#Lando Norris hurt/comfort

[gogoconvstore]

headcanons of lando with a partner who struggles with emotions ? like his partner is pretty numb and it takes a lot for them to express happiness or sadness etcetc.

again, no pressure, heavy topic !

-bear anon

LANDO NORRIS AND "NUMB" READER HEADCANNONS

He knew you struggled to show emotions for a long time but he never really understood it

When he asked you he got really nervous because you stared at him with a completely straight face and said yes without much emotion

He knows how you are so now that you two are actually dating he's not as afraid of what's going on inside your head

You can still catch him off guard sometimes

Like when he won his first race you hugged him when he got home and he was gob smacked

And the first time you were outside the club he and his friends frequented without him having to drunkenly call you or get his friend to do it he was so inlove

He found you crying one night when he came home early from a race to surprise you

He was absolutely heartbroken and held you in his arms tighter than usual and whispered sweet nothings into your ear

In the end he knows you're not always gonna be the most expressive but he still really loves you.

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Please, I Need You

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of Suicide, Mentions of cutting, attempted suicide

A/N: If you can relate to this fic or feel like this please message me, my DMs and Inbox are open.

The spotlight had always been something I avoided. I liked my privacy, cherished the simple moments with my friends and family, and drew strength from the quiet, familiar spaces that made me feel safe. But when I started dating Lando Norris, all of that changed.

Overnight, I went from being a nobody to having millions of eyes on me, every move scrutinized, every word dissected.

At first, it was overwhelming but manageable. The praise from Lando's fans was a wave of positivity that buoyed me up. They celebrated our relationship, showering me with love and admiration that I had never experienced before. But lurking beneath the surface were the negative comments, the hate from those who claimed to be Lando's true fans. Their words cut deep, exacerbating insecurities I had carried long before l met him.

"You don't deserve Lando."

"You're just using him for fame."

"Lando's mine, and he'll never love you."

Each comment was a dagger, but none hurt more than the one that dredged up my most painful memory: "Go kill yourself like your twin sister did. Lando's mine, and he'll never love you."

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt like I was drowning. My twin sister, Emily, had taken her own life years ago after relentless bullying. I had always blamed myself for not being able to save her. The pain of her loss was a wound that never fully healed, and now, this cruel comment tore it wide open.

I stumbled to the bathroom, my vision blurred by tears. Locking the door behind me, I collapsed onto blade in the cabinet and held it in my trembling hands. My heart pounded as I pressed the sharp edge against my wrist, closing my eyes against the onslaught of memories and emotions.

"Lando," | whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

In the living room, Lando was scrolling through his phone, a strange feeling of unease settling in his gut. He got up and walked towards the bathroom, knocking softly on the door. When there was no response, he pushed it open and froze.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of fear and desperation. "What are you doing? Please, put the razor down."

I looked up, my eyes filled with pain

and confusion. "Lando, I can't... I just can't do this anymore."

Lando took a step closer, his hands raised in a calming gesture. "Please, just talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

As he inched closer, I lowered the razor slightly, the sharp edge still pressed against my skin. "I can't... I couldn't save her, Lando. My twin sister... she was bullied, and I couldn't save her."

Lando's face crumpled in anguish.

"Y/N, I had no idea. I'm so sorry."

Tears streamed down my face as I continued, "Someone found out and told me to kill myself like she did.

They said you'd never love me."

Lando's eyes filled with tears as he reached out to me. "Y/N, I love you more than anything. Those people aren't real fans. Real fans would be happy for us, not tearing you down."

My grip on the razor weakened, and I finally let it drop to the floor. Lando rushed forward, wrapping me in his arms. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this together."

In the days that followed, Lando helped me find the professional help I desperately needed. He stayed by my side, offering constant love and support. But he knew he had to do more.

One evening, I watched as Lando went live on Instagram. His face was a mix of anger and heartbreak as he addressed his followers.

"I've always considered my fans to be part of my family," he began, his voice shaking. "But today, I'm disappointed and heartbroken.

Someone out there thought it was okay to tell my girlfriend to kill herself because of her past. That is not okay."

He paused, tears welling up in his eyes. "Y/N tried to take her life because of those hateful words.

She's getting the help she needs now, but I won't stand for this. If you truly care about me, you'll support her and stop the hate. To the person who made that disgusting comment, I will be taking legal action. No one should ever go through what Y/N has."

Lando's outpouring of emotion resonated with his fans, and messages of support flooded in for me. The community rallied around us, showing the love and kindness I so desperately needed.

But despite the outpouring of support, the darkness still lingered.

Nights were the hardest. I often woke up in a cold sweat, the haunting memories of Emily's last moments replaying in my mind. I remembered her smile, the way she would light up a room, and the sound of her laughter. I remembered the day I found her, the lifelessness in her eyes, and the crushing realization that I had lost her forever.

Lando never left my side during those sleepless nights. He held me close, whispering words of love and reassurance, his presence a constant reminder that I wasn't alone. He made sure I attended every therapy session, even if it meant rearranging his busy schedule. He was my rock, my anchor in the storm.

One particularly bad night, I found myself unable to breathe, the weight of my guilt suffocating me. I sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands, tears streaming down my face.

"Lando, I don't know if I can do this," I choked out. "I miss her so much. I should have saved her."

Lando knelt in front of me, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "Y/N, you can't blame yourself for what happened to Emily. You did everything you could. She wouldn't want you to carry this guilt."

"But I feel so lost without her," | whispered, my voice breaking.

Lando took my hands in his, his grip firm yet gentle. "You're not alone, Y/

N. You have me, and you have so many people who love you. We'll get through this together, I promise."

Through the darkness, there were moments of light. Slowly, I began to heal, finding strength in Lando's unwavering support and the kindness of those around us. I learned to forgive myself, to let go of the guilt that had weighed me down for so long.

One day, as I sat in a quiet park, the sun warming my face, I realized that I could finally breathe again. The pain of losing Emily would never fully disappear, but I had found a way to live with it. I had found a way to honor her memory by choosing to live, by choosing to love and be loved.

And as Lando wrapped his arms around me, whispering words of love and reassurance, I knew that we would face whatever came our way, together.

---------

Again, if you feel this way, please reach out.

Taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

[vroomvro0mferrari]

LN4 | Happy Anniversary!

Summary: When Lando forgets the date of your anniversary, you can get over it. However, the pressure of his job isn’t a good enough reason to excuse all of his forgetful tendencies and lack of attention for you.

Based on this request!

Lando Norris x fem!Reader, established relationship

WC: 4.8K

Warnings: cursing, angsty, sad fic with happy ending

Masterlist

The soft morning sunlight peeks through the curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft rosy glow over the room. You take a deep breath, a gentle smile settling on your face at the realisation that it’s already been a year – a year of being loved, of sharing every thought and story, of new experiences and memories... One year of being married to the love of your life. It’s hard to believe.

You turn on your side to face your husband, propping your head on your palm as you watch him sleep peacefully. Your hand is softly stroking his chest while you smile with adoration. “Good morning, baby,” you say when you notice the change in his breathing.

Lando merely grumbles, not quite awake yet. Nevertheless, he pulls you closer to his side, letting you cuddle up against his warm body. Pressing your face against his chest, you leave a few kisses along the bare skin.

Lando sighs, stretching out his body. “Good morning, darling,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile excitedly, sitting up to look at the handsome man you get to call your husband.

“Do you know what day it is?” You whisper.

Lando frowns as he wipes his tired eyes, “What day?” 

The confusion is evident in his voice. Regardless, you nod excitedly. Your smile falters as you watch the wheels turning in his head, gathering that he doesn’t remember. You move to the bedside table, rumbling through the drawer until you find what you’re searching for.

The expression on Lando’s face changes from confusion to guilt when you proudly show the present you’ve wrapped up so neatly, the realisation settling in. “Fuck. It’s our anniversary today, isn’t it?”

You nod, “I got you a little something, to celebrate,” you clarify. The smile on your face is gentle, comforting, and it nearly makes Lando believe you don’t care that he forgot.

“Oh, baby, I’m really sorry. I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary. God, that’s bad, isn’t it? The first year, and I’ve already screwed it up. I’m so sorry, love. Fuck.” Lando rubs a hand over his face, his expression pained.

“It’s okay, Lan. I know you’ve been busy,” you reassure him, “besides, it’s only the first year, we’ll have many more anniversaries.” You offer your gift again. “Just open the present, please? I want to know what you think of it!” You say enthusiastically.

Lando’s not fully convinced yet, “But I haven’t got anything for you,” he protests.

“Doesn’t matter, I already got this for you. Open, please!”

Lando sighs, but doesn’t resist further. However, the guilt of his forgetfulness settles deeper when he opens the carefully wrapped gift. You had taken the time and effort to make something, rather than buy a present, and he couldn’t even bother to remember your first wedding anniversary. He felt like an asshole.

At his silence, you felt the need to explain, “It’s a jar of notes,” you take the jar from his hands and open it. “It’s got different things: my favourite memories of us, things I love about you, what reminds me of you, just whatever I could think of. Then, when you’re gone for work, you can pull one out whenever you miss me,” you demonstrate, grabbing a note from the full jar, “or you could just call me, or whatever.” You put the piece of paper back, close the jar, and look up to your husband.

“Do you like it?”

Lando smiles lovingly, “I love it! Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says before kissing you softly.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get you anything. I swear I’ll make it up to you. In fact, I’ll make a reservation for tonight right now, we can go out to dinner together to celebrate, and if you want we can go shopping today too, I’ll buy you anything you want—” 

You cut him off with a laugh. “That’s not necessary, Lan. I know you love me. Besides, I’d much prefer to spend today at home with you, while you’re still here,” you say, stroking his face fondly before you pull him in for a kiss.

Regardless of your objections, Lando still manages to make a reservation for tonight at your favourite restaurant. He doesn’t make a single comment when you order the salmon despite his dislike for fish, and for weeks after he anticipates every single need you might have before you can utter even a syllable. He brings you the snacks he knows you love most on his way home, makes homecooked meals for you (however bad at cooking he is – he switched to take away after the first two times), and watches your favourite shows with you even though he hates them. He does anything and everything he can think of to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Unfortunately, his efforts only lasted a few weeks. Now, you knew what you were getting into when you married Lando last year. You had been in a relationship with him for several years before the wedding, so you are well aware of the time he needs to put into his work, even outside of office hours, not to mention the amount of stress and anxiety that come with racing at such a high level. That’s why it doesn’t bother you that much that your husband forgot about your anniversary; you know the pressure he’s under.

However, lately, his work has become even more time-consuming, more stressful and he’s become less attentive. It’s no surprise with how well the last races have been going – Lando’s finishing on the podium every weekend – that pressures have increased. He’s no longer fighting for only the constructor’s championship, but he has an actual chance at the driver’s championship too. The team is excited, and working hard, and the same is expected of Lando. Additionally, the fans have been putting more pressure. You know how much Lando’s affected by the stress of it all; he doesn’t want to disappoint, and now that the car’s performing, the only factor that could cause a loss, is him. The pressure, stress, and anxiety are taking over his body. He’s becoming more forgetful and instead of spending his free time with you, his wife, he’s thinking about the next race’s strategy, working out to improve his performance, or practising the tracks. Formula 1 had taken over the number one spot in his life.

You get where he’s coming from, you really do, but one of the most important things, if not the most important thing, in a relationship is communication and recently, Lando wasn’t communicating with you. He doesn’t tell you about the pressure or anxiety, all you know is from reading the man. After the number of years you’d spent together, you know him well enough to be aware of his struggles without him having to tell you.

You’d address the issue, ask him to talk to you, but you don’t when. Lando’s gone so much that you barely see him. His early mornings and early nights don’t align with your schedule; Lando’s gone before you’re properly up and has already eaten when you get home from work. The both of you have always been busy before, but at least you’d always eat together, and talk about your day. Now that those moments are missing, you feel lonely.

Lando has no clue of the things running through your mind. After all, you never told him. Even during the summer break, you keep quiet about your feelings, not wanting it to affect Lando’s performance during the races when you know how hard he's working to do well. Besides, it does get better during the break; Lando’s home more often and his mind's not as occupied with thoughts about his work. Nevertheless, he’s gone most of the time. You had expected for Lando to spend his time off with you, but instead, he hangs out with his friends.

Although the break has positively affected his behaviour, Lando's forgetfulness remains the same. You had told him about your friend’s birthday party several times during the past weeks, asking him to come along. When he promised you would, you thought things were finally going back to normal. But now, as you are waiting for your husband to come home so you can leave for the party together, you realise nothing has changed.

It’s already quarter past eight. Fifteen minutes later than you had said you would leave. You are ready to go – makeup glowing, favourite dress on, present wrapped and purse checked – when you decide you won’t wait any longer. You had given Lando plenty of chances to show his care for you and to consider you in his plans. You always visited his friends with him when he wanted you to, and he couldn’t show up for one party you asked him to come to? You leave the house, no messages sent and your phone on do-not-disturb: let him worry.

You plaster a fake smile on your face when you arrive to your friend’s house, pulling her into a hug when she opens the door. 

“Hey, girl! Happy birthday!” You say in a high-pitched voice. “I can’t believe you’re finally 25!” You continue, squeezing her tight.

“Thanks, babe,” she responds when you let each other go, looking over your shoulder. “Where’s Lando? Parking the car?”

“Uh, no, actually. He couldn’t come.” The awkward smile on your face says enough, she knows not to ask any further.

“Oh, okay. That’s too bad. I would have loved to see him. You know, congratulate him on his podiums, it’s been going well lately, no?” She walks you into the house as she speaks, turning her head to watch your reaction.

“Yeah, the team’s really improved.” Once again, the tight smile on your face is clear.

A frown forms on her face at your reaction and she’s about to ask further, whether everything is okay, when she’s interrupted.

“Hey, Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a while! How are you? You never come to the races anymore,” Carlos tells you with a fake pout.

You look at him in surprise. You always forget that everyone in Monaco knows each other. Carlos and your friend met at the golf club and had somehow become good friends. Usually, you liked seeing him, but tonight you would’ve preferred not to see him. Not because you don’t enjoy his company, but simply because you’d rather not talk about Lando, whom he’ll undoubtedly ask about.

And so, your mask shoots up when he pulls you into a hug. “Hey, Carlos. I’m good. How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve been doing well. You heard the news? That I’m going to Williams next year?” You nod, saying a quick “Of course, congrats!” Naturally, you heard the news; everyone had. But this conversation was already heading in the wrong direction. “Yes, glad to have found a place that will appreciate me, even if the team’s not doing the best right now. Talking about the best, Lando’s been doing so well. You must be proud of him, hm?” 

“Ah, yes, of course,” you say indifferently.

Carlos frowns at your reaction. “Everything good between you two?”

Your smile drops, apparently, you aren’t as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. “Yeah, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

Carlos shrugs, “Just the way you react, is all. You seem kind of tense…”

You sigh, letting a silence fall for a few seconds. You might as well tell him, he’ll figure it out eventually. “You’re right. Things… haven’t been so great lately.”

Carlos frowns at your comment. “Between you and Lando, you mean? He didn’t say anything was up, he seemed fine the last time I spoke to him,” he says confusedly.

You roll your eyes at the suggestion, “I’m not surprised. He seems to be clueless to what’s been going on.”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink, “Have you talked to him about it?”

“That’s the issue. Lando’s never home, we barely speak anymore. He’s been so stressed with work that nearly all his free time is dedicated to racing. He gets up early and goes to bed before I’ve even had dinner. I’ve had no chance to talk to him.”

The frown deepens, and he breathes out a puff of air. “That’s tough.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this on you.”

“No, it’s fine don’t worry about it. Sometimes you need to get it off your chest.”

You look up at Carlos, hesitating to continue your story.

“Has the break not changed anything?” He pokes further.

Another sigh. “No, not really. Lando’s using his time off to catch up with his friends. And his forgetfulness has clearly not improved either.” 

“His forgetfulness?”

“Yeah, he forgot about the party, clearly.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes again.

“What else did he forget about?” Carlos asks with a frown.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” you hesitate, “but he forgot our anniversary. I told him it’s not a big deal, which it isn’t, but it’s just that everything is adding up. I feel kind of alone in the relationship at the moment, like he doesn’t really care about me anymore. How can I think otherwise, when we barely see each other, let alone speak?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That really sucks.” 

You smile sadly, as if to say ‘it is what it is’.

“It’ll work out in the end,” you tell him. You hope. “Maybe tonight he’ll realise he forgot something important, again. Maybe that’ll make a difference.” You offer an awkward smile.

Carlos breathes in deeply, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get your mind off it, huh?” he says while directing you towards the fridge.

You nod, follow him, and accept the drink he offers you. Tonight is not about Lando, it’s about your best friend and the fact she turned 25. You are not thinking about your husband until you get home.

– – – – – 

You slam the front door of your shared apartment louder than necessary when you enter. Nevertheless, there’s no reaction when you enter the dark apartment. You switch the lights on, noticing Lando isn’t in the living room or kitchen. Did he really go to sleep not knowing where you were or who you were with? Whether you were safe or not? Lando obviously didn’t remember the birthday party or he would’ve come, yet he didn’t text you to ask you where you were? Does he truly care so little about you? Does he even love you anymore? It feels like a punch to the gut – like someone had ripped your heart out. 

