each other soon, I promise."

When they finally managed to separate, their goodbye kiss had been passionate and filled with promise. As Max watched her disappear into the airport, he already felt a piece of his heart leaving with her.

In the weeks that followed, they took every opportunity to be together. Max would fly to YN's home during his breaks between races, often arriving exhausted but immediately revitalized by her presence.

Their reunions were always intense, filled with desperate kisses and roaming hands as they made up for lost time. But it was the quiet moments that Max treasured most - waking up with YN in his arms, her sleepy smile the first thing he saw; cooking breakfast together, stealing kisses between flipping pancakes; or simply sitting in comfortable silence, each lost in their own tasks but finding comfort in the other's presence.

Now, as they walked hand in hand through the paddock in Austin for the USA Grand Prix, Max felt a sense of pride and joy unlike anything he'd experienced before. Having YN by his side at a race weekend, this time as more than just a friend, felt right in a way he couldn't fully express.

"This is incredible, Max," YN breathed, squeezing his hand. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

Max grinned, his heart swelling with affection. He loved seeing the paddock through her eyes, rediscovering the magic that he sometimes took for granted.

"Wait until you see the track," he said, pulling her closer. "And the sound when all the cars start up… there's nothing like it."

They paused for a moment, watching as a group of mechanics wheeled a set of tires past them. Max took the opportunity to really look at his girl. She was radiant in the sunlight, her hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling with excitement. He couldn't resist leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

YN turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. "What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss my girl?" Max replied, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. "I suppose not. But maybe save some for later? We are in public, after all."

"You're killing me," Max groaned dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus on racing when you look like that?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," YN teased, patting his chest. "After all, I hear you're quite good at this driving thing."

Their playful banter was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out. "Oi, Verstappen! Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

Max turned to see Daniel approaching, his trademark grin in place. Lando was close behind, an equally mischievous look on his face.

"Hey guys," Max greeted, unconsciously pulling YN closer. "You remember YN, right?"

"Ah yes," Daniel's grin widened. "Nice to see you again, love."

"It's great to see you too, Daniel," she smiled warmly. "And you, Lando."

Lando's eyes darted between Max and YN, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So, Max, finally managed to seal the deal, huh?"

Max felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, YN jumped in.

"Oh, he did more than that," she said, her tone light but with a hint of something that made Max's pulse quicken. "He's been quite… impressive."

Daniel let out a low whistle while Lando burst into laughter. Max couldn't help but join in, marveling at how effortlessly YN fit into his world.

As they chatted, Max couldn't keep his hands off YN. He found himself constantly touching her - a hand on the small of her back, playing with her fingers, rubbing her arm softly. Each touch was like a spark, reminding him of their passionate reunions over the past month.

He thought back to their last meeting, just a week ago. He had flown to her place straight after he was done with some meetings in Monaco, exhausted but desperate to see her. The moment he stepped through her door, all fatigue had vanished. They had barely made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. The memory of her skin against his, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps and moans… it was enough to make him want to whisk her away to his motorhome right now.

Max was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of another familiar face. Charles Leclerc was walking towards them, his trademark charming smile in place.

"Max! Good to see you, man," Charles said, clapping Max on the shoulder before turning his attention to YN. "And who might this lovely lady be?"

Without hesitation, the words tumbled from Max's lips: "This is YN, my girlfriend."

He felt the girl stiffen slightly beside him, and for a moment, panic flared in his chest. Had he overstepped? They hadn't explicitly discussed labels yet. But when he glanced at YN, she was smiling warmly at Charles, her hand still firmly in Max's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," YN said, shaking his hand.

Charles raised an eyebrow at Max, a hint of surprise in his expression. "The pleasure is all mine. I hope you're enjoying your time in the paddock."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they parted ways. Max led YN towards his driver's room. Once inside the relative privacy of the small space, YN turned to him, a playful glint in her eye.

"Girlfriend, huh?" she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something Max couldn't quite identify.

Max felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "I… yeah. I mean, if that's okay? I know we haven't really talked about it, but…"

YN stepped closer, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "It's more than okay, Max. I was just surprised. We've been in this beautiful bubble, and hearing you say it out loud… it made it feel real in a way it hasn't before."