The man had been basically avoiding you for weeks, barely saying a word at the moments you did see him, but at least he was still awake to see if you arrived okay. Now he doesn't even stay up to check if you get home safely anymore? Or text you to ask where you are? To say you are upset is an understatement, you feel angry and neglected at his disregard. You feel lonely instead of beloved. The lump in your throat is a painful reminder of how close you are to crying. But you don’t. 

You swallow the lump, blink a few times to get rid of the lingering tears in your eyes and go into the bedroom to take off your makeup. You lean on the counter, sniffling silently, and close your eyes. You breathe in through your nose deeply, before breathing out through your mouth. It’ll be okay. Right? 

When you enter the bedroom you stare for a minute at the man sleeping peacefully before you. It feels wrong when you climb into bed next to him, nevertheless, you do it. It’ll probably take you a while to fall asleep tonight. 

– – – – –

The situation hasn’t changed a bit when the racing season starts back up again. No matter how strained your relationship has become, you do want to say goodbye to Lando before he leaves for the next race. So, the morning he’s supposed to fly, you make sure to get up extra early. You don’t know how, but he still somehow manages to finish his breakfast before you’re even out of bed, the container already in the trash.

“Good morning,” you mumble, wiping your eyes as they adjust to the bright light in the kitchen.

Lando looks up from his phone in surprise, clearly not expecting to see you awake this early. “Hey, what are you doing up?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” you say as you walk closer to the kitchen island at which he’s sitting.

“There’s no need for that, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon enough.” The smile on his face is sickeningly sweet, a clear contrast to the words coming out of his mouth.

You frown, “You’re leaving for a week… What do you mean, there’s no need?”

Lando sighs at your question, “Never mind, it’s kind of you to get up extra early just for me,” he smiles dismissively before getting up from his seat. “It’s time for me to go,” he says looking at his watch before grabbing his backpack and suitcase which are sitting by the door, “I’ll see you in a week.”

You’re left staring in surprise as the door slams closed. He didn’t kiss you goodbye. He always did that, even during the worst of fights. That’s your rule. Formula 1 is a dangerous sport, he could be hurt in a split second, never mind being killed. From the start of your relationship, he always kissed you before he left, just in case. You hated the thought at the start, but learned to think it was sweet; that, in case something happened, at least he kissed his girl goodbye.

You’re watching your marriage crumble before your eyes, and Lando doesn’t seem to have a clue, or pretends not to notice. This is it, you decide. This cannot go any further. As soon as he gets home, you will talk to Lando, no matter how badly it will affect his race. You can’t do this any longer.

However, somebody else is already one step ahead of you. Carlos had noticed the toll your strained marriage with Lando was taking on you, and couldn’t help confronting Lando the first second he saw him. It didn’t help either that Charles was way too curious about the relationship drama. He had been pushing Carlos to find out more to save his gossip-desperate soul after the radio silence during the break.

“Hey, Lando!” Carlos yells, jogging up to Lando and matching his pace.

“Hey, man! How are you doing? Had a nice break?” Lando asks, giving Carlos a quick hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I had fun. What about you?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. It was good to get some time off. I really needed it; finally got to see my friends again,” Lando grins while Carlos raises an eyebrow at the answer.

“What about your wife? Finally got to spend some time with her now that you didn’t have to travel so much?” Carlos asks.

Lando laughs awkwardly at his suggestive question, “You know it!”

Carlos ignores the casual response. “I actually saw Y/N last week, at a friend’s birthday party. Was surprised to see you didn’t come with her…”

A frown etches onto Lando’s face. “What birthday party?”

“I think she’s one of Y/N’s best friends, she turned 25?”

Lando’s eyes widen in realisation. “Fuck, yes, I remember now.”

“She told you about it?” Carlos asks, watching as Lando’s expression shifts from realisation to discomfort.

“Yeah… She mentioned it a couple of times,” he admits. “She didn’t tell me that she went...” 

Carlos lets him ponder it for a moment before adding, “Well, she was there. We talked for a bit, actually.”

Lando feels his stomach tighten. He tilts his head slightly. “What did she say?”

Carlos hesitates, glancing around the paddock while he weighs his options. “Uhm, she said you’ve been distant lately. That you haven’t been paying much attention to her, that you missed your anniversary…”

Lando stops walking. “She told you about that?”

“Yeah, man.” Carlos sighs. “Look, she didn’t go into too much detail, but… she sounded upset. Maybe you should make some time for her, take her out on a date or something. It seems like she feels pretty lonely.” 

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his heart sinks in his chest. “Lonely?” The word echoes in his mind, unsettling him. He knows the feeling all too well. He’s the reason his wife has been feeling lonely? The guilt settles deep within his soul as he mulls it over. He tries to laugh it off, but it feels hollow. “She knows how demanding the season has been. I’ve been swamped.”

“I’m sure she does, but… it’s more than that. She told me she feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.” The look on his face is serious as he says it.

Lando blinks, the weight of Carlos’ words sinking in. How could he have missed something so crucial? Why hadn’t Y/N said anything? More importantly, why hadn’t he noticed?”

“She thinks I don’t care about her?” He mutters to himself. His gaze is unfocused as he chews his lip, running a hand over his face out of frustration. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He says quietly.

“There was no opportunity to tell you, she said. You're never home.”

Carlos lets out another sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t want your marriage to be ruined. I know you love Y/N to pieces. I would be upset with myself if you guys don’t make it out together knowing I could have done something about it. That being said, I think you should talk to her.”

Lando nods absentmindedly. He didn't even consider that they might not make it out okay. “You’re right. Thanks for telling me, man.” 

As Carlos walks away, Lando is left standing there, his mind working overtime. He had been busy, yes, but surely you understood that, right? He’d been working so hard for the both of you, to secure a future for you. But… had he been neglecting you without even realising it?

The conversation with Carlos continues to replay in his head throughout the day. Maybe he hadn’t been as attentive as he thought. Maybe all those nights out with friends, all those early mornings spent focused on racing had a bigger effect than he assumed. He tries to push the thoughts away, to justify it with the pressure of the season, but it doesn’t sit right anymore.

The rest of the weekend Carlos’ words echo through his head, ‘She feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.’ Lando can barely concentrate with the guilt that’s gnawing at his conscious. 

– – – – – 

By the time Lando leaves his hotel, he has formed a plan. He has rehearsed a dozen different apologies in his head. He’ll explain what happened, that he’s been so busy with work that he didn’t notice, and he’ll say sorry and change his behaviour. And after that, all will be well.

His plan is thrown out the window as soon as he gets home and sees his wife sitting on the couch, your face pale and tired as you watch TV. The state of you makes the practised words dry on his tongue. How could he not have noticed what was happening? 

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt lonely?” 

You look up in surprise at the abrupt question cutting through the silence. No ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’, no ‘I missed you, baby’, just the sharp edge of confrontation.

“What?”

“Carlos told me you’ve been feeling lonely. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown at his directness, “When was I supposed to do that, Lando? You’re always gone.”

“That’s not true—” he tries to protest, but you cut him off.

“There was not one moment I could have told you, Lando! You’re always busy with work and when you’re not, your friends take up all your free time! You haven’t made any time for me in weeks, months even!” You yell.

Tears well up in your eyes at the confrontation. You had kept your frustrations to yourself for weeks and now that he finds out about your feelings he decides to yell at you for it. How else are you expected to react?

Your words hit Lando hard, each one landing like a punch. His eyes flicker with guilt. “I’ve been under so much pressure. The team needs me—this season could be my best chance at a championship, and I—”

You cut him off, your voice soft. “I know, Lando. I know how important your career is and that this is your chance, but that doesn’t mean all your time should be spent on racing. You’ve no time left for me anymore; all your energy is drained when I finally see you at the end of the day.”

“I can’t help that my job is demanding! You know that, Y/N. You’ve always known that. It takes a lot of time to improve, and the team is finally performing. It’s my chance at a championship! I can’t pass that up!”

“I get that Lando, I really do. But I’ve felt alone in this relationship for months now. I never see you, we never talk… The night of the party you didn’t even text me to ask where I was, or who I was with. You were already sleeping before I got home! Weren’t you worried at all? Or even curious to know where I was, whether I was safe? Sometimes… Sometimes, I doubt whether you still care about me – whether you still love me, because it feels like you don’t.” The tears slowly fall down your face while you say it.

That’s when it hits him – truly hits him. Lando swears he could hear his heart break. He looks at you in shock, and you can’t deny you feel a little better because of it. Had he really fucked up that bad? Do you really believe he no longer loves you, or cares about you? You are the most important person in his life. How could this have gone so far without him noticing? How could he have made the love of his life feel like she wasn’t loved? He runs a hand through his hair in distress, trying to wrap his head around your admission.

“I’ve been patient, Lando. I’ve been understanding, but you’re just never present. Not just physically, but mentally, too. I miss you.”

Lando looks at you sadly from across the room, disappointed in himself. He quickly closes the distance, reaching for your hand. His voice is soft when he speaks to you. “I do. I do love you, Y/N,” he says, caressing your face softly, pulling your chin up so your eyes meet, his teary eyes staring into your red ones. “You’re the love of my life. I care about you so much. You’re the most important to me, above anything else, and you always will be. Don’t forget that, okay? Promise me you’ll never forget that, baby.”

You sniffle, wiping away the tears that are slowly making their way down to your chin, while you nod. The sound physically pains him, his heart twisting torturously in his chest. He vows to never make you cry again.

“I’m so sorry I let it come this far, darling. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything, trying to win, trying to be perfect for the team that I didn’t see what I was losing in the process.” 

You interrupt him, “I don’t need perfect, Lando. I just need you to be here. With me. Because if it keeps going like this… I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

Her words hang between them, and for the first time in weeks, Lando realises the gravity of what he stands to lose if he doesn’t make a change soon. He nods frantically. “Of course, baby. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. You say the word, and I’ll do it. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t love you, because I do. So much. I can’t lose you, I don’t ever want to come this close to losing you ever again.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go; like you’ll walk away from him as soon as he does. You press your face into his chest, missing the feeling of him against you and his comforting scent. The last time he touched you, let alone hugged you feels like ages ago. 

“I’ll be better, I’ll make time for you, I promise,” he mumbles, his mouth grazing over your hair, as he tugs you impossibly closer into his tight embrace.

You smile faintly through your tears. “I believe you.”

[maxtermind]

Can I request some more angst 🫠🫠 I’m a sucker for your sad fics

tell me, why'd you have to hit-and-run me?

★ : summary :: finding out your boyfriend was dared to date you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: ANGST; no hea ★ : word count :: 4k+ ★ : a/n :: how are we feeling with the daily posts ending tom and shifting to alternate day posting🤭 babe you asked for angst and i delivered, lmk how you like it <3 bet y'all thought you needed tissues for something else😏

Max Verstappen

“Mate, you still haven’t told her?” you heard Lando whisper, making your eyebrows shoot up. What were they talking about? As you finally decided to approach your boyfriend and his friend, you heard Max whisper.

It was low, so low that you almost didn’t catch it, but the way your hand froze on the knob and the utter stillness of your heartbeat indicated that you heard him loud and clear when he slowly said, “I don’t know how to.”

That. That was the reason you froze. You were processing what you heard. Your heart pulled from its rightful place—no, it was ripped out.

God, you thought, anything but that. Anything but cheating because how could you even confront him if he confessed to cheating on you right there on the spot in front of one of his friends?

“It has been going on for too long, Max.” Lando took a deep breath. “You should tell her you love her; she’ll understand.”

Ah. Okay, he loves you; this was okay. But then why was your heart still beating so loudly that you could hear it in your ears?

“How do you think I should go about it?” Max asked, and that was when you finally had enough. You turned the knob, but Lando was already speaking, and his words had you freeze again.

The boys' heads snapped up, eyes wide when they saw you walk in. You felt your eyes burn as Lando’s last words finally processed.

“You should’ve thought about it before you decided to make a stupid bet with those dumb men.”

“Bet?” you wondered aloud as you saw Max stumble over to you. What bet?

“No bet!” you heard your panicked boyfriend almost scream. You were so confused you didn’t even know what you were saying out loud.

“For fuck’s sake,” Lando said as he stood from the couch, glaring at Max. “Y/N deserves to know.” You kept your eyes on Max, trying to gauge an explanation from his clearly messed-up state.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” you finally looked at your boyfriend’s best friend. “I clearly shouldn’t have trusted Max to—”

“I think you should leave,” Max groaned out as if it pained him to hear Lando talk, almost hissing out the last word. They started bickering back and forth, and through your hazy mind, you could only make out a few words.

But they were enough. You took a deep breath as you stepped away from Max towards the door. He was too busy focusing on Lando anyway.

“Y.. you’re saying I was a bet?” Your voice cut through the chaos, and it was Max’s turn to go dead silent and freeze on the spot.

“You asked me ou—” Oh god, you didn’t want to cry, “—because of a dare?”

Max’s eyes were wide with horror, his face pale as he took a step toward you, his hands reaching out in desperation. “No, Y/N, it’s not like that, please, let me explain.”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably. “Explain what, Max?” Your voice cracked on the last word, the pain too raw to hold back when you saw Max was also crying. “How a…all i have be— this relationship has been is a fucking lie?” The moment you said it out loud, you heard Lando take in a sharp breath. Max looked disheveled, he could just tell that this was the only time he could repair this. You looked a minute away from walking out and the thought of that had him talking even through his closed up throat.

His voice broke, choked with emotion. “No, Y/N, I swear, it wasn’t like that. It started as a stupid dare, yes, but then... then I fell in love with you. I fell so hard, it—” His words stumbled over each other, barely coherent through his tears. “I called the whole thing off.”

You cut him off, your voice trembling and thick with hurt. “You should have told me right then. As soon as you called it off, you sho—” Your body shook, barely able to stand under the weight of your heartbreak. “How could you do this to m.. me?”

Max rushed forward to hold your hands, breathing heavily to get himself under control so he could talk as he sobbed. “I was so fucking scared, Y/N. I didn’t want to lose you. You mean everything to me.”

You looked down at your joined hands, feeling your heart shatter all over again. It was one thing to know someone’s apology was sincere and another to know that they had faked being sincere from the very beginning. So how could you even tell the difference now? Your voice came out in a broken whisper. “How can I trust you now? How can I believe anything you say?” You were almost gasping for breath, each word an effort as you tried to hold back the sobs wracking your body.

Lando’s voice was soft but firm from behind you, though his own eyes were hard. “He’s telling the truth, Y/N. He was an idiot, but he’s been head over heels for you for a long time.”

Max’s tear-streaked face looked up at you, his eyes pleading. “Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Anything. Just... don’t leave me.” His voice broke, the last word coming out as a wail of despair.

You turned away, unable to bear the sight of him, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with raw agony. “I can’t be here.” You could barely see through your tears, your entire body trembling.

Max’s anguished sobs followed you as you walked away, your heart feeling like it was being torn from your chest with every step. The pain was unbearable, and you stumbled, nearly collapsing under the weight of your sorrow but Lando caught you as he held you by your shoulders.

You needed to be alone, to process everything, and to decide if love could truly overcome betrayal. But right now, it felt like your world was ending.

Lewis Hamilton

“Y/N, baby please—”

Lewis’s voice pleaded as you shut the door behind, your heart splintering into a thousand pieces. Tears blurred your vision as you staggered away from your apartment, the weight of betrayal crushing your chest.

To think that you used to gush about him, about this, the vague lie you had to others. Not even a few steps away from your apartment, you were bent over, retching into a nearby dustbin.

How could luck be so cruel? How could you have been so blind?

You wandered the streets, tears falling down your cheeks as your brain replayed the moments when Lewis first approached you at a random club party, despite your friends warning you that someone like him must have nefarious reasons. But you were smitten.

“I’m sorry, but I don't know what you’re doing here,” you had said to him, feeling your heart beat faster when a smirk adorned his face in return. He looked majestic under the club lights. “Where else would I be?” he muttered, mesmerized as he looked at you, “If not with the most beautiful girl in this club?”

He made you feel special, validated in a way you had never felt before. Now, the memory turned sour in your mind, leaving you feeling sick and disgusted. You dry heaved again.

At least he had the decency to confess. Standing here in the cold, his words from when he sat you down with him echoed in your ears— his pleading, his apologies, his desperate attempts to explain. But what did it matter now?

“How could you?” you whispered, thump! thump! thump! your heart pumped as you heard it in your ears, your voice barely audible through the tears streaming down your cheeks. “Was I just a game to you?” That was the first thing you said after his almost ten-minute rant.

You had stopped listening though, right when he had told you what exactly made him approach you. Your first meeting was so magical, so precious to you, but it was all ruined now.

His friend had dared him because Lewis’ morale was down. He was having the worst day of his life after losing an almost sure race win, and his friends knew the only way to cheer him up was through a challenge.