Max let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands found their way to YN's waist, pulling her closer. "It is real," he said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Feels like you're everything."

Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're everything to me too, Max. I love you."

The words hung in the air between them for a moment, both realizing it was the first time either had said it. Then Max surged forward, capturing YN's lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate.

When they broke apart. Max rested his forehead against YN's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.

"I love you too," he whispered. "God, YN, I love you so much."

YN's answering smile was radiant and she pulled him in for another kiss.

"So," he said, his voice husky, "ready to watch your boyfriend win a race?"

YN laughed, the sound filling the small space and Max's heart. "Always," she replied. "My misunderstood hero with a heart of gold."

[onepointsixkm]

Love in 3D

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Pairing: Logan Sargeant x reader. Part of this Mall AU collab with @ham1lton

☆ -idiots in love  | fluff | comedy | smau + written ☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Warnings: A teensy bit suggestive at a few points, Logan and reader have crushes on each other but are super oblivious, mention to Oscar + his love intrest in the series (it's like a multiverse!)

Notes: I took liberties with what films were showing so it doesn't reflect their actual release date or showing time irl. A special thanks to @ham1lton for allowing me to be apart of this, brainstorming with me and beta-ing my work (you're amazing and ily <33 :D).

Summary:When you go to the cinema to watch a film that a friend of yours suggested, the last thing you expected to do was to develop a crush on a certain American worker (or be handed an excuse to come back). Or alternatively, when you keep on going back to the cinema, it's because you're just a massive cinephile...right?

Slight prelude here

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Now when a friend told you to visit the cinema because you just "had to see this new film, it's so...you!" you didn't think much of it. You had avoided looking at reviews for it online and excused the visit as a means to treat yourself, especially with how hard you've been working recently. After taking a short journey into the centre of town, you traverse to the movie theatre. You walk through the towering glass doors and are suddenly enveloped by the comforting atmosphere. The low key, warm lighting bouncing off of the harsh crimson furniture in all directions makes you feel almost at home when paired with the low mumble of families waiting to see films and discussing ones they'd just viewed.

The atmosphere almost makes you feel drowsy so unsurprisingly, you wholeheartedly believe you are living a dream when you walk up to the counter and the most gorgeous man ever stands before you. His green eyes meet yours in a friendly encounter and you give him a quick one over. Your eyes scan from the bottom of his worn out, white trainers to his stained, blue t-shirt (was that butter splotched in the middle?) and even to his long blonde/brownish hair - that clearly hadn't been cut in a while as it swoops over his face, making him look like a prince-.

Somehow, your brain manages to coherently string together a thought that isn't focused on the man in front of you as you ask for "One ticket to see ‘Cats’ please." Yet as soon as the words leave your lips, you're back to daydreaming about the innocent cinema worker behind the counter. You've never seen him before because you're sure you'd have noticed. But then again, you were in the middle of town so of course you don't know everyone. How foolish. You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't even notice him softly asking you a question.

Your eyes widen in horror for a moment. Oh no. What did he say? Eager to only please him, you tilt your head and utter out a timid "Yes?" which sounds as confused as you feel. You glance down at his nametag as a means to hide your confusion and are met by the sight of a neat, embossed ‘Logan' in the centre. However, the answer must have been right because the man’s, Logan you suppose, face splits out into a toothy grin and he mutters a few positive sounding adjectives in response.

“Great. I'll get one ready for you now." He drops to a squat and rummages behind the counter as you furrow your brows. Did you just sign up for something? He pops his head back up from below the counter and you give him a small smile (that feels really quite uncertain with your fate. "Can I get a name for the card, please?" You respond with your name and his soft smile and compliment make your cheeks feel warm. He hands the card to you and you feel your breath catch in your throat at the brief contact of his warm fingers on yours.

"Have a great day and enjoy the film." You turn to mush at his sweet smile and begin to long to see only that sight until your dying day. You utter out a small "You too." and at that moment, you finally regain consciousness and want the ground to suck you up. Logan laughs melodically at your slip up which makes you smile at his laughter. "So sorry. I didn't mean that... I was just distracted!" This causes his laughter to die down as he squints his eyes and one side of his mouth curls up as if he was beginning to smirk. You shoot him a small smile and swiftly pivot and speed for an exit this time with a small "Have a nice day. Thank you."

As you finally reach your seat, you look down at the ticket and card he gave you. Huh? The tickets are much cheaper than you expected. Maybe you'd have to come back again sooner (and you suppose the cute workers aren't any deterrent). You place the ticket on the arm rest and your attention is drawn straight to the card he also placed in your hand. This must be what you unknowingly agreed to. You shake your head, cursing (and praising) your mindless state earlier as you look at the month long cinema pass lying in your hands. Well maybe you would have an excuse to come back soon after all.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logan stares at the man opposite him, gently tapping on the counter. The American had never acutely noticed just how non-existent his love life truly is. Well, until he met you, now he finds that every moment when you weren't blessing his shifts to be dull and in his books, futile.

Oscar's words cut through his thoughts. "Well, I think you can try and make it more obvious? I've heard some people give discounts to the customers they really like. Maybe you can try doing that?" 

Logan looks down and blushes. "I uh... I've already given her a staff discount." Oscar lets out a slow exhale. "Damn... you never-" "Yeah I know." Logan has only just accepted that he has feelings for the Y/H/C girl, let alone broken work policy... Himself a few weeks ago would have gone into cardiac arrest at just the thought.

"Damn, you must be whipped." Oscar's laugh at the end makes Logan break into his own set of laughter. “Well, no…” Oscar reaches for a roll from the floor to ceiling cupboard and pivots with a ‘Hearty Italian’ roll in his hand whilst simultaneously raising an eyebrow at the blonde man, making Logan laugh in resignation. “Yeah, something like that." The Aussie grins at his friend's newfound carefree nature. It has been a long time since Oscar has seen Logan this happy and the two of them have known each other a very long time. Oscar slices the sub as Logan begins his soliloquy.

“But you don't get it, Osc. She’s just… I’ve never seen such a gorgeous woman before . I mean the other day I told her a joke and she actually laughed.” Oscar smiles and mutters “no way” in the same manner in which you’d speak to a child. “And when she laughed I swear it was a taste of what heaven is like!” Oscar hums in acknowledgment as he mindlessly flicks a handful of ham slices onto the bread. “And last week, she bought some popcorn, which I couldn't charge her for of course, but she had both caramel and butter together. I’ve never met anyone else that does that!” Logan releases a dreamy sigh as Oscar opens the large toaster door and slides the roll in.”She’s perfect Osc. I think we were made to be together.” 

"Well," the Aussie begins whilst turning round and getting the sandwich from the toaster. "I say if she comes back then you shoot your shot. I mean who was it that was complaining the other week about their 'truly abysmal love life' ?" Logan looks down and chuckles. "Yeah man I mean it still is that bad but..." Oscar smiles in acknowledgement, he has his own struggling love life and completely understands Logan's dilemma.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

You sigh as you fall back on the sofa. “So let me get this straight. You decided that the best course of action was to just go to his work several several times a week.” You turn and squint your eyes at your best friend's words. “Well no but…” She rolls her eyes at you. “But what Y/N/N? Because it sounds an awful lot like you're just trying to deny your feelings for him but still seeking out his company if it's for a few moments.”

You stay silent as you ponder her words. “I'm just worried about you getting hurt from this. I mean he's probably not even that cute.” You shake your head at her. “Oh no, he really is.” She tilts her head with a questioning look. “It's just… He's so sweet. He always helps the elderly customers and is such a  gentleman. Oh and don't get me started on how good he looks. I mean his eyes are such a gorgeous, enigmatic mix. And Oh those arms. You should see them when they fle-” 