Lewis reached out when he saw that you were lost in your thoughts, his voice desperate and shaky. “No, Y/N, please listen to me—”

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Don’t. Just don’t…”

“Please,” he pleaded, looking nothing like the man you loved, his voice cracking with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I messed up, but I love you more than anything.”

You felt your heart breaking all over again because you genuinely couldn’t recognize the man standing in front of you— the man who had played you, was probably still playing you. “You should have thought about that before…”

Unable to bear another moment, you left, leaving his words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. You were nothing more than a pawn in his game of masculine pride and insecurity. The realization hit you like a freight train, leaving you gasping for air as you collapsed against a nearby wall, sobs wracking your body.

How could someone who once made you feel so alive now leave you feeling so broken?

Carlos Sainz

The evening was warm, and the restaurant buzzed with laughter and conversation. You sat with your boyfriend, Carlos, his friends, and a few of your own. It was a casual dinner, the kind you rarely held since Carlos was so busy.

“I can't believe we wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t dared Carlos to ask you out,” Javier chuckled as he saw you lean forward to kiss your boyfriend.

Laughter erupted around the table but quickly died down when they realized the utter horror on your face. An uncomfortable silence settled in, and you noticed the tension.

Your wide eyes moved from one face to another, finally landing on Carlos, whose expression had turned serious. He glared at Javier, and you sensed something was wrong. You felt uncomfortable, and the need to flee clutched you.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice small yet cutting through the awkwardness as you held Carlos’ hand under the table. He squeezed it in return.

“Uh, nothing,” Javier stammered, realizing his mistake. His discomfort was evident, triggering your fight-or-flight response.

You turned to Carlos. “What’s going on?” Your voice held a very tiny hope, hoping this was all a prank that would be over soon.

He sighed as he squeezed your hand again, his frustration evident. “We should talk about this at home.”

You pulled your hand away from his, your confusion and hurt growing. The others at the table exchanged looks of pity, further igniting your anger.

“No, we’re talking about it here. What’s going on?” you demanded as a shaky breath left your lips.

Carlos looked around nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to tell you like this.” He stopped himself again.

“Tell me what?” Your voice grew louder, drawing the attention of nearby diners.

Before he could respond, one of your friends, Beatrice, chimed in, “Just tell her, for God’s sake!” You looked at her in solitude, glad that you had some kind of support here.

“I dared Carlos to ask you out as a joke!” Javier blurted out just as you were managing to form a small smile to pass to your friend.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “What?” The chair creaked under you as you pushed it away from the table, and your boyfriend held your hand again.

“Please, it wasn’t like that,” Carlos tried to calm you down, but he was panicking himself. He was still whispering that you could not feel anything else in the world anymore. That was enough evidence.

You stood up, knocking your chair over as you once again snatched your hand away from his. “Wasn’t like what? You made me believe this was fucking real!”

Other diners began to whisper and pull out their phones, recording the scene as he stood up as well. With a desperate look, Carlos reached out to you, but you stepped back.

“This whole time, I was just a fucking… dare to you?” you shouted.

People around the restaurant started filming, their phones pointed at the escalating scene. Carlos's anger boiled over. He grabbed a nearby phone and smashed it against the table. The room fell silent, shocked gasps filling the air.

“Carlos, stop!” One of his friends tried to pull him back.

“You all think this is funny?” Carlos yelled at the onlookers, distracted now, and you knew what you were going to do as he turned around to yell again. “Get your own fucking life!”

You stood up, tears streaming down your face. “I’m done with this,” you said, your voice breaking. You were already walking away when you felt your friend follow you.

As you left the restaurant, you could hear the whispers and see the flashes of cameras. You knew this would go viral, but at that moment, you didn’t care. Your heart ached with betrayal and anger.

Carlos realized a bit too late that you were gone. Frustrated, he ran out to catch up with you and tried to call you again and again.He didn't know at the time that he would never catch a hold of you after this.

Charles Leclerc

You were scrolling through social media when a notification from an unknown sender caught your attention. Despite knowing that you shouldn’t, curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked on the thumbnail showing your boyfriend at a party.

The video started playing. It was from months ago, showing Charles in an outfit that you recognized but couldn’t remember from where. Ethan's voice could be heard clearly over the music. “I dare you to ask that girl out,” Ethan said, laughing, but you still couldn’t tell who he was pointing at. “Bet you can't do it.”

Charles grinned, looking a little tipsy. “You're on,” he replied, to the cheers and jeers of his friends. The grainy video ended with Charles approaching you. A deafening silence enveloped you when you realized this was from the day you first met him.

Charles had a determined look on his face, but the video faded into the background. Your thoughts echoed painfully in the emptiness, the truth of your lover's betrayal reverberating within you.

Your heart sank further as you sat in silence to process. You felt a rush of emotions— betrayal, hurt, and anger. Tears welled up in your eyes as you replayed the video, hoping it was some sort of sick joke. But the evidence was right there, undeniable.

At that moment, the door to the apartment opened, and Charles walked in, a smile on his face. “Hey, love. What are you up to?” he asked, not noticing your distress at first.

You turned to him, your eyes brimming with tears. “What is this?” you demanded, holding up your phone with the video paused at the damning moment.

Charles's smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of horror. “Baby, how did you—” he started, stepping towards you as he felt the room spin a bit, all the blood rushing to his head.

“Does it matter?” you snapped, your voice shaking with anger as tears gathered under your eyes. “When you only even looked at me because of a stupid bet?”

“It started as a bet, yes,” Charles admitted, his voice pained. “But it's not like that now. I fell in love with you, Y/N. Everything we've had since then has been real.” He was quickly getting closer to you, but you flinched away and that stopped him dead in his tracks.

You shook your head, unable to believe what you were hearing. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” You were so angry, your ears so warm that it wouldn’t be impossible if smoke started coming out of them.

Charles reached out, but you stepped back once again. “Please, Y/N. I was an idiot. I shouldn't have agreed to that dare, but I did. And yes, that's how it started. But the moment I got to know you, everything changed. I love you more than anything.”

“Do you have any idea just how humiliating this is?” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I thought what we had was special. I thought it was real. And now I find out it was all… a gamble to you.” You hated that you were showing him so many emotions but fuck, it hurt so much and you wish you could hurt him back.

“It is not a gamble,” Charles pleaded, tears forming in his eyes. “Not after I got to know you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Please, don't let this ruin us.” He could actually feel you slipping through his fingers.

“Fuck you, you’re the one who ruined this!” you said, turning away, trying to gather your thoughts, willing yourself to leave and hating yourself when you couldn’t. “Seriously,” you said quietly, not looking at him. “Fuck you.” You laid emphasis to show that you actually meant the words. “You’ve ruined me”

“Baby,” Charles's voice broke when he heard you say that he ruined you, but the way you glared at him because of the nickname had him backtracking. “Y/N, please just let me show you how that was all a lie. I love you. I can't fucking lose you over this.”

You walked to the door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere. “It is still all a lie,” you declared in a voice that showed you were shutting down, barely above a whisper.

As you stepped out of the apartment, you heard Charles crying behind you, but you didn’t stop to mend his heart because you couldn't even feel yours in your chest.

Lando Norris

Lando’s phone buzzed with notifications as he stepped out of the room and you glanced at it absentmindedly, not intending to invade his privacy. But the screen lit up with messages from his friends’ group chat, and the first few lines caught your eye, seeing your name in them.

“Can’t believe Lando actually went through with it.” “I know, right? It’s hilarious that she still doesn’t know!”

Your heart sank as you read further, each message a dagger to your trust. They were discussing you— about Lando making a bet involving you. Your hands trembled, and you scrolled through the conversation, your worst fears unfolding before your eyes.

“Thought he’d be gloating but he hasn’t contacted at all.” “Shit, man, he’s been with her for a year. I'm not paying him that much!”

You felt sick to your stomach. The room spun around you as you struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the betrayal. All those times you believed in Lando, trusted him with your heart— were they all just part of a cruel scheme? A fucking game?

You heard Lando approaching, unaware that you had seen everything. His smile faded as he saw the look on your face, the phone still clutched tightly in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked cautiously, sensing the tension in the air as he approached you with wide eyes.

This has happened before. Lando was always scared of coming home and finding it empty because you had found out about something he was afraid to tell you but in the past he was always wrong. It was a show, a friend, a book making you cry but today was different.

You held up the phone, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Care to explain this?”

Lando’s expression shifted from confusion to dread as he realized what had just happened. He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“Fuck, you really had me convinced!” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “You made a bet? How much have you made so far, Mr. Norris?”

“Don't say that,” Lando looked like you had slapped him across his face. He reached out to you, his face pleading for forgiveness. “Y/N, I swear it wasn’t like that—”

“How much was it?” you demanded, the words laced with bitterness. “Bet you made a lot the day you finally got laid, huh?” “No!” Your boyfrie— ex-boyfriend screamed. His eyes were carrying moisture and you couldn’t help but scoff but he carried on. “I never took a single penny, Y/N. I.. I promise, I hadn’t even talked to them since the day i realized what assholes they were and—”

Lando’s face fell, his words faltering as he rushed forward to catch you in his arms, his tears finally falling once he saw your wet face. But the truth hung heavy in the silence between you, suffocating any hope of reconciliation.

Tears fell down your cheeks onto his arm as he kissed your head and whispered sweet nothings and sorry, I’m so sorry so so sorry sorry sorry, again and again against your head, blurring your vision. “I trusted you,” you whispered, voice breaking. “I loved you.”

The weight of it all settled on you, and you sank deeper into the couch, overwhelmed by the betrayal. The anger that fueled you moments ago now gave way to a deep, searing pain. How could he have done this to you?

Lando kneeled down before you, his own tears betraying the magnitude of his mistake. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, reaching for you. “I never meant for you to find out.”

He carried on but your ears started ringing when the words registered. Wouldn’t a person with nothing to be guilty about, accept the truth and make up? Why was he so hell bent on keeping it under a hush?

His words felt hollow, empty promises in the wake of his betrayal and you cut him off as you pushed him away from you . “Get out,” you managed to say, your voice hoarse.

Lando hesitated, torn between wanting to explain and knowing that no explanation would mend what was broken. “Please,” you whispered and it was so small, so scared that he got up immediately and nodded.

He kissed your head again and you let him linger as you closed your eyes,“I.. I’ll be back, baby.” With a final, agonized look at you, he turned and left, leaving you alone in the wreckage of your shattered trust.

The silence enveloped you, broken only by your ragged breaths and the echoes of his footsteps fading away. You hugged yourself tightly, trying to hold together the pieces of your heart that he had callously shattered.

As the tears continued to fall, you felt a different kind of ache—the ache of knowing that the love you had believed in was now a painful memory because yes, he was coming back but you wouldn’t be here.

Later, Lando would enter the house in hopes of finding you but just like his worst nightmare, you wouldn’t be there. You wouldn’t be there to hold him as he’ll slowly lose it running across the house while he’ll look for you. None of your things would be there.

Yes, he destroyed you but also himself.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[planetpedri]

2 hands 𖦹 Lando Norris !

Summary: You’d avoided talking to Lando about how you felt like you were the only one holding the responsibility together. It was draining, and it was beginning to consume you.

Word count: 955+

Disclaimer/s: Angst, hurt/comfort, resolve at the end!

Bea speaks! Hi Verry Pooh!! This is for you.

The door clicking open had your head raising. You watched as Lando walked inside the apartment, exhausted and clearly ready to go to bed. He’d had a busy week and was home for the first time in nearly two weeks.

You sat at the kitchen table, a small midnight snack sitting in front of you—not that you’d even touched it. Your brain was too busy swirling with negative thoughts that you couldn’t even stomach your favorite snack.

Lando dropped his bags on the ground, his footsteps soft as he approached you. “Hey. I’m home.”

You’d long sensed looked back at your phone, not bothering to make eye contact with him as you spoke, “yeah. I noticed.”

Eyebrows furrowing, he slides onto the seat across from you. “What’s wrong?”

You let out a low bitter laugh, shaking your head. “You know, you are always asking me that. But, when I try to tell you why.. you just disappear. Walk away before I can even begin to explain.”

The dimly lit room only added to the tension as Lando stared at you, flinching at the harshness in your words. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Eyes finally moving up to him, you look at him. Really look at him. Noting the bags under his eyes and the crease in his forehead.

“Are you?” You start, “because I feel like I’m holding us together with my own two hands and you’re hardly meeting me half way.” You finish, voice cracking so quietly, Lando wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t so tuned into you.

“Thats not fair.” The curly haired man replied, defensively. “You know how much my job expects from me—how much it means to me.”

Rubbing the bridge of your nose, your eyes clamp shut for a moment only to snap open to narrow on him. “I know how much racing means to you. But at what point am I allowed into this circle of what you care about?”

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, providing no comfort to either of you.

Eyes softening, Lando’s hand twitches and clenches into a tight fist on the counter—like it had to physically restrain itself from reaching out to you.

“I don’t want to lose you.” He confesses, voice barely above a whisper.

Meeting his eyes, which were filled with unshed tears, you exhale slowly. “Then stop making me feel like I’m the only one who wants us to work out.”

There was another long beat where neither of you moved or spoke. The room felt like the oxygen was slowly seeping out and suffocating you. Neither of you dared to speak first and you watched as Lando’s fingers fidgeted on the counter.

You could see him mind racing as he tried to find the right words to say. The words that could fix this mess he’d created.

Standing abruptly, you grab your plate and move towards the trash can. “Forget it, Lando.” You speak, dumping the contents. “I’m tired. I can’t keep having this conversation over and over again.”

“No.”

The defiant word cut through the room like a knife. “You don’t get to walk away from this conversation—not when it’s the exact thing I did to get into this mess.”

You turn around to face him, exhaustion written into your every feature. “What do you want me to say? That it’s fine? That it doesn’t matter and that I’ll be over it in the morning?”

“I don’t want you to say it’s fine.” Lando shakes his head, standing from his seat to meet your gaze. His voice softer now, “I want you to tell me how I fix this. Whatever I need to do, I will. Just don’t walk away.”

Lando wasn’t defensive anymore, just vulnerable. He wasn’t searching for an excuse or an argument. He was asking—genuinely asking, if not pleading.

“Lando..” You let out a shaky breath, your resolve faltering. “I just need to know you care. That I am important to you. I don’t want anymore spaced out late night calls and rushed conversations, I want your presence.”

Slowly crossing the distance between you, as if he was scared you’d pull away, he reaches out, hands settling on your waist. His thumbs rubbing slow circles into your skin, “You are everything to me. I’m sorry I’ve failed to show you that. You are the last person I want to fail, I’m sorry I’ve sucked at separating my job life from the love of my life.”

You swallow, hard. Eyes searching his for any insincerity. When you don’t find anything but raw and pure sincerity, mixed with regret and shame, your shoulders let go of their held tension.

“So, what now?” You whisper as you couldn’t bring yourself to exert any more emotions.

“I’ll show you.” Lando says, determination evident in his tone. He continued rubbing soothing motions on your exposed skin as he continued, “I’ll cut down on the media bullshit. Bring you to more races. Make time for you between everything. Whatever it takes, I will do it. Just give me the chance to prove it. Please?”

You could feel the truth in his words, especially when his voice cracked when he whispered ‘please?’.

The anger and frustration diminished in that moment. You nod slightly, “okay.”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, Lando presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “I love you.” He murmurs against your hair.

Resting your head against his chest, you allow yourself to inhale his scent—one that had always grounded you whenever you needed it to. “I love you, too.”

likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future lando posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @lechrts @sakashq @h4vertzz @spidybaby @joaoflms

[verstappenf1lecccc]

hey! can you please write a lando × bustamante reader....where the reader is the younger sister of Bianca Bustamante and has a huge crush on lando but Lando finds her irritating for some reasons and one day he shouts at her after a bad race when she tries to console him in front of the McLaren crew.. after that lando felt really bad and he had grovel a lot for forgiveness (btw the reader is only one year younger than bianca)....if you do write this thank you very much 🧡🧡

Hurt

🎀1,317 words 8561 Characters around 5 pages enjoy 🎀

ooo I’m not the biggest fan of bianca but I do love this trope :)

You knew that life was never meant to be fair to everyone yet you had no idea why life constantly tried to screw with you.

Ever since you were a child, you’d always been compared with your older sister, Bianca. She was always seen as the brave, bold, and beautiful one who dared to achieve her dreams and had high ambitions. Whereas people, heck, even your own family, saw you as the timid, overlooked, and frankly dull sibling. Did it hurt growing up like that? Yes, it did.

Did it hurt when all the boys you had a crush on would only use you to get to your sister? Yes, it did. Did it hurt to see your sister achieve everything you’d ever wanted in life and for you to only be known as her sidekick, or, in other words, her shadow? You really don’t remember the last time you’ve ever set yourself apart from your sister and her needs; it’s almost second nature for you to prioritise her and ignore yourself.

This habit of yours was noticed by the eyes of a young British driver. He’s found that habit of yours annoying ever since.

The day Bianica signed for McLaren under F1 Academy was the best and worst day of your life. You were beyond happy for her but you also felt yourself fading further into her shadow. With more media coverage and attention on your sister, you simply faded away.