“Oookay. I get it Juliet.” You sigh in longing at just the thought of Logan. “We will put a pin in that for later because there is a lot to unpack there.” You give her a tight-lipped,  thankful grin. “So, moving on, did you hear what happened to Melanie last week?” You try to push the thought of your favourite American to the back of your mind as you focus on the latest gossip of your friend. Besides, lack of boy talk should do you some good for once.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Oscar slides the signature sub across the counter. "Thanks, mate." Logan smiles and unwraps the warm sandwich and takes a bite. Logan groans at the familiar taste. "Damn it's not that wonderful mate." Logan shakes his head at Oscar's words. And looks around quickly, piquing Oscar's interest. The older of the two leans forward and speaks in a hushed whisper. "I came in last week and that new employee made my sandwich...." Logan pulls a face that can only be described as depicting pure, unadulterated disgust. Oscar only laughs in response. "It's not funny mate, I didn't know a sandwich could taste that horrible and I have the simplest thing ever!" Oscar shakes his head and sports a distasteful expression at just the thought of his co-worker. But doesnt make any effort to hide the expression as he begins to speak. "Yeah well, at least you have a good meal now." Logan tilts his head "Yeah I guess so." He glances at the clock and curses. "I'm going to be late! Thanks Osc, catch you later." Logan scrambles out of the food court towards the escalator and Oscar is left in historical laughter at his best friend's frenzied, pining state.

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

When Saturday roles around, you decide that unsurprisingly, you are going to visit the mall you have found yourself frequenting recently. Surprisingly though, you walk through the doors with good, honest intentions today. You have a film in mind that you are desperate to see and you take a small amount of pride in the fact that you are visiting for the cinema’s true purpose rather than going just to ogle the cute American behind the counter. Over the past few weeks, you have seen a multitude of reruns of old, black and white films, only shown a handful of times all the way to new kids films just as an excuse to visit your favourite worker (not that you'd ever admit that of course).

However, as you approach the counter, eyes scanning all of the workers' space, you can’t seem to find Logan. Instead, you are met by the sight of a slightly older, quite attractive, blonde man (that is unsurprisingly very much taken as you gather from the shiny gold band on his weathered hand). As if he notices your wandering eyes, he asks “Anything wrong love?” Your eyes snap to meet his. “Sorry?” He gives you a friendly smile, “You just look quite distracted, that’s all.” You shake your head. “Sorry I just…” the words seem embarrassing now that you think of them. Oh yeah, sorry sir I only visit because I’ve got a massive crush on one of the workers here and I’m just really upset that you aren't him. 

You pull yourself out of your thoughts and address the man - a quick glance down at his name badge informs you that he is Jenson, a senior manager at the cinema. You nearly grin at the sweet badges pinned to his landward, hanging next to the badge; a multitude of film quote badges and oddly a few bakery item pins? How random. You focus your attention back on the man. “Can I have one ticket to go and see ‘Challengers’ please?” Jenson nods and types on the digital keypad in front of him. You reach down and rummage around in your bag to try and find the cinema card (and your payment card of course). When your fingers find the edge of the cards, you pull them out and hold the cards stationary in the air, level with the worker’s screen. “I have this cinema card that you can scan.” Jenson’s eyes widen, he gives you a quick look over before his mouth splits into a toothy grin. “Ah!” is all he says before he gently takes the cards and swipes them one after another in the card slot. 

His expression makes you feel as if you’ve been left out of something important but you don’t have much time to linger on the thought before Jenson is walking away from where he stood with a small promise that he’ll return shortly. You rock backwards on the balls of your feet in suspense, maybe the card didn’t work? You look around, a small part of you is hoping to somehow catch a glimpse of your newfound crush but to no avail. The mechanical sound of tickets being printed breaks you from your scanning of the lobby. Jenson places the tickets and the two cards back in your hand. Yet surprisingly, he also slides a large bag of popcorn in your direction. You give him a questioning glance. Was this yet another thing you’d managed to agree to buy without realising? Jenson only gives you another of those wide smiles before answering “He talks about you a lot. And you're the only one to have bought one of these cards. Well, unless you’re Bertie but you certainly don’t look 80 years old.” 