You had frankly thought about packing your bags and going back home until the same blue-eyed British driver caught your attention. It was silly to say, but you felt like a little teenager with a huge crush.

You knew it wasn’t right to have a crush on your sister’s coworker, but the way he was made it almost impossible. You liked the way he talked, the way he walked, and the way he still had his accent. You liked the way his nose wrinkled any time you talked about sushi or fish. You liked the way that he was a ball of energy, always so confident and fun to be around. What you liked the most about him was the way he made you feel seen and heard. When you were with him, it was almost like you were just you and not Bianca's little sister.

However, within all the giddy feelings of having a crush on Lando, you could not ignore how badly McLaren was doing. It was almost pitiful how poor their race performance was. Qualifying 18 and 19th and having to come into the pits four times in the race would kill anyone’s mood. Lando was no different; over the course of the season, he grew more and more aggressive and agitated after each race.

Lando and her had formed a little ritual: after each race, he would do his interviews while she would wait in the garage, and he would go into his driver's room, and exactly 5 minutes later, she would show up with any sweet treat she could snuggle in, and they would just talk. Some days it would be him talking and her listening, and other days it would be her lifting his confidence up with encouraging words. It is safe to say she really loved their ritual, only hoping to continue their ritual with better results for him.

As the season went on, she noticed a shift in Lando's behavior. His happygo-llucky attitude towards her started to shift towards a more annoyed and irritated mood. It started when she tired of talking to him before a race; he didn’t take kindly to that and simply ignored her and rolled his eyes. It hurt her; it really did, and she could do nothing about it.

They were not friends; they were just forced to be together due to their situations. She knew he would never like her back, but her infatuation with him made each and every move he made romantic.

It started to affect her more when he started distancing himself from her. Lando never wanted to hurt her; he started getting fond of the girl he once was annoyed with. He didn’t know why he started cutting her off; he was trying to play dumb, but deep down he knew he started having feelings for her.

He messed up in Silverstone both on and off track. Home Grand Prixs always have a special place in drivers hearts. It was no different with Lando; Silverstone was the one place every British driver wanted to win in front of their home crowd on their home soil.

The race was long anticipated; she was in his driver's room prior to the race; they had their normal routine done and dusted; he stared at her for a second longer; and she started at his lips for even longer.

They both knew the tension in the room was inevitable; someone just had to make a move. McLaren was proper shit during qualifying, so all expectations were nullified even before the race started. With Lando starting in P9 and Oscar in P5, it irked Lando how well Oscar was doing in the same car as him. A rookie driver beating the team's star child was never a pretty image.

The race started with Lando’s car being 2 seconds off the pace of K-Mag, which was really nice for him. As the race progressed, Lando almost made up 3 places by the end of the 38th lap.

However, McLaren messed up Lando in the pits, being stationary for almost 18 seconds. His 6th place turned into a plum last, and to make matters worse, he ended up retiring the car simply out of spite. He knew he was mad, and he showed it really well on the cameras, especially towards his team.

She knew it was a risk to go see Lando, especially after seeing how mad and snappy he looked. She knew he was probably beating himself up over the way this race went. It didn’t help that Oscar ended up on the podium. It was horrible, really, but neither of them could do anything.

He saw her enter his room; he didn’t like that. He didn’t want her to see him like this, all beaten and broken down. He didn’t realise when his tone shifted or when he felt the anger rise up within him.

All she had said was, “It’s not your fault; I know you are going to do better.“ That’s all he let her get out before he exploded.

“I honestly don’t remember asking for your opinion. God, you are so pathetic sometimes, always searching for attention from anyone who spares a glance at you. It’s all your fault; you think it’s funny to come into my room and give me glances right before a race. God, why are you so fucking stupid?"

“Maybe this is why your sister will always be better than you; your parents probably saw that, and so does everyone else when they see you and her together. Look at her; she’s a driver, and look at you sneaking into a driver's room, offering yourself to him all for what?? bloody attention?? Get out. I don’t want to see you anymore. All you’ve done is clutter my brain.”

Y/N walked out of his room with hot tears running down her face, her face all red, and a pounding headache. But what was worse than all that pain combined was the pain running through her heart; it genuinely felt like her heart was snapped into two and stepped on by a herd of elephants.

She didn’t know why he snapped at her; all she wanted was to help him. Everything he said made her fall into a spiralling downfall. All the work she’s done to keep her insecurities hidden and healed, Lando’s words ripped them apart and left them burning red and raw.

[saskiaalonso]

There's nothing better than reading the most gut-wrenching angsty fic at 2am

[stepintothelimelight]

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄SHE CAN GO HOME, BUT SHE’S NOT GOING TO

┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　° i would do

anything

you want me to…. ✧ ⁺ ┊

PART 4 of the Spitfire Saga

TRAILER: A home race that doesn’t feel like home anymore

(2018!f1grid x fem!Genz!driver!reader, max verstappen x reader (platonic), lewis hamilton x reader (platonic) sebastian vettel x reader (platonic))

For more Spitfire content go to my account and it’s my pinned post since tumblr hates me and won’t let me link anything :)

WARNINGS: FAMILY ISSUES, mentioned child abuse, swearing, gratuitous hurt/comfort, reader’s birthday happens before the gp, mention of a suicidal thought, ANGST, barely edited :)

fc: an assortment of female celebs

Aaaaannnnd ACTION!

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f1

f1: 🇺🇸🦅💥💥💥HOME RACE FOR Y/N L/N 🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅 

 American fans - be there or be 🟦

📍Circuit of the Americas

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You arrive early, per usual, to make sure you have time for every fan, and maybe to catch a glimpse of Taylor Swift, who will be singing the national anthem today.

Your phone call with Seb last night quickly turned into him and Hanna knocking on your hotel room door and enveloping you in their arms. You fell asleep between the two of them, a comfort show playing on low volume in the background.

You hate that it caught you off guard. A small, stupid part of you actually believed that your family - your mother - could love you like they - like she- was meant to. 

It was supposed to be fun. You dressed up, treated them to one of the nicest restaurants in Austin. The second they arrived, though, it all turned to shit. 

At least your fans are majorly little girls and they couldn’t care less if you’re having widely photographed, public arguments with your older brother after a family dinner turned sour. 

Miraculously, you get into the paddock unscathed by prying questions into your personal life. You just get set up in your drivers room for Qualifying and try to put it all behind you. You don’t see Taylor, and unlike any other day, you don’t have the energy to face the paddock.

As you rearrange your hangers for the hundredth time, there’s a knock on your door. You sigh. Most of the team knows that you like your private time before any event, especially your first home race. 

“Yeah?”

The door opens slowly. It’s Lewis. Since the beginning of the season, your relationship with him has definitely developed. He’s good friends with Seb and you have a sneaking suspicion that he has told Lewis to keep an eye on you where Seb can’t. He’s become a sort of mentor-slash-friend and you couldn’t be happier, especially since you’ve both signed on for another few years at Mercedes. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you say. 

Lewis sent me this. 

“Did you hear about Taylor Swift?” You exclaim. “How cool is that?”

He grants you a trademark half-smile. 

“Consider it a belated birthday gift.”

You eyes widen and your mouth drips open.

“It was you?”

He shrugs.

“It wasn’t very hard to convince her.”

You hurry over to him, hesitate for a second, then hug him gently. You’ve never hugged him in a normal setting. You break off of him and stand there, not quite knowing what to say next.

“Home race,” He says awkwardly. Lewis is hardly ever awkward. “Big deal.”

“Yeah.” You don’t mean to sound annoyed. Or tired. Or defeated. 

“Family coming? I’d like to meet them. I don’t think I have, yet. “

That’s true. Your mother has been to two Grand Prix since the start of the season and your father and brother one, respectively. They’re busy people, but after last night, some part of you wonders if your mother intentionally schedules conflicts so that they can never make it. 

That’s stupid, she says in your head. We love you. You’re the one who makes this whole thing impossible. 

When they have shown up, you’ve kept them as far away as possible from cameras, and Lewis draws every camera in every room he steps foot in. Maybe your brother is right. Maybe you hide them because of some secret shame you hold for them. The only thing you’re ashamed of is how complicated your relationship with your family is. 

“No. I-“

What?

Sent them home? 

Told them to never show their faces around the paddock again?

Cried into Seb’s chest all of last night wishing I was dead because of how horrible they make me feel?

“Couldn’t deal with them today,” you say decisively. The media might see you as a stone cold bitch, so why not Lewis, too. 

“They’re your family.”

“They hate me,” you whisper, turning back you your hangers. You’ve never said it out loud. Not to Max or Charles, not even to Hanna last night when she was helping you wash your face through swollen eyes and a runny nose.

“I’m sure they don’t-“

“You’ve never met them. My mom hates me. She loathes me and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I have given her everything and she still don’t bring herself to even like me a little bit. The rest this I’m too independent, too liberal, not liberal enough, too opinionated, too young, too smart, whatever. My dad and his side wish I went to university and my mom’s side tries to chase the fame. It sucks. It didn’t use to be like this, but it is now.”

You spare a glance back at him. He’s wide- eyed. This is probably the most he’s heard you talk without cracking a joke or bursting out laughing.

“Have you told Seb? Or… Max, Charles?”

“Seb, yes. Max would order a hit on my entire family if I told him this type of thing and Charles would hide the evidence.”

What you told Charles at Christmas, he didn’t acknowledge then and there, but he was noticeably cold to your mother when you brought her to see him.  

Lewis studied you, then a look dawns on his face. It’s a mix of dread and fury, but he schools it quickly.

“Y/n,” He says in a very serious tone. “Don’t lie to me.”

Your brow furrows.

“Do they - does your mother or your father hit you?”

It wasn’t the question you’d expected, but it still makes your blood turn cold.

You think for a second, contemplate his expression, run the risks of him exploding if you tell him the truth. 

“No…” you trail off. “Once. I made her mad when I was fifteen and-“ you raise your own hand and slap your face. “Never after though.”

She cried into your shoulder for hours after, telling you just how sorry she was, how she would never dream of laying another violent hand on you again. 

Lewis’s mouth opens then closes. You purse your lips. 

“I don’t need my family,” you whisper. “And I don’t need you to worry about me. I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, one that says:

There’s no way in hell I believe you.

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chalmaxy/nship

chalmaxy/nship: Max and Charles (+Pierre) teaming up to cheer Y/n up 😫 they are sooooo whipped for her (even tho they pretend they hate each other 🙄)

tagged: max33verstappen, charles_leclerc, pierregasly, yourusername, f1

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The video starts with the camera fixed on a very angry - looking Y/n. Her brow is set and her mouth is distorted in a flat line, which of course, is to be expected. She was obviously off her usual top-five worthy game today and has earned herself a starting position of P20.

The interviewer asks her a series of questions that she responds to very flatly and emotionlessly, so much so that her press officer elbows her in the side more than once to get an actual, genuinely not sarcastic answer out of her. 

And then -

“Do you think your family issues are the reason you’ve performed so miserably today?”

She stops. Pauses, opens her mouth then closes it again. 

“That,” she drags out bitingly. “was an incredibly stupid and insensitive question. Every question you’ve asked me today has been either completely patronizing or borderline inappropriate.”

She shoots a look at her press officer, shakes her head slightly, then leans into the microphone.

“You’ll understand why we’re choosing to cut this interview short.”

And then she turns and leaves the media pen.

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mercedesamgf1

mercedesamgf1: AAAAAaaaaaannnnnddd she’s done it again! A home race win is yet another thing our Spitfire can check off of her bucket list 💪 

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user6: Admin really said yes she’s a spitfire yes she’s OUR Spitfire 

user7: did anyone else notice how down Y/n seemed up on the podium tho

⮑ user11: Yeah, definitely not the energy we’re used to up there

yourusername: 🖤🖤

⮑user12: girl I need to know the tea behind the story and the tweet 🙏🙏🙏

user7: Call me crazy but she’s the biggest talent of her generation, not Verstappen 

⮑ user8: you’re crazy

⮑user9: @/user8: did we not just watch the same race? 

user10: she’s making the sport annoying.

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yourusername

yourusername: Great home race win guys! 🇺🇸💥💥🦅💥 lovely to share the podium with maxie and lewie

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max33verstappen: Get ready, I’m coming to get you in an hour to celebrate 

⮑yourusername: I can’t drink here dumbass

⮑user13: MaxY/n confirmed???

taylorswift: So glad I finally got to meet you in person! 

⮑ user14: TAYLOR SWIFT WAS THERE AND Y/N DIDNT EVEN MENTION IT???? OH SOMETHING’S WRONG WRONG

⮑ yourusername: 🖤

user15: U go Spitfire!!

user16: Y/n is such a bitch. 

lewishamilton: This is starting to sound redundant, but congrats Y/n!

user17: I still can’t get over how rude she was to that reporter 

⮑user18: EVERY reporter is rude and/or patronizing towards her. She deserves to bite back once and a while

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True to his word, Max knocks on your door. You get up from the spot you’ve been staring out the window and open it.

He’s dressed up, ready to go out drinking, you suppose. You’ve changed into your pajamas and tied your hair up sloppily. 

He arches his eyebrows.

“Ready to celebrate?”

You shrug. 

“Not really in the mood. Plus I can’t drink here. You go ahead, tell the team to send me the bill and I’ll pick it up.”

You go to close the door then. He kicks his foot between the door and the doorframe. 

“Come out. It could still be fun,” He offers. “It’s your home race. I’d be happy if I won at spa.”

He raised his eyes brows at you and you look down guiltily. You should be happy. You’ve broken a record of some kind, you’re pretty sure, and every other driver dreams of winning his home race. 

“You’d be happy because your family would be there to see it,” you say bitterly. “Because then you’d be able to prove to them it wasn’t all for nothing. That you’re not selfish or - or something.”

Max closes the door when he hears your voice tremor. There’s a hard concern in his eyes. 

“Go, Max. You should celebrate.”

“I don’t want to anymore.”

You look him up and down. He’s gelled his hair and put on a non redbull shirt. Obviously he’s gearing up for a big night of celebrating. 

“Tell me,” He says. “You can talk to me. I’m not a stranger to family issues.”

You scoff and flop onto your bed. 

“It’s not a big deal.”

“You love partying. It’s a big deal.”

It’s quiet, except for his slightly heavy breathing. Here’s Mad Max Verstappen, standing at the foot of your bed begging you to confide in him with his eyes. His big, sad, droopy eyes.

You cover your face with the your arm.

“I can’t believe they actually left,” you choke out. “I told them to go and they just … left. The first time my entire family could muster up the time and effort to spend an entire weekend supporting me and they decide to just go home.”

Max moves towards you, hesitates, then settles himself on the floor next to your bedside table. 

“Why?”

You huff. 

“I don’t know. I push them away. I get on my mom’s nerves. I try too hard to impress my dad. Did you know,” you take a deep breath. “Did you know my mother hasn’t told me good night or I love you in five years?”

He sits and stares out the window. 

“Why doesn’t she love me, Max?”

It comes out more pathetic than you wanted it to. Max is probably one of the only people who might get it, just a little. 

“Schat…” he trails off. “I don’t know.”

Max is two years older than you. Sometimes those two years feel like a lifetime. You wish he was a lifetime older than you so he would know.

“Maybe…” He trails off. “Fuck. Maybe some people just aren’t made to be parents.”

You squeeze your eyes shut to try and push down the sobs building in your chest. Max, thankfully, doesn’t react when you let out a soft gasp and sniff wetly. He just sits there and stares out the window

Eventually, you curl up in your bed and Max sits a on the other side (on top of the covers, a safe two feet away) and turn on Star wars (The prequels - he’s a huge nerd, surprise, surprise).

Maybe some people aren’t made to be parents.

Maybe some people aren’t made to be daughters. 

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✧ ⁺ ⁺ Yelled down the hall

but nobody answered ┊┊┊✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

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Aaannnnnnddd scene!

DIRECTOR’S CUT: A short and sad angsty hurt comfort type of thing… next chapter i swear will be happier !!

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[k0juki]

It's just a vase

Kimi Räikkönen x fem!reader

gn is alright too!

Warnings: blood, sad reader, maybe slight panic attack, mentions of y/n BUT soft Kimi that loves y/n so mutch. And one Google translate

Hurt/Comfort angst and bit of fluff I guess? It's longer than I wanted it to be, but 💁‍♀️

summary: Kimi calmly reassure reader when she drop a glass, gently checking her hands for any injury.

Words: 680

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It wasn't her fault, it really wasn't. That stupid vase just slipped out of her hands.

That's what she told herself. 

And y/n being y/n, clumsy as always didn't mean to destroy it, even if it was by an  accident, she still feels horrible. It's just a stupid glass, nothing that you can repair, but still, she feels horrible.

 She doesn't want him to know that she broke his favorite one, the one that she gave him on his birthday, as a present from her.

And what she doesn't want him to know, is that she had accidentally cut herself when she started to clean up the shards.

Y/n told herself that she's gonna clean it up before Kimi comes back. But her hand hurts and is still bleeding. At first it didn't hurt at all and the bleeding wasn't that bad, but the more she tried to help, the more it bled and hurt.