His words make you blush and huff out a small laugh. You pocket your cards, grab the bag of popcorn and walk away muttering a small thanks. You find your seat, mind whirring over what is left in front of you. On your left armrest is a bag of caramel and butter popcorn, paired with the memory of Jenson’s words. “He spoke about you” Your cheeks warm at the thought of Logan possibly reciprocating your feelings. And then you fully settle into your seat, prepared to finally focus on the screen, you can’t help but notice that the price on the ticket is higher than usual… How odd…

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Meanwhile, Logan's phone:

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logansargeant

Logansargeant: A nice weekend off for once

Liked by Oscarpiatri, Alexalbon and 46 others

View all 12 comments

Oscarpiatri: mate you ditched me for a golf weekend?

↳Logansargeant: Sorry Osc, I just needed to get my thoughts together

↳Osarpiastri: ooh. Is this about **********

↳Logansargeant: Shush mate, you can make it less obvious.

↳Alexalbon: Oooh who or what is  **********?!?🤨

↳Oscarpiastri: 🤐 i’m afraid i’m sworn to secrecy

↳Alexalbon: Booo. You’re no fun

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

For the entirety of the day, Logan has been staring at the door each time it opens. At every worship of the automatic doors on the carpet, his head whips up, hoping to find you there, only to be met with a gaggle of 40 year old women or a party of school children. Logan isn't even afraid to admit the reason behind his peculiar behaviour. He has missed his “staring at Y/N time” as Oscar has so fondly nicknamed it.

After the text he received from Jenson, he can't help but feel a buzz of hope linger in his stomach. He's seen you many times before but the fact that you're coming even when he's not here and possibly looking for him (Jenson's words, not his)? Just the thought makes Logan grin. He already had today planned out in his head. You'd walk through those doors with your regular smile and come up to the counter. You’d then ask to see another random film that was showing at a later point today. He’d flash you a smile and when you’d go to pay, he’d stop you and insist that it was his duty to pay for a woman, especially on the first date. You’d be left in wordless awe and would beg him to let you repay him to which he’d only respond by swooping you into an eager ki-. His daydream is interrupted by soft coughing.

His head whips up only to be met with the familiar shade of your eyes which had plagued his dreams for many nights. You give him a soft smile and all of Logan’s previous “plan” exits his mind as he just gets lost in your eyes. He smiles back at you and lets out a breathy “Hi…” Your grin widens. “Hi Logan, how are you today?” Gosh even you just saying his name makes butterflies erupt in his stomach. He readily answers your question and the two of you fall into eager small talk. 

It almost hurts you to have to pull out of the conversation but you find yourself needing a distraction from the cute Yank on the other side of the counter. “So do you have any new film recommendations today?” Logan lets out a contemplative hum. “None that you haven't already seen.” You visibly deflate at his words. In the past, you have always been very strategic with when you visit and planned trips when there were new films showing.

However today you didn't look as if you were too wrapped up with just the thought of seeing Logan again. “Oh…” You let out an awkward laugh. “Well I guess you've turned me into a cinephile then.” You inwardly slap yourself at your words. Genius. You've all but outed your crush for him, you might as well get on one knee and start spouting sonnets. Logan's cheeks warm and he gains composure before he responds. “Is there, uh, anything else you can do near here? Go to the record store? He'll, my boss, know a killer bakery that he used to work at if you ever want any recommendations!” You almost feel like spilling your guts to Logan and revealing the true intention of your visits. “Well… In all honesty I've never really explored the rest of the mall, I've mainly stuck to the cinema.”

Logan perks up at your words. This could be his chance. He rubs his shiny palms on his trousers and shakily responds. “Well… I could show you around later if you'd like that?” 

You fight the urge to start grinning like a lovesick fool. “I think I'd really quite like that.” Logan's mouth turns into an uncontrollable toothy grin as he laughs in surprise. “Great. Yeah. Amazing. I can't wait!” You giggle at his cute rambling. “What time do you get off?”

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

The two of you sit in content silence. “This was great.” You eagerly nod at the man sitting opposite you as you take another scoop of your plain froyo. “It was truly amazing. Thank you and I hope we can do it again.” He smiles softly at you (despite how often he's done it throughout the evening, you still feel butterflies erupt in your stomach). He replies softly. “I'd love that.” He waves to one of the supervisors (who is involved in a conversation with clearly too much sexual tension with a curly haired man, clearly another supervisor if the badge was anything to look at). She catches Logan's eyeline and nods. After the two of you have paid (Logan insisted that it was his duty to pay) and left the restaurant, you walk around arm in arm with the man with a new found confidence. 

“So where to next time? Is it a bit too on the nose to suggest a movie date next time?” Logan laughs breathily as he pulls you into his side. “Sweetheart, I think you've seen enough films to last you a lifetime.” 

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Jenson watches as his favourite worker leans over the counter with a wide grin on his face. He thinks back to a similar time when him and his partner were also like that. As you quickly lean in to peck Logan's nose, the older man can't help but feel a sense of pride for the man almost like his son and a sense of joy for your blossoming relationship; which very clearly is the best thing for the both of you. 

Logan glances up at the clock every few minutes. His eagerness to clock off makes you giggle. “What's got you so tense?” His face softens. “Sorry. I just really want to take my gorgeous girlfriend to this new shop that's just opened up.” You fight the urge to blush and instead just tilt your head playfully. “Really? What does she look like, maybe I've seen her before.” You glance around and consequently don't notice Logan scrambling over the counter and engulfing you in a large embrace. “Hmmm… I think I've found her.” Your protests get lost in the laughter as the two of you each off, Logan's shift finally at its end.

Jenson watches the two of you exit the building, arm in arm with lovestruck expressions on your faces. Gosh, you were adorable. And gosh he was going to have to do Logan's job and refill the slushy machine…for the third time this week. 

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Yourusername

Yourusername: Guys, I have to finally come out and admit it, this is the “view” I went to the cinema for.

Liked by: Logansargeant, Yourbestfriend, Oscarpiatri and 104 others

View all 18 comments:

Yourbestfriend: 😐Simp😐 Also Logan I am out for your blood

↳Logansargeant: What. Why!?!

↳Yourbestfriend: You took my wife from me😫

↳Logansargeant: My wife now (soon)🙂

↳Yourusername: Awww Lo, Ilysm❤❤

Logansargeant: Who is that handsome man?

↳Yourusername: He has a gf, sorry :/

↳Logansargeant: Is his girlfriend single because she is gorgeous?😍😍😍

↳Yourusername: Depends on who's asking🤨

Alexalbon: Awww! So cute to see you together after Logan spent weekends raving about you

↳Logansargeant: Nuh uh

↳Oscarpiastri: fym nuh uh?

↳Yourusername: Aww Lo. You raved about me?

↳Logansargeant: Of course baby how could I not💙

↳Yourusername: You're adorable

↳Oscarpiastri: 😐🤮

☆-☆-☆-☆-☆

Logansargeant

Logansargeant: Finally made me change my ways (also if you see this and you're Jenson then we aren't breaking any cinema policies and see you on Monday)!!!

Liked by yourusername, Oscarpiatri, Alexalbon and 107 others

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Yourusername: Oh my gosh that photo of us outside the cinema turned out so cute❤❤

↳Logansargeant: Only because you're in it💙

↳Yourusername: Charmer…

↳Logansargeant: What can I say? It's the only thing to do when you have such a gorgeous girlfriend😉

↳Yourusername: Lo stop. I'm actually giggling and blushing rn wtf

Oscarpiatri: is this what you do on company time now

↳Logansargeant: I'm afraid so Osc

↳Oscarpiastri: does this mean you'll put a staff discount on my tickets now, finally

↳Logansargeant: Sorry Osc, I don't think I'm allowed

↳Oscarpiastri: oh but your gf has been getting it since before you even started dating!?!?!

↳Yourusername: Awww Lo, really? That's so sweet (and explains the cheap tickets now)

↳Logansargeant: What can I say babe? I've been whipped from the start

Jensonbutton: I suppose I can Ignore the fact that you had your phone out in the cinema room just this once.

↳Logansargeant: And this is why you ate my favourite boss!

↳Jensonbutton: You only have one boss…

↳Logansargeant: So you truly are the best!

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Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

As always, likes, reblogs and especially feedback is always welcome!

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