She couldn't do anything more than sit there, lean back against the couch and cry. She felt pathetic, "why i wasn't more careful?" now, fully crying, she didn't heard that Kimi came back from his training. 

When he opened the door, he knew something wasn't right, maybe it's because he didn't got his "hey Kimi, you're finally home, I made your favorite" or "we can now watch that new movie you were talking about", no, the only think he heard was soft cries from the next room.

Without a second thought, Kimi storm to the living room of your shared apartment, to find you sitting on the floor crying with bloody hand and about millions of shards next to you. The bood now staining the new carpet she bought last week and how happy she was when they bought it, to their home.

"Hey, hey it's alright, y/n you hear me? It's alright ". Kimi said, calmly reassuring, kneeling in front of her. "Let me see your hand okay? It's alright I promise". He took her hand and examined it, upon seeing the large but not deep cut he knew it wasn't anything serious, but was still careful and conscious of the pain she must be feeling in the moment.

Carefully, he helped y/n stand up and go around the shards. "I'm sorry " was all she was able to say. "It's all right love, there's nothing to be sorry for". He got her shaking form to the bathroom and gently picked her up, to make her sit on the counter. "What happened Lumihiutale?". Kimi said as he started wrapping bandage around her hand, after he disinfected it.

Y/n looked at him, when her cries died after while, but was still shaking and had lump in her throat. "Well I-I was cleaning" she started speaking, voice weak and wobbly "a-and I accidentally dropped the vase and then it s-shattered and tried to clean it, but I had cut myself and it hurt a-and I..." she almost started to cry again, but Kimi had stopped it before she could. 

"Hey, hey, look at me, it's alright, it's just a vase, yeah? A vase." He softly said to her. Putting his hands on each side of her head, looking straight to her eyes, his piercing blues looking into hers, kissing her slowly. 

"Don't apologize, okay? I'm just glad that you are alright now" he said after he pulled away. Helping her down and making sure she was fine he said "c'mon i will clean it up and then we'll watch some movie, how about that, hm?"

Now when y/n wasn't crying anymore, she turned to him, carefully wrapping both of her hands around his torso and resting her head on his shoulder. Finally feeling better after the mess she accidentally made. 

"Thank you Kimi" she whispered as she felt his arms wrapping around her, his left hand holding the back of her head, gently massaging her scalp and his other wrapping around her waist, kissing the top of her head.

"There's nothing to be thanking for Lumihiutale, I love you, alright?"

"Love you too Kimi".

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Lumihiutale = snow flake

DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK!

I promised nsfw, but I felt angsty...so tomorrow or maybe later today will be nsfw 🙏 bear with me

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!

The picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[adventuringblind]

Hi!

can you do a fic w/ Oscar where the reader is a PhD student so they can’t really go to any of the races so fans online are DRAGGING her by saying she’s a bad gf, Oscar should cheat on her, and she doesn’t deserve him etc. Maybe she has like an identity crisis at a race and is questioning everything so Oscar is there to comfort and reassure her?

I’m sorry this is very long!

also I love your writing :)

The Psychology of Fans

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst if you squint

Request: omg I love this idea, specifically because I am a student. Also send me ideas plz 🙏. I don't think y'all understand the excitement it brings me to make something that you enjoy :)

Summary: it's a busy time in readers life working on her PhD in psychology. She wants to support Oscar as much as possible but is struggling to find the time. The fans take notice of her lack of presence and start tearing her down because of it.

Warnings: Toxic fans, panic attacks

Notes: written in third person. This one was challenging, but fun to write!

Masterlist

Everything had been going amazing for the couple. She was starting her PhD in psychology, and Oscar had signed with McLaren for a seat. They were ecstatic for eachother.

They had their own dynamic that worked for them. Spending time together when they could but being patient with the other if things didn't go to plan.

When they started dating, she had requested that her socials and information remain private. She didn't care if people knew they were dating. She just didn't want to deal with the fans and media while she was deep in her studies.

Things between them were great. Oscar tried to keep things as private as he could. It was simple during his formula 2 career when they started dating. There weren’t as many people watching his every step.

His fan base grew exponentially as soon as he signed with McLaren. All the sudden people were everywhere asking for pictures and autographs. All the while, people were asking about his dating life. They were asking questions about her.

When the Australian Grand Prix came around, she made sure she was there to see it. She wanted to support Oscar and his first formula 1 race. It was an exciting moment for him and you wanted to share it together.

The cameras and fans were relentless and ridiculous, in her opinion. Their was never a moment of peace since they wanted to know everything about Oscar and his guest.

After everything was said and done, the fans took nicely to her and Oscar. It was relieving for both of you. It gave the press team less to worry about. Not that either would have cared, but it was nice knowing he wouldn’t had to hear about it in meetings.

School had started picking up the pace. McLaren was struggling this season. It left both of them stressed and longing for each other. She wanted to support him more then what she was but her schedule didn’t allow for it.

Sometimes she would travel with Oscar but didn’t go to the track. It was a small gesture that he appreciated. He didn’t care where she was as long as she was cheering for him.

The fans had taken notice of her lack of attendance. Coming up with their own assumptions about why she wasn’t there. Calling her names that were untrue and hurtful

“Oscar deserves better.”

“Bet she just wants a top driver.”

“Maybe she has other guys when he’s gone.”

It was driving her insane. She knew it shouldn’t get under her skin, but it did. Oscar did deserve someone who could support him full time. Who cheered him on at every race. It was causing her more stress then she could manage.

She decided not to tell Oscar. The idea of burdening him anymore made her feel sick.

~

It was now the British Grand Prix and she had decided to go and support Oscar despite the work that was piling up on her plate. He had gotten new upgrades on his car and she was saying prayers that they worked.

She practically fell over when he finished fourth. Screaming in joy for the Australian who had been working so hard.

It was on their way out that everything seemed to fall apart.

Fans wanted pictures and the cameras were still in his face. He tried to shied the girl beside him from it, pulling into his side while he walked. It was then he heard what they were saying. Heat rising to his face.

“If you’re not going to say something nice then let us through please.” Oscar pushed past everyone and forced his way to their car.

He held her close that night and reassured her that they were spewing lies. This if they were acting like that then they weren’t real fans.

~

Oscar was shocked when she came to the Hungarian Grand Prix. He knew she was stressed about school. He saw the dark circles under her eyes. But she is absolutely determined.

Peoples criticism was getting worse by the day. Oscar had started to catch on since his PR team was now bringing it up but he didn’t want to push her.

It was the end of qualifying. Another success from Oscar. A success she didn’t get to see despite all her best efforts.

The thought of what everyone was saying ran wild in her head. An interaction with a few fans left her devastated. They were saying she was only here now because Oscar is doing well. How she should support him through it all. How he could do better then her. How he deserved more.

She was sobbing now. Her mind screaming insecurities. Her breath uneven and her hands clutching her head as she tried to block out the voices.

Oscar had been looking for her after the press conference. He wanted nothing more then to hold her in his arms and celebrate his achievement. He’d been looking for ten minutes with no sign of her.

He tried calling and texting, but had yet to receive an answer. Worry started to settle in his chest. His efforts now expedited only to run right into Lando.

“Have you seen y/n anywhere?” Oscar asks the Brit.

Lando, however, was out of breath. He had run around trying to find Oscar for a few minutes. “I heard her in your driver room. She sounds awful mate.”

Oscar didn’t waste a second moving in that direction. He felt a bit stupid for not having checked there first.

It didn’t take him long until he was swinging open the door to reveal her curled up on the floor. Her hands over her ears and body shaking.

He crouches down next to her. Slowly so he doesn’t scare her.

Sue didn't notice his presence. She couldn't even see her surroundings. Everything was going dark and she knew she needed to breathe or she would lose consciousness.

She heard faint yelling. "Lando!"

It was Oscar's voice. The sound almost drew her back to reality. But the dark confines of her mind had too much of a grip.

Oscar was ready to go into his own panicked state, but he needed to remain calm. He hears Lando slide into the doorway. His face dropping immediately now that he can actually see her.

Oscar takes her into his arms. Her curled up body was now placed between his legs. Her back against his chest.

She was completely absent. She wanted to protest and understand what was happening, but the fear of letting the voices in made her refrain from doing so.

It was difficult for Oscar to stay calm. He'd never seen her like this. He ran his fingers gently up and down her back. He uses his leg to push hers closer to the ground. Her body is trying to fight his, but the lack of air in her lungs makes it difficult.

Oscar wraps his arms around her now, pulling her further into him. Still trying every tech he knows to soothe her.

Lando came back with water and made his best attempt at coaching him through this.

She still was struggling to breathe, which concerned them both. Her hands gripped her head so hard he could see little spots of crimson in crescent shapes.

"Talk to her, mate. It might help her get out of her head."

Oscar nodded his head at Lando's suggestion. The Brit then ran off again to investigate what happened.

Instead of holding her around her middle, Oscar switched his tactics. Moving his hands to slip underneath hers. The little specks of blood now decorate his fingers.

Her mind was trying to grasp onto anything to bring her back. The thoughts are doing their best to pull her back under. She knows Oscar is there. She tries to ground herself with his touch.

He's repeating his words - a prayer falling from his lips willing her back to him. "I've got you. I'm here. Breathe. You're safe."

She tries to slow her erratic heart. Her body has been dry heaving and coughing from the sheer amount of static.

She finds the feeling in her arms and legs come back, using it to push herself further into Oscar. Then, finally, she can feel the thick cloud that has taken hold of her mind to start to filter through. The end of the tunnel in sight.

Her body practically goes limp. Oscar holds her up and leans her head on his chest. Trying to soothe the female in his lap.

Everything in her body hurts, but her lungs are finally getting some reprieve. She takes in the situation around her. Oscar's comforting touch keeps her present.

Her body stops trembling. Only little hiccups now escape as the tears slow. It hurts Oscar to see her like this. She looks broken and he dosen't know how he didn't catch it sooner.

"I'm sorry" falls from her lips. He just shushs her and continues to stroke her arm. "You deserve better than me."

Oscar is taken aback by her admission. He was too stunned to stop her before she continued on. "Other girls can be there to support you. They aren't as busy with school. They are prettier and can travel with you, and you wouldn't have to worry about them cheating -"

Oscar shifts them around until he can see her face. Her puffy teary eyes shattering him. He holds her face in his hands. “Other girls aren’t you.”

She can’t stop the tears from welling in her eyes again. A flurry of emotions tries to take hold once again.

“Who gave you that idea?”

She shakes her head. Willing him to ask anything else. Panic again rising into her throat as caught wrack her body. She tried to pull away from him. Her body starting to close in on itself again at the memories.

Oscar doesn’t let it happen. Holding her in place firmly yes every one of his touches are gentle and loving. He silently wills Lando to come back faster. His teammate has dealt with anxiety and would know better then him what to do.

“It’s okay, Love. We don’t have to talk about it.” He soothes and reassures her until her body goes lax agains his once again. Put exhaustion takes over and she can’t will herself to stay coherent and conscious any longer.

Oscar is relieved when she falls asleep on him. Her breathing becomes even and her body now relaxes.

Lando reappeared in the doorway ten minutes later; Out of breath and drenched in sweat. “Mate, you’re not gonna like this.”

~

The two boys moved the girl to the small couch and draped her against it gently.

Oscar was trying to hold in his rage. He wanted to storm out of the motor home and unleash his anger on everyone who ever said a word against his girl. The girl he loves. The one he chose and trusts and is ridiculously proud of. Her accomplishments deserve to be praised, not torn down by those who call themselves fans.

Lando had warned him against it. It would be a PR mess and might actually cause her more anxiety. So he bit his tongue and put on the Oscar everyone was used to seeing.

He practically sped through all his media duties. Wanting nothing more then to see that he got her back to the hotel room. Back to a safe environment where she could open up to him.

Oscar was done quickly and back in his room and changed within an hour. The woman asleep on the couch still breathing evenly.

He knew he didn’t need to, but he waited for Lando. The Brit had offered to help him get her back safely and fend off any media who tried to talk to them.

He welcomed the fact that they were distracted. Not caring much as passerby’s gave him weird looks.

~

She woke up in a foreign place. She distinctly remembers being at the track. Regardless, she couldn’t help but sink into the comfort.

Oscar her her shifting around. Gently seating himself next to her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” She rasped. Her throat both sore and dry from her earlier wailing.

“Please don’t panic-“ he places a hand over hers. “- Lando told me what happened. We’ve both made statements about it and the PR team is doing the rest. Everyone agrees it isn’t right.”

A weight felt like it was being lifted of her chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It’s my job to make sure things like this don’t happen. I love you so much and I hated seeing you like this. I don’t car in anyone else sees it. I see it and I see you. And you want to know what I see?”

She shoot him a quizzical look, curious as to where he’s going with this.

He smiles. The smiles that makes her feel warm. The smile that make heat rise to her face.

“The greatest thing I could have ever asked for.l

[verstxppen33]

Tears in the rain

summary: part 5 of the series "Where we belong"

you're drunk and crying, but it takes an interesting turn.

genre: hurt, comfort

previous part

warnings: mentions of being drunk, mentions of alcohol

After you finished drinking as much alcohol as you could handle—three glasses, but who’s counting—you felt a pleasant buzz settle in. Your steps were a bit unsteady, each one slightly more tipsy than the last. The rain poured on you, not too heavy, but it still made you wet.

The way back to your apartment seemed longer than usual, so you had to concentrate on walking in a straight line, practicing over and over to make sure you looked as sober as possible—Even if the streets were empty and dark.

You took out your phone and squinted at the screen, trying to make out the numbers. A little past midnight. How had you spent so much time at the bar? It felt like mere moments had passed, but hours had slipped away unnoticed.

As you continued down the street, the cool night air sobering you up a little, memories of earlier came flooding back. You recalled how you and Lando had walked down this very path, your bodies close, laughter spilling into the night.

His hand had rested on your waist, warm and steady, guiding you through the crowd. The memory sent an unpleasant shiver through you, lingering on the way he made you feel both happy and safe.

Continue reading!

Those memories hit hard, each one sharper than the last, dredging up moments you had tried to bury. The alcohol coursing through your veins made you even more emotional, amplifying everything.

A single tear rolled down your cheek, unbidden. How could he betray you like that? The sting of his sudden silence, the way he had just stopped reaching out, ignoring you without any explanation. He didn’t even give you a reason.

He just… disappeared, didn’t he?

One moment, he was everywhere, his touch, his laughter, his presence—and the next, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and a dull ache in your chest.

You didn’t even bother to check if anyone else was around; the emotions hit too hard and too fast for you to care. You let the tears flow freely, the alcohol making you far more emotional than you would normally be.

Each tear that streamed down your cheek felt like a fresh betrayal, a painful reminder that only Lando could make you feel like this.

It was his fault, wasn’t it? He was the one who led you on, who made you believe there was something more. And then, without warning, he left you in the dark.

A sob caught in your throat as the night grew colder, the streetlights blurring through your tears, but you couldn’t stop.

Not now. Not when everything felt so raw. Your tears stained the sleeves of your hoodie, making you seem like some drunk idiot.

Meanwhile, Lando was walking down a nearby street, just a few meters away from you. He kept his pace slow, lost in his own thoughts, when he suddenly heard faint cries echoing through the quiet night. He gripped his umbrella tighter.

The sound was distant but unmistakable—a woman, her sobs carrying a raw, aching sadness. Curiosity piqued, he took a sharp left, following the sound until he stepped around the corner.

There, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlight, the rain making him a little wet, he saw you. His breath caught in his throat as he recognized who it was, and for a moment, he just stood there, unsure of what to do or say.

He stared at you in disbelief, his eyes widening as they met yours.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you saw him standing there, his expression a mix of confusion and concern, your hair dripping from the rain.

Your eyes were red from crying, hands trembling uncontrollably. Lando’s brow furrowed deeply, and he began to take slow, cautious steps toward you, his shoes squirting slightly because of the rain.

"What’s wrong?" He asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

"What’s wrong?" you echoed, your voice rising with a mixture of anger and hurt. "You’re wrong! I’m wrong, I— What are you even doing here?— Just— Leave me alone..!" you choked on your words, frustration and heartbreak crashing over you all at once.

The emotions you’d been holding back now surged forward, and you could barely keep it together as the weight of his betrayal bore down on you.

"Oh. Yeah, That.." he says, reality creeping up to him as he notices that he's really hurt you. "Love, I promise, I never wanted to do anything like this. I don't know what has gotten into me." he assures you, stepping closer to you, his heart aching at the sight of you crying, even when intoxicated.

"Do you even love me anymore? I mean, I doubted that a while ago." you reply with a slight crack in your voice, his heart breaking at your words. "Yes. Yes I do." he replies, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly.

"I know it's a surprise you see me here, or even want to see me. But I guess, I'm just here, hmm?" he whispers, gently rocking you back and forth.

All you could do, was cry into his chest. Stain his tshirt, maybe. Every sob you made made Lando feel even worse, even guiltier for what he has caused. He gently runs his fingers through your damp hair, resting his chin on your head and whispering soothing and apologetic words. You stained his sweater even more than it already was from the rain.

He regrets his doing every time you cries heavier, kissing the top of your wet head as you did so. He thought you'll take it easy, but that was such a stupid thought.

Someone as sensitive as you, someone who relied on touch and words, being hurt like this? It would be a nightmare. And it was.

What will the future hold for you two? Definitely, and hopefully, something better.

[unformula1]

you’ll stay? (LS2 x OP81)

logan’s life is hard but he’s got oscar. w/c: 651 day 29 of loscar posts until we get a loscar podium (series masterlist) masterlist

Logan has never felt more alone. He sits on his bed, the cold embrace of his blanket enveloping him. His tears slowly flow out, tracing his cheekbones, clinging onto his chin before falling onto the bed. His head is tucked between his two knees, soft sobs echo in his hotel room. 

He’s alone. 

A knock on his door forces Logan to sit up and wipe his tears off. As he walks toward the door, he checks the mirror, cleaning off any trace of him crying from his face. Logan takes a deep breath and puts on a smile.

He opens the door and comes face to face with Oscar.

“Hi Logs.” Oscar waves, he’s holding a bag.

“Hi Oscar.” Logan says after clearing out his throat, his voice comes out more hoarse than expected.

“I didn’t see you at the party. Alex was there!” Oscar says.

The party. Logan forgot if he got invited but he wasn’t planning on going anyway.

“I crashed.” Logan deadpans, “I’m not gonna go to a party.”

“Yea… my bad.” Oscar says before he lifts up the bag, “I brought some pastries, my grandmother made them. Thought you might be hungry.”

Logan stares blankly before taking the bag from Oscar, “Thank you.”

“Mind if I come in?” Oscar asks.

Logan looks back into his room and hesitates.

“I mean if you don’t want me to then I won’t…” Oscar’s voice trails off.

“Come in.” Logan says.

“Oh. Cool!” Oscar walks into the room and takes a seat on one of the chairs.

Logan closes the door and places the bag on the table before sitting down opposite Oscar on the edge of the bed.

“How have you been?” Oscar asks, then instantly regrets it, “Sorry, stupid question.”

“It’s okay.” Logan says, he doesn’t exactly want to converse right now, he sort of just wants to cry.

“So… life’s rough?” Oscar says, “Sorry. Stupid again, I’m not very good at this whole… conversing thing.” 

“It’s fine.” Logan says.

“Do you want me to help you with… anything? You could talk to me right now.” Oscar says.

Logan sighs, “I just need to cry right now.” He says before flopping back first onto his bed.

“Oh… are you okay if I stay?” 

Logan nods, not sure if Oscar could see but Oscar stayed where he was, so Logan assumed he saw the nod.

“If you want me to leave anytime just tell me.” Oscar says before sitting next to where Logan was lying down.

Logan usually would never cry in the presence of someone else, he had a facade to keep up. However, right now, Logan couldn’t care less.

When he crashed, the only faces he saw were disappointed ones. They only got more disappointed in him when Alex scored points. All of them shot Logan with wary eyes. Alex was disappointed in him. James was disappointed in him. All of them were.

He tried his best, he really did everything he could to get better but nothing paid off. His dreams were like flashing before his very eyes.

Logan stares into the ceiling.

“Are you disappointed in me?” Logan asks.

Oscar shakes his head, “No. I would never be.”

Logan lets out a soft scoff, “Sure…”

“Hey! I would never be disappointed in you.” Oscar says, patting Logan’s thigh, “I’m always proud of you.”

“I literally crashed today.” Logan says.

“Everyone makes mistakes.” Oscar shrugs.

“Clearly I make more than others.” Logan scoffs, mostly at himself.

“Well, I believe in you then, I believe that you’ll get better.” Oscar says.

Logan lets out another scoff disguised as a chuckle.

“Yea…right…” Logan says, as he feels his tears slowly filling his eyes.

“Shut up mate.” Oscar says, “You’re an amazing driver, you will get better.”

Logan smiles slightly but the tears continue to flow.

“I’ll stay with you, every step of the way. Okay.”

“Promise you’ll stay?”

“Promise.”

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Take It Like A Good Girl

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mad!Lando, cursing, SMUT

Summary: After Lando's DNF he takes his anger out on you in his driver's room.

PLEASE READ!!!!

A/N: Not that anyone asked, but I’m 2 followers away from 300 and I want to say: THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! I never thought that 298 people would like my fics enough to follow me and to come back for more but I’m eternally grateful for each and every single one of you! I hope you’re enjoying the content I’m putting out and I’m not going no where!!!!

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F1 Masterlist

Seeing my boyfriend jump out of his Formula 1 car usually is a great sight to see. However, this time he's jumping out because he had to retire the car after a damning fight for the lead of the race against Max Verstappen and the contact was just too much for the car to bear.

The McLaren garage was half filled with a mixture of sadness and happiness. Sadness because Lando had to retire but happiness because Oscar has brought himself up to P2, which would still bring the team a significant amount of points.

When Lando actually got into the garage he walked past everyone without a second glance. I thought Lando was going to walk past me too with how fast he was walking away, however, he grabbed my hand and yanked me in the direction he was walking in.

It didn't take long for us to get to whatever destination I was being dragged to, which happened to be his drivers room. I didn't have a chance to ask him why he dragged me here before he shoved me inside and took off his helmet before speaking.

"Take off your clothes"

Now I'm used to Lando demanding me to take my clothes off when we're about to have sex but the way he was telling me right now sent heat blooming in my core.

"I'm not going to ask again. Take your clothes off" I figured it was better to not question Lando right now given how upset he is at the moment.

I only got to taking off my shirt before I felt Lando yank my body to his and smashing our lips together in a passionate and heated kiss. I felt his tongue brush against my bottom lip as if begging for entrance which I happily granted. Our tongues fought for dominance but Lando's ultimately won in the end. My arms wrapped around his neck trying to pull him impossibly closer to me as we continued to make out. Without breaking the kiss, Lando started to rid himself of his race suit and fireproofs as I started to undo the buckle of my belt before yanking it off of me with so much force, I broke a belt loop.

I felt Lando grab a hold of my wrists as I began to unbutton my pants

"Let me take care of you." Lando mumbled against my lips

"I should be saying the same thing to you" I said as I pulled away to look in his eyes

"If you want to make me feel better, you'll let me do anything I want to you. Right here, right now." Lando said as his hand collided with my ass which made a loud clap echo through his drivers room.

A slight nod of my head gave Lando all the permission he needed at the moment because the second he registered that I was giving him permission to take total control right now, I saw him drop to his knees as he unbuttoned my jeans and slowly pulled them down until they pooled at met ankles, leaving kisses in his wake before pulling them off and throwing them in a forgotten corner of his room.

Lando started by my ankle, kissing up my leg and the inside of my thigh before pulling my panties to the side and licking a long strip from my clit to my hole as he thrusted his tongue in me. My body tensed at the feeling of his tongue on my bare pussy before instantly relaxing into his touch as he threw one of my legs over his shoulder, my hands finding his hair instantly.

Lando sucked and licked my clit as he inserted two fingers into my aching hole, thrusting them at a merciless pace. I could feel my orgasm approaching closer which caused me to clench around Lando's fingers as he continued to fuck them into me. My hand that was in his hair grabbed a chunk of it as I started bucking my hips up into his face to push myself over the edge, which Lando didn't take kindly to. Pulling his fingers out, Lando placed a harsh slap against my bare pussy causing a mixture of a yelp and a moan to escape my lips as he did so.

"Did I give you permission to cum?" Lando said as he looked dead into may soul.

I didn't have time to answer before Lando stood up and manhandled me, turning me around and bending me over the massage bed before lining himself up to my entrance. Lando dragged his cock from my hole to my clit and back to my aching hole before roughly thrusting into me without warning.

Lando's grip on my hips was sure to leave marks later but I couldn't focus on that when all my mind could think of was the delicious pleasure Lando was so kindly giving me.

All that could be heard in the room was the sound of my moans, Lando’s grunts and a whole bunch of skin to skin contact as Lando’s pace grew relentless. Every few thrusts Lando would slap my ass hard before rubbing a hand over it as if to soothe the pain right away.

I could feel my orgasm building again and Lando could tell, he could read my body as if it was an open book. My broken moans started growing louder as my orgasm was quickly making itself evident. Just before I was about to fall of the edge and relish the euphoria of an orgasm, Lando pulls out and flips me so he could lift me up to sit on the massage bed before aligning himself up with my entrance again and continuing his rough pace.

“I know you’re close but I need you to hold off for me. Can you do that? Can you hold off your orgasm for me? I’m getting close.” My brain couldn’t register the words being spoken right now as all it wanted was to finally think about something else than an orgasm that’s been denied twice already.

I felt Lando slightly slap my cheeks to get my attention before saying “Aww, look at my baby. So cock drunk already and we just barely started.” All I could do was moan at the words coming out of his mouth. How I absolutely loved when Lando talked dirty in bed, it just made me go feral for him.

“I’m close baby, I need you to let go. Cum for me baby. Cum all over my cock, yes, take it like a good girl, ride it out” A wave of Euphoria waved over my body as I finally got to cum before quickly turning into my body jolting with overstimulation as Lando kept fucking me through this orgasm.

Lando’s hips faltered as he too was getting close to his orgasm “I’m about to cum, where do you want it?” Lando said, stuttering as he talked because he was too busy on trying not to cum inside on me before I gave him an answer.

I weakly muttered my response “My mouth. I want you to fuck your orgasm into my mouth. Please daddy, I need it” Lando didn’t need to hear my response a second time before he quickly pulled out of me and brought my face down to his cock before thrusting into it.

I flattened my tongue to give Lando more clearance to fuck my throat at a merciless pace while he chased his orgasm. Once Lando’s hips stuttered and he knew he was about to spurt his cum down my throat, he grabbed the back of my head, pulling me impossibly closer to him so his cock was angled down my throat at he continued to fuck my face. It wasn’t long before I felt the hot spurts of Land’s cum glide down my throat, I couldn’t enjoy it as much as I wanted to because all I could think about was air. I hadn’t been in this position long but my airway was completely blocked off and I felt like I was going to pass out.

When Lando finally pulled back with a string of saliva being the only thing still attaching us to one another, I was able to gasp for air as I swallowed the remainder of his cum that was barely spurting out of his swollen head as he was pulled out.

Lando cupped my face and stared at me in silence for a few seconds before talking, “Did I go too hard?”

A little giggle left my lips. Even in his dirtiest of moments, Lando was always a gentleman and one to make sure that he didn’t overstep any boundaries in the process.

“M’fine, I couldn’t breathe for a second but it was hot” I said as I bit my bottom lip

“Fuckkk, you’re so hot” Lando said as he pulled me in for a kiss, tasting himself on my tongue as he tried to devour me while trying to get ready for round 2.

A knock at the door is what halted Lando’s movements “podiums are in 5 mate, we need you out here to celebrate me!” a male voice, who we made out to be Oscar could be heard from the other side of the door

Before pulling himself completely off of me, Lando wrapped a hand around the back of mt head and pulled me close to whisper in my ear

“Rest up now because when we get back to the hotel, you’re not getting sleep tonight.”

-

Sorry this is shit. I wanted to give you something before I knocked tf out.

If you enjoyed please like, comment, reblog and follow! I really appreciate all the love and support I’ve been getting!

-

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan

[aduckinpain]

I know.

Tags: Landoscar, Twinklaren, Oscar going through it, especially with that Brazil GP 2023, Hurt/Comfort, Character Analysis, Lando and Oscar end up together, in depth look into the quiet child experience, I know it personally.

Word Count: 1.5k

This work is also on AO3 under user roianamustang (me).

It’s always running, sprinting. It keeps on falling, tripping. It stumbles, gets back up, looks around, it moves. It never stops moving.

For all of his 22 years on this Earth, Oscar’s mind has never been quiet. Not like he is.

He’s heard the remarks, even agreed with some of them.

Since he was a child, he remembers his mother being continuously praised on what a quiet, calm kid she had. He remembers his father being teased for how his son was not rowdy or mischievous. He remembers his sisters’ friends describing him as mysterious and cool, unassuming.

Now with his life on full display at McLaren, he reads on how unemotional, unenthusiastic he seems. He reads and he stays quiet.

He observes, he reflects. Eyes unblinking and the air still around him. Like it always seems to be.

I know.

From an outsider’s point of view, he can understand. He can see why people's opinions of him are what they are. Putting himself in people’s shoes has always come as second nature to Oscar. It was getting out of those shoes that seemed to be the problem.

Sympathizing, empathizing, understanding he can do. Observation has been his strongest skill and it has sharpened over the years.

Yet, it seems, other people can never do it for him. They can never get it right. It doesn’t seem like they’ll start getting it now or any time soon. Sometimes it feels like they won’t ever get it, even in the far future.

Do I know? 

Little footsteps echoed in his mother’s shadow around the place. It’s the loudest he’s been. Oscar looks around, wide-eyed, intrigued, curious. Always taking things in. But they never seem to be able to get out.

I learn. 

Sleep.

Sleep is a favorite activity of his. It had his mother concerned when he was but a young boy, come up to him about it. Ask him. Ponder. Assume.

Oscar doesn’t think he will ever get over his mothers face looking confused, conflicted when he told her.

His brain jumps, it flies. If it couldn’t catch something, it would find another thing. His brain ran itself thin, it crouched, it needed sleep.

‘That’s not normal.’ his mom had said.

Recommended taking a break. Recommended letting himself breathe. Recommended to stop.

‘It’s not healthy.’ She’d pressed.

I know. 

When his hands touched the karting wheel, time didn’t stop. To be fair, it actually only seemed to go slower. He hadn’t done this before. Things he hasn't done or tried yet, aren't perfected. He shouldn’t expect results. Keep your expectations low, so they're either met or pleasantly surpassed.

That’s why it was unexpected, uncalculated. He pressed the pedal, he gripped the wheel, he didn't blink, he passed the first kid. Then the next one. Then the next, and the next and it just kept on going. He felt the wind, he saw the turns, he heard the noise.

He felt. He felt and it stopped. He felt and didn’t bolt from it. Didn’t run it dry, didn’t analyze. Didn’t think.

His heart beat loudly, resounding through his body. Echoing in his ears.

Yet.

It was quiet.

He won, and he kept on winning and he didn’t seem to be able to stop.

Satisfaction thrummed through his veins and entered his head. Lingering, altering.

I know now.

After a while the inevitable happened. He grew, things became more important. They required thinking. They required analyzing, observing, seeing. It was a trained response, Oscar knew what to do. He moved on autopilot. He slept.

But he craved. Craved the silence. It seemed to slip away the higher he went.

He can make sacrifices, he understands.

I know.

Do I?

Alpine was loud. Alpine was deafening and emotional. Alpine made Oscar feel, but not in the way he wanted to.

He felt but his mind raced faster. He felt but it didn’t feel exhilarating. He felt but he didn’t overtake, he didn’t take off.

He froze.

He felt and he couldn’t stop thinking.

The sacrifice would have been in vain. The silence lost, for nothing. What was the point of doing this, if at the very least his hard-earned success didn’t get him where he wanted? If his freshly departed sacrifice, felt like a freshly opened wound?

His F2 Championship was everything he wanted. But what about everything he wished?

I don’t know, not anymore. 

Oscar figured out pretty soon that the root of his problem was his yearning. He yearned the quiet, he yearned the success. And for two years now, he longed for revenge. But he didn’t do things blaringly, not like Alpine.

He does them unexpectedly, or so it seems to others anyway.

For the first time in a long time. Oscar Piastri overtakes.

@OscarPiastri

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press release late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract with Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

8:00 PM · Aug 2, 2022

44.2K Reposts 50.7K Quotes 386K Likes 4,282 Bookmarks

I know again.

That being said, when your constant variable is overanalyzing, new environments don’t add well to the equation. New environments mean new people, new people mean new expectations.

New expectations mean a higher probability for error.

But he could do this. He worked for it, he fought for it. He sacrificed for it.

He itched for it.

I know. 

When you let your mind wander, it creates new pathways, new possibilities. Wandering allows for running and running in a forest means getting lost.

His newest forest, seems to be going by the name of a Lando Norris.

I found out. 

Lando was noise. Lando was the unachievable. More years of experience meant more years of achievements. Lando was his closest teammate and his hardest rival.

But, as days passed, comfort became Lando.

Security transformed into Lando.

Silence translated to Lando. Not in Lando himself, no, of course not. To him. To Oscar.

Lando spoke and Oscar listened.

Lando asked and Oscar answered.

Lando touched and Oscar leaned.

Lando moved and Oscar followed.

Lando stopped and Oscar stopped.

I always knew. 

The year had started slow, but by God did it pick up the pace. It just needed some time to warm up those soft compound tyres. Just like Lando, who helped Oscar get more comfortable. With the car. With the team. With the new upgrades, the suddenly incessant meetings. With his ability to put in his input and have it be taken into consideration.

With Lando.

The better they got, the more media work they did. While in the past, Oscar may have dreaded it, he’s grown to like it.

The more media work they did, whether they noticed it or not, the closer they got. Bonded.

At the time Oscar hadn't noticed—something that doesn't just happen, that for the first time ever, he was the one being analyzed, looked into. Someone was getting in his shoes, and they seemed dead set on not leaving.

Without realizing it, Lando had become fresh air, first podiums, bright days, calm nights, quiet thoughts, content. Oscar felt content. His brain didn’t run, it walked, it discovered. It felt but it was ok.

I stumbled upon the discovery. 

The heat was unbearable, yes, exhausting. But it didn’t matter, because he had done it. He has proved it. He met the expectations, in fact he can confidently say he has surpassed them.

He spilled the water on his head, felt it go through each individual strand of hair, down his back, onto his hands. He felt exhilarated.

Was it the water or the newly discovered heaviness of a gaze?

I know who it was.

He spilled the champagne at Lando on that podium, let it flow down the ridges of his back, the smile on his face, the hands clutching the bottle, the curls shining under the night lights. Grinned at it, laughed with it. Enjoyed it.

Did he say champagne?

He meant his own eyes.

Trailing. Following.

I knew. 

The first brush of lips was soft. It was a question, a request for permission.

Just like in his newly rediscovered passion for racing, winning, Oscar didn’t think. He felt. He acted. He nodded.

The first press of lips was gradual, tentative, exploring.

He sighed. He melted. He pulled.

Safety feels warm. Comfort feels free. Being understood feels like losing control, but you’re still holding the reins.

He’d always wanted a weighted blanket. Guess there was no need for that anymore when you have a lap full of Lando.

They laid down. With hands combing through his locks and lips brushing on his forehead, Oscar allowed himself to let go.

His eyes dropped. He felt warmth on the top of his head, around his body, encasing his heart. He felt and it was ok.

Nothing was sacrificed. It was planted, watered over the years. Waited for the seasons to change.

Until it bloomed, blossomed.

And this time Oscar slept and woke up feeling rested.

The view certainly helped.

I’ll know.

-End-

Notes:

I'll analyze all of the 'I know' and their versions:

1) I know, Oscar is well aware of how he seems to people and their opinions of him. He can't do much to change them, cause he can't do much to change himself. This is who he is. Besides they are wrong. He feels so much, it tends to get overwhelming.

2) Do I know?, Being highly empathetic with people allows you to see every aspect and reason for their actions or reactions, however most people don't do this. Their main focus is themselves, other people come second and so on. It feels like putting in the effort but never having any effort being put in you.

3) I learn, children are curious and their minds act like sponges. No matter how small they are they will understand and remember everything.

4) I know, Oscar is self-aware enough to know that thinking so much it physically makes you tired is not the usual. He can't just stop though, it's how he functions. This is directly taken from a personal experience with this same conversation.

5) I know now, he knew right then and there that racing would be his freedom, his life.

6) I know.

Do I?, Is he ready to make these sacrifices? Is he willing to put in the work? Is it worth it? Is racing what he wants for his future? These are all insinuated questions he asks himself.

7) I don't know, not anymore, Alpine was even more doubt and wait. Waiting made the doubt linger and never leave. The future seemed bleaker. The sacrifices worthless.

8) I know again, Oscar found a purpose, a reason to continue.

9) I know, there's no more time for waiting or hesitance. He figured out how these things work now. You push forward. There is no time for second guessing.

10) I found out, something new, unexpected. Lando himself.

11) I always knew, was it actually new and unexpected or was it exactly what he was waiting for?

12) I stumbled upon the discovery, Oscar's whole thing is the need for quiet, for his brain to just stop for a second. It used to be racing that gave him that feeling and while it is slowly returning, it seems to not be the only thing that has that affect on him. There seems to be something, or someone else too.

13) I know who it was, it was Lando's gaze spilling down his back. Mapping Oscar on that podium.

14) I knew, it was his own gaze, spilling down Lando's. Gazing.

15) I'll know, he doesn't have to think, to analyze. Let the future be unknown. If he wants to, he can make it happen. With Lando there, it is assured, safe

Please note that no matter how much I am writing here, it is all artistic speculation of what Oscar himself has decided to show the world. Do not forget that these drivers are real people.

I wrote this after my own personal experience. I find Oscar incredibly familiar and relatable. It doesn't help that I look enough like him that the merge filter on TikTok refuses to merge me with him specifically.

Thank you so much for the dividers to @cafekitsune and @saradika ! They are so pretty!

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot if I managed to get some comments or reposts!

I have another story with Lestappen (Charles Leclerc x Max Verstappen), called 'Stop, but not forever, that I posted some days ago. If you like this please go and support that as well! It can be found on my Masterlist, at the Formula 1 one.

[maxtermind]

something based on ‘casual’ by chapell roan or ‘sharpest tool’ by sabrina carpenter with f1 drivers 🥹🥹🥹🥹

is it casual now?

★ : summary :: when you mistake your fuckbuddy for a lover ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: ANGST; no hea; kinda smutty ★ : word count:: 6.1k+ ★ : a/n:: im afraid there will be no part 2s to this.. the premise of the song is a vicious cycle so NO happy endings!! hope y/n was smart enough to get him tested and use protection yikes.

MAX VERSTAPPEN

“then, baby, get me off again.”

You watched with hazy eyes as Max moved above you, his body pressing into yours with a rhythm that left you gasping, begging for breath. The pulse under your wrist raced in time with his movements, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break through your ribs. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin with a desperation that had your mind spinning.

Every time he thrust back into you, it sent a shockwave of pleasure rippling through your body, making your back arch a bit more. You could feel it building, the tension between you teetering on the edge of something explosive.

“Fuck, b-baby,” Max growled, voice thick and raw, the sound of it sending shivers up your spine, making your blood hum. His breath was ragged, his eyes locked onto yours, dark with need as if he was barely holding himself together.

Your heart raced even faster, chest tightening, and you bit your lip, smirking as you shifted slightly running your finger across your lip, driving his attention back to the deep red lipstick you knew was driving him wild. His gaze flicked down, his pupils dilating as he caught sight of it, and you saw the way his breath hitched, his body faltering for just a moment as he fought to keep control.

“That fucking lipstick…” he groaned, the words half-muttered, half-moan, and you could feel his grip tighten on you, his fingers pressing harder into your skin.

Your head was spinning, legs shaky beneath his weight, every nerve in your body alive with sensation as you dragged your nails down his back. “Ins-inside me, Max,” you whispered, your voice a breathless challenge.

The words seemed to push him over the edge, his finger on your clit flattered, his pace becoming erratic as he thrust into you one last time, his entire body tensing as he came undone. The sensation of him finally letting go pulled you under, your own release hitting you in waves so intense it left you trembling beneath him, vision hazy.

For a moment, everything was quiet, the room filled only with the sound of your labored breathing. Your body was heavy, every limb buzzing as you lay there in the afterglow, Max collapsing beside you, his arm still draped over your waist. You turned your head to look at him, the lazy, satisfied smile on your lips reflecting the warmth spreading through your chest.

“That was…” you started, voice soft and shaky, your heart still racing. You couldn’t find the words to finish, but the look in your eyes said enough. It was perfect. It was everything.

Max chuckled, low and rough, turning his head to meet your gaze. “Yeah, baby, it was,” his thumb brushing lightly across your hip, grounding you in the moment. For a second, it felt like nothing could shatter this— like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Then his phone buzzed.

The sharp sound sliced through the room, breaking the intimacy in an instant. You watched as Max reached for it without hesitation, his movements almost casual, but there was something about the way his body shifted- just a little too quickly- that sent a shiver down your spine. Your stomach clenched, heart dropping as you felt that familiar knot of uncertainty begin to form.

You didn’t say anything at first, trying to ignore the tension building in your chest, but when you saw the way his eyes refused to meet yours, how he turned the screen away from you slightly as he checked the message, you couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

“Who’s that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but he could hear the edge of insecurity in your tone. Your heart hammered in your chest, blood rushing to your ears as you waited for his response, hoping it wouldn’t be what you feared.

Max glanced at you, too casually, placing the phone down without really answering. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice light, but it felt forced, like he wasn’t taking this seriously. He tried to brush it off, turning back to you with a small smile. “Just a friend.”

Your stomach dropped. The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, your whole body felt cold, legs unsteady as you sat up in bed. Your mind raced, the warmth from moments ago replaced by a growing sense of dread. You knew this feeling all too well, the doubt creeping in and wrapping around your heart like a vice.

“A friend?” you echoed, barely able to keep your voice steady as the room spun slightly. Your fingers gripped the sheets tightly, trying to anchor yourself. “What’s just a friend, huh?”

Max sighed, clearly not wanting to have this conversation. “Come on, Y/N, it’s not a big deal,” he said, his tone frustratingly calm. “You know how it is.”

But you didn’t know how it was. Not really. Each beat of your heart sent waves of anger and hurt crashing through you, blood rushing so loud in your ears you could barely hear him. “What do you mean, ‘not a big deal?’” you asked, your voice shaking as your breath quickened. 

You could feel your throat tighten, the sting of tears threatening to form behind your eyes, but you fought them back. You needed answers. This game of guessing and hoping was getting old now.

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable now, as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here, dealing with this, dealing with you. “Y/N, we’re not together,” he said, finally, his words blunt, like a slap across the face.

Your world tilted. You froze, unable to process his words for a moment, your chest tightening so painfully it felt like you might not be able to breathe. We’re not together. We’re not together. We’re not together. We’re n- The sentence echoed in your mind again and again, each word hitting harder than the last.

Your vision blurred as you pushed the sheets off your legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, standing on shaky legs that barely supported you. The room felt like it was spinning, and you had to steady yourself against the wall as you tried to hold it together.

“We’re not together?” you repeated, voice barely audible. You felt your heart break in real time, the cracks forming so fast it left you breathless. It was useless, this was all useless but our mouth wouldn’t shut up. “So what the hell have we been doing, Max? What am I to you?”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, just a fleeting second, you thought you saw a flicker of guilt cross his face, but then it was gone, replaced by indifference. “It’s just laid back between us,” he said, his voice still maddeningly calm. “Don’t make it more than that.”

Your blood turned to ice, legs almost giving out beneath you. That’s all it was to him. Just fun. You felt sick, a cold wave of nausea rolling over you as your chest tightened, the weight of it making it hard to breathe. You had let yourself believe you meant something more to him, that this connection wasn’t ‘laid back.’

You swallowed hard, fighting the tears that were now almost on the verge of falling. “I can’t do this,” you said, voice barely steady, as you started grabbing your clothes from the floor, your fingers trembling. “I’m not just s-some girl.. I’m not a laid back girl.”

Max sighed, standing up and running a hand through his messy hair. “Y/N, come on, don’t do this,” he said, but there was no urgency in his voice. No real concern. Just a tired resignation, like he’d been through this before ample times and for once, you knew that he has.

Screw your heart for hoping for something better though. You slipped on your shoes, moving toward the door with legs that felt like they could give out at any second, nodding your head as you tried to make sense of what exactly was happening.

As your hand reached for the door handle, you heard him say your name. There was a slight panic in his voice now, but it was too late. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t be the girl who stayed.

Without turning around, you stepped into the hallway, letting the door close behind you. But as soon as the elevator doors shut, trapping you inside, the sobs came. You pressed your back against the cool metal, sliding down to the floor as your legs gave out beneath you, the weight of it all crashing down at once. Your heart was shattered, your mind spinning as you tried to make sense of what had just happened. You had meant nothing to him. Nothing. It was just cruel of him to confirm it instead of comforting you.

Two days later, you stood in front of the mirror in your bathroom, the events of that night replaying in your mind on an endless loop.

Your phone buzzed on the counter. You glanced down, seeing his name flash across the screen. Your heart skipped a beat, fingers trembling as you picked it up, the pain still fresh.

You good?

You worked in a haste after that, applying your makeup robotically, working off of muscle memory. till suddenly your handstopped. The lipstick suspended just above your lips. The question seemed so casual, so empty. After everything that had happened, all he could do was leave a text?

Your chest still ached, your eyes red from crying, but your hands were steady as you applied the deep red lipstick that had always drove him crazy. You stared at your reflection, the bright red color a sharp contrast to your pale, tear-stained skin. You felt hollow inside, but you were determined not to show it.

You took a deep breath, staring at yourself in the mirror, and then put the phone down without responding, finishing your lipstick with a steady hand. You didn’ have to text him back to let him know that you were coming over.

LEWIS HAMILTON

“and i try to be the chill girl, that holds her tongue and gives you space, i try to be the chill girl.”

The bathroom was colder than you expected, the chill from the tiles seeping into your skin as you leaned against the sink, your heart racing with anticipation. You gave your reflection a quick once-over, fixing your hair and adjusting the neckline of your dress.

You felt pretty, wanted, and the night felt like it could be perfect—the first real date with Lewis. It wasn’t some glamorous dinner, but he’d asked you out, and that was enough to send butterflies fluttering through your chest.

With one last deep breath, you stepped out of the bathroom and made your way back toward the bar. But as you approached, the sound of his voice- low, smooth, flirtatious- stopped you in your tracks. Your stomach twisted, the butterflies quickly turning into a knot of dread.

“I can’t believe someone like you is single,” Lewis said, his tone dripping with charm, the kind of charm that had reeled you in not so long ago.

Your steps flattered as your feet stopped moving, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears. You moved closer, just enough to peek around the corner, and there he was. Your Lewis, leaning against the bar, his body angled toward a blonde woman sitting beside him. She was smiling, twirling her hair around her finger, her laughter light and flirtatious. And he wasn’t just letting her do it—he was engaging, smiling that same smile that used to make you feel special.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched her lean in closer, her fingers brushing against his arm. He didn’t move away. He didn’t stop her. Instead, he laughed, that deep, charming laugh that you had fallen for, and replied to something that woman had said, “Maybe I just haven’t met the right girl yet.”

It made you want to throw up.

It was a punch to the gut. Your legs felt weak, your head pounding so hard you thought it might burst. You swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotions bubbling up inside you under control. Be cool, be chill. You weren’t going to make a scene. Not here, not now. You were supposed to be the girl who didn’t get jealous, who didn’t lose her cool.

But fuck, it was killing you inside. Lewis was killing you.

Taking a deep breath, you walked over, forcing a smile even though your entire body felt like it was on fire with hurt and jealousy. As you approached, Lewis glanced up and spotted you, his expression shifting for just a moment- was that guilt?- before the charm was back. “Hey,” he said, sliding his arm around your waist firmly, like nothing was wrong.

The blonde woman blinked in surprise, glancing between you and Lewis, clearly caught off guard. “Oh… I didn’t realize you were with someone,” she said, her voice uncertain now, her smile faltering.

Lewis smiled, a little too nonchalant for your liking. “This is Y/N,” he said, his hand still resting on your waist, burning into your skin through the clothes. “She’s just a friend.”

Your throat felt tight, the words hitting you like ice water. Just a friend. The knot in your stomach tightened painfully, but you forced a smile, trying to hold it together. You nodded at the woman, just to acknowledge her.

It was not her fault but fuck you hated her and how pretty she was. Of course, Lewis was picking her over you. You could feel your throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to blur your vision, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him or her.

The bartender, who had been quietly pouring drinks nearby, glanced at you with a look that made you want to disappear. She looked uncomfortable, like she had just witnessed something she wasn’t supposed to. “Can I get you something?” she asked, clearing her throat, her voice a little awkward.

You shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. You needed to get away, to breathe, but you couldn’t move, your legs rooted to the spot as Lewis gave the blonde one last charming smile before turning back to you.

“You good?” he asked, his tone too casual, as if he hadn’t just flirted with someone else right in front of you. His arm tightened around your waist, and you felt like you were going to explode.

Your pulse quickened, blood rushing in your ears as your mind raced. You wanted to scream, to ask him how he could do this, but instead, you bit your tongue, forcing yourself to stay calm. You were supposed to be the chill girl. The one who didn’t make a scene.

“I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything else.

The blonde, sensing the awkward tension, quickly excused herself, slipping away into the crowd. You watched her go, the hurt bubbling up inside you so fast it made you feel dizzy. You turned to face Lewis, your chest tight with the weight of everything you weren’t saying.

“Really?” you asked despite every nerve in your body begging you not to, your voice trembling slightly despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “Just a friend?”

Lewis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly not wanting to deal with this right now. “Come on, darling, don’t be like this,” he said, his tone light, dismissive, like this wasn’t a big deal. Like you weren’t a big deal.

Your heart twisted painfully, but you forced yourself to keep your voice calm. “You invited me out tonight. We were supposed to spend time together, and I come back and you’re flirting with someone else?”

He shrugged, his expression indifferent. “I was just being friendly. It’s not like we’re together or anything.”

Those words sent a sharp pain shooting through your chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You stared at him, your heart sinking, feeling like the floor had just dropped out from under you. Not together. The truth of it hit you like a slap to the face.

You swallowed hard, the sting of tears burning behind your eyes. “Then what are we doing, Lewis?” you asked, your voice small, almost pleading. “Because I’m not just here to be another girl you take out for fun.”

He sighed again, looking away like he was bored with the conversation already. “We’re having fun, Y/N. Why do you have to make it more complicated than that?”

Your heart broke a little more with every word, but you refused to cry. You refused to let him see how much this was hurting you. “I’m not asking for much,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “I just… I thought maybe this was more than just casual.”

Lewis looked at you then, really looked at you, you expecting something- anything, love, affection, misery— hell just regret would’ve worked too. However, you got nothing but a dismissal. “I do like you, Y/N. But you know that I’m not looking for anything serious.”

The final nail in the coffin. Your breath caught in your throat, and you had to look away, your vision blurring as the tears finally threatened to spill over. You felt like you were crumbling from the inside out, but you couldn’t let him see that. You had to hold it together, at least until you were out of here.

“I see,” you whispered, nodding as you tried to swallow the pain, blinking rapidly.

Lewis reached for your hand, his touch warm but not comforting anymore. “Look, I’ll take you home if you want. Or… we can head back to mine. It’s up to you.”

Your heart stuttered, the decision hanging heavily between you. So that’s what today was about? He was giving you an out, a chance to walk away from this before it hurt even more. But deep down, you knew you weren’t ready to let go. You weren’t ready to walk away from the hope, no matter how small, that maybe, just maybe, things could change.

So you nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Your place sounds nice.”

The words felt like a betrayal to yourself, but you couldn’t take them back now. As Lewis led you toward the exit, you glanced back at the bartender, who watched you with a look that seemed to say I’m sorry. But you weren’t sure if she was sorry for what she’d witnessed, or for the fact that you were still walking out with him.

Either way, it didn’t matter. Because tonight, you had again chosen heartbreak over being alone.

CARLOS SAINZ

“i know what you tell your friends, baby, get me off again.”

As you sat on the edge of Carlos’ childhood bed, strapping on your heels, the warm glow of his family’s home lingered in your mind. The day had been a whirlwind of laughter and warmth, filled with his mother’s delicious cooking and moments that made you feel like you truly belonged. You felt hopeful, almost giddy as you shared dessert with his sisters, swapping stories and jokes.

It was a stretch, you knew but the smile wouldn’t get off of your face, imagining a future where you were part of this family.

But now, as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, the reflection staring back felt fragile. The soft makeup you had carefully applied that morning seemed like a mask, hiding the anxiety brewing inside. Your heart raced as you replayed the events of the evening—how comfortable it had been to be with them, how easy it was to laugh and connect.

Just as you finished adjusting your dress, you heard Carlos’ voice float down the hallway, mingled with his sister’s. You froze, your heart sinking as you listened intently.

“Did you really bring her here thinking it wasn’t serious?” his sister’s voice was sharp, filled with disbelief.

“Can you just drop it?” Carlos replied, his tone a mix of irritation and indifference. “It’s not like that with us.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, a chill running down your spine. It’s not like that with us. The words echoed in your mind, slicing through the warm memories of the evening, leaving only the cold sting of reality.

“She’s so sweet, Carlos. You’re just going to let her think there’s something more?” his sister pressed, concern etched in her voice. You felt thankful, maybe not every single person in this family was heartless after all.

“Not that it concerns you but it’s casual,” he said dismissively. “We’re not together, so just… let it go.”

Your heart dropped at his words, the sound of laughter from earlier now feeling like a cruel joke. You had let yourself believe that maybe this was something real, that you meant more to him than just a passing fling. But hearing him brush off your feelings so easily made you feel sick.

Fueled by anger and hurt, you stood up, shaking off the numbness that threatened to overtake you. You walked down the hallway, heart pounding in your chest, determined to confront him.

As you stepped into the living room, the cheerful atmosphere felt suffocating, his sister was nowhere to be found, probably leaving after her brother’s disgustig actions. 

“Carlos!” you called, cutting through the silence like a knife. He turned, surprised, and you could see the tension in his shoulders as he faced you.

“Hey, ready to go?” he asked, his voice casual, but you could see the flicker of doubt in his eyes. He knew why you were looking at him in disbelief and he did not know why it made his heart hurt.

You took a deep breath, forcing the words out. “Is this really just casual for you?” Your voice wavered but held an edge of steel.

“You were listening to us?” His expression hardened slightly, reason untold but he didn’t lose his cool, shrugging off with indifference. “You know what I mean. We’re not serious, and you can’t expect me to change that.”

“Why not?” you shot back, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “I spent the entire day with your family, Carlos! I laughed, I connected—I felt like I was part of something. And you’e just shrugging it off like it’s nothing?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you pressed on, needing him to hear you. “You brought me here, made me feel welcomed, and then you act like I’m just some random fling. Do you even realize how that feels?”

Carlos’ eyes softened for a moment, but then he crossed his arms, a defensive gesture. “I didn’t mean for you to get the wrong idea. You know I like having you around.”

“Like?” The word slipped from your lips like a bitter pill, body shuddering. “Is that all it is to you? Just something you ‘like’?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he replied, his voice steady but distant. This was not the carlos you fell for, this wasn’t your carlos or maybe you were just blind. “I’m not ready for something serious.”

You shook your head, frustration boiling over. “You’re not even trying, Carlos. You keep me at arm’s length and expect me to just accept that? You seriously need to figure out what you want.”

He stared at you, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you two. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he wrestled with your words.You knew now that you were wrong to think that he set up this family lunch to introduce you to the family. He was just a clueless asshole in denial of his feelings.

“Maybe I don’t want to figure it out,” he said finally, his voice low. “Maybe I just want to enjoy what we have without any pressure.”

You scoffed, the pain in your chest feeling like it might burst. “Enjoying something doesn’t mean it has to be casual! It feels like I’m just a placeholder for you, and that’s not fair!”

Carlos opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read—was it regret? Or was it the realization that you were right?

You stood there, heart pounding, waiting for him to say something, anything. The seconds stretched painfully, each tick of the clock echoing your unspoken feelings.

Finally, you broke the silence. “You know what? I deserve more than this half-hearted relationship. I’ve been here, waiting for you to reach half way while you hold back.”

His eyes softened further, and he stepped closer, but you held your ground. “Don’t. Just… don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I can’t keep doing this if you can’t even acknowledge what we have.”

With that, you slipped away from his reach, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. You didn’t want to give in to the hurt, but it was too late.

As you walked out to the car, you felt the weight of his gaze on your back, and though you wanted to turn around, to see if he would follow you, you held firm. You had to reclaim your own heart, even if it meant letting go of the warmth that had just started to blossom.

Inside the car, you tried to steady your breath, the silence heavy and charged. You were tired of the uncertainty, tired of being treated like an option.

But as Carlos drove you both back to his apartment, you felt a flicker of something deep inside— a stubborn resolve to protect your heart, even if it meant walking away from him but the need to not let whatever you had of him leave.

So you kept your mouth shut, glad that he didn’t drive to your place to drop you off. That he was still taking you back to his. You deserved more, but maybe, just maybe, tomorrow.

CHARLES LECLERC

“knee deep in the passenger seat, and you're eating me out. is it casual now?”

The warm glow of the restaurant enveloped you as you sat across from Charles, the flickering candlelight casting playful shadows on his handsome face. You were supposed to be enjoying a nice dinner, but the tension crackling between you two had already shifted the mood.

It started innocently enough—Charles's playful banter and the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed made your heart race. But as the night wore on, it took a sharp turn when the waiter, a tall guy with an easy smile, casually slipped his number on a napkin and handed it to you. You could feel the weight of Charles’s gaze burn into you, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance.

“Seriously?” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s that about?”

You rolled your eyes, a smirk dancing on your lips. “’s just a number, Charles. Chill out.”

But he wasn’t chilling out, far from it. “Yeah, right. Like you’d really call him,” he muttered, his voice tight. You could see the jealousy simmering beneath his cool exterior, and a part of you enjoyed it—a small thrill surged through you knowing he cared.

“Relax. It’s harmless,” you replied, but he cut you off, leaning in closer as he spoke over your explanation, his tone sharp. “It’s not harmless when he’s acting like you’re available.”

You took a sip of your drink, trying to mask your amusement. His jealousy was almost cute, and you couldn’t help the flutters all over your body, knowing you could get a reaction out of him. But the moment was fleeting, as he suddenly stood up and grabbed your hand, his grip firm but urgent.

“Let’s get out of here,” he declared, pulling you towards the exit before you could protest. The restaurant faded into the background as he led you outside, his body radiating heat and tension.

Once you reached the car, he didn’t waste a moment. He pushed you into the backseat, his lips crashing against yours with a desperate intensity. The world outside disappeared as you got lost in the way he kissed you, each movement igniting the familiar fire between you.

“Ruined my mood, baby,” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot and heavy. You could feel the pulse of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the thrill of being caught up in this reckless moment. “Make it up to me now.”

Your vigorous nods made him smirk. But just as you were losing yourself in the heat of it all, Charles shifted his focus. He slid down, his mouth trailing down your body, kissing a path along your thighs, a gasp leaving your lips. 

He made quick work of your clothes before spanking your poor clit, gathering the click. “So wet already, dirty girl.” You moaned softly, arching your back against the seat, your fingers tangling in his hair as he worked his magic.

Yet, amidst the bliss, a flicker of something gnawed at you. He was grumbling under his breath, murmuring words that didn’t quite register at first. “Hope he sees me in between your legs” he muttered, and your heart skipped a beat, a chuckle about to leave your lips.

Suddenly, our foot made contact with Charles- painfully hard- crotch over the clothes and he threw his head back. Nothing could ruin this moment, or so you thought because then you heard it… he name of another girl, whispered low and almost too soft to catch. “Ella…”

Your world shattered in an instant. All the pleasure, all the excitement, evaporated like steam on glass. The warmth that had enveloped you turned cold, leaving you in a frozen moment of realization. Your heart sank as a wave of betrayal washed over you, crashing down with a force that took your breath away.

The name echoed in your mind, each syllable twisting like a knife. All those moments spent in his arms, all the laughter and shared secrets, felt meaningless in the wake of those four letters. The joy you had felt moments ago was replaced with a deep, gnawing pain.

But instead of pushing him away, you took a deep breath, fighting against the urge to crumble. Don’t let it show. Just ignore it for your sake.

“Charles,” you said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. You were still here, still caught up in this mess. “Focus on me, okay?”

He looked up, his expression hazy for a moment, the desire in his eyes flickering back to life as he nodded. You didn’t want to show him how much that name hurt. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten under your skin.

So you pushed the hurt aside, letting the pleasure wash over you again. You gripped his hair tighter, pulling him back to you, trying to ignore the bitterness in your throat. “Just… just forget about it,” you murmured, your voice barely a whisper.

His lips returned to lips, and for a moment, the world around you faded away once more. You let him kiss you deeply, your heart racing with conflicting emotions. You were here, and he was here with you, and that had to count for something, right?

The tension still lingered, the reminder of ‘Ella,��� echoing in the back of your mind, but you buried it deep, clinging to the heat and the pleasure as if it could erase everything else. You were determined to enjoy this moment, even if it was tainted with uncertainty.

As he moved against you, the line between pleasure and pain blurred, and you surrendered to the chaos of it all. You could be casual, you could be carefree—even if it meant pretending everything was fine when deep down, you knew it was anything but.

LANDO NORRIS

“it’s hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser.”

The dim light from the early morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You lay in Lando’s bed, your head resting on the pillow just inches from his, his arm draped lazily over your body. His breathing was slow and steady, completely at peace. He was asleep, unbothered, while your heart raced, your mind spinning in a thousand directions.

You chose to stare up at the ceiling instead, feeling the emotional high from earlier fading away into something much darker. The night had been passionate, the kind of heat between you two that made you forget, for just a moment, that this wasn’t real. But now, as his warmth settled into the sheets, you were wide awake, the weight of reality crashing down on you.

This isn’t love. The thought hit you like a brick to the chest. The warmth of his arm around you, the way his body curled protectively against yours—it all felt so right, so intimate, but deep down, you knew better. This wasn’t love. This was just another night. For him.

You rolled away from him slowly, the ache in your chest growing unbearable as you slipped out from under his arm. The cool air of the room hit your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. You sat up, your legs dangling off the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, your hands trembling as you fought the urge to scream. Why do I keep doing this to myself?

You hated yourself for feeling used, for staying, even when you knew he didn’t feel the same. Every time you come back, you let yourself believe—just for a second—that maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time, you would wake up in his arms, and he’d look at you with something more than lust in his eyes.

But that moment never came, it never wil…

Tears stung at the back of your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to cry over this again. You needed to leave. Before he woke up, before he could see the mess inside your head, before you made a fool of yourself once more.

As you quietly gathered your clothes, something caught your eye. There, hanging out of his open closet door, was your favorite bra—the black lace one you thought you’d lost weeks ago. Your chest tightened, a strange mix of relief and unease washing over you. You stepped closer, reaching for it, but as your fingers brushed the delicate fabric, you froze.

There was another bra in there. One that wasn’t yours. Kept in his personal space like a fucking trophy.

The jealousy hit you like a lightning strike, scorching its way through your veins. Your stomach churned, your head spinning with the sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion. It wasn’t just the bra—it was everything. The confirmation that you weren’t the only one. That you were just another girl who left pieces of herself behind in his apartment.

Your hands shook as you stared at the unfamiliar piece of clothing, your mind racing with images of Lando, here in this bed, with someone else. All the nights you weren’t with him. All the mornings he woke up with her instead.

Why did you expect anything different? You knew what this was, didn’t you? You were supposed to be casual, nothing serious, just two people having fun. But seeing that other bra, knowing it didn’t belong to you- it shattered whatever illusion you had been holding onto.

Oh God.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you were scrambling back to the bed, desperate to be close to him again. You slid under the covers, pressing your body against his, your hand resting on his chest as if that could make everything feel okay. He stirred slightly, his arm instinctively pulling you back against him, his lips brushing your forehead in a sleepy kiss.

For a moment, you let yourself melt into his touch, pretending that you could belong here, that he could be yours.

But deep down, you knew the truth. You could only have him if you played the part—if you pretended to be okay with being casual. If you could be the girl who didn’t ask for more, who didn’t get jealous, who didn’t care if there was another bra in his closet.

As his breathing evened out again, you closed your eyes, willing yourself to believe that maybe this could be enough. That as long as you stayed, as long as you kept pretending, he could be yours. Even if it was only for moments like this.

Even if it was nothing more than a lie you told yourself.

Because being his- even in this twisted, half-real way- felt better than being without him.

And if playing the part of the dumb lover was the price you had to pay, you would. For as long as you could bear it.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[papayanorrisxx]

Summary: It was the Silverstone GP, and you were invited by The years continue, and you watch the race drivers come and go. New generations take to the track, and some even remind you of Lando - a wild streak to their driving, a cheeky smile, a hint of recklessness in their eyes. It's in these moments that you feel closest to him - when you see his passion for racing live on in a new generation of drivers. the McLaren team to support your best friend, Lando Norris, at his home race. The atmosphere was electric as Lando dominated the track, leading the race by almost four seconds on lap 47. But in a heartbreaking twist, his aggressive driving caused him to lose grip, sending his car spinning into the barrier and bursting into flames.

Warnings: Graphic Injury Description, Major Character Death, Use of Y/N, Car Accident, Fire and Rescue, Medical Emergency, Emotional Distress, Romantic Confession, Mentions of Blood Loss, Physical Pain.

Note: Hi everyone! This is my very first fic/imagine, and I’m both excited and nervous to share it with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for taking the time to read my work, and I would love to hear your thoughts and feedback!

It was the Silverstone GP, and you was invited by the Mclaren team to support your best friend, Lando Norris, at his home race.

It was lap 47 and Lando was leading the race and was almost 4 seconds ahead of everyone.

He took the corners fast.

To fast.

He looses grip of the wheels and his car spins around, hits the barrier and the car crashes into pieces and sets on fire.

Everyone in the garage is silent, when his radio comes on:

“Arg.. a… t-tell h-h-her I love her-r”

You hear the call, and your heart skips a beat, instantly fearing the worst. You had to see him, and tell him your feelings before it was too late.

After a few moments, the firefighters finally managed to get the fire under control. Then, they take Lando out of his ruined car. Luckily, he was alive and awake, though he was bruised, bleeding and clearly in pain.

Lando is quickly put into the Medical Car and driven into the Medical Center.

You don't hesitate and run into the Centre, right behind Lando, ignoring everyone that tries to prevent you from going.

The medics place Lando on one of the beds and check on his condition. He's conscious and lucid, but very badly injured. His arms and legs are covered in deep scratches and cuts, his nose is bleeding heavily, and he's coughing up blood.

The medics are checking his vitals, and the doctor says that "He's stable, but he's lost a lot of blood."

Lando lies there, pale and shaken from shock and pain. He looks around and suddenly sees you, standing next to his bed. His eyes soften and he tries to smile, but it turns into a grimace of pain.

"Y/N," he croaks. "You're… here."

You take his hand and hold it firmly in yours.

"Of course I am, idiot," you choke out, your eyes filling with tears.

A weak smile tugs at his lips. "I guess.. I made quite a scene, huh?”

He winces and coughs, blood staining his chin.

You press a tissue to his chin, stemming the blood flow.

"Don't talk, stupid," you say, though your voice trembles. "You need to save your strength."

He lets out a soft chuckle before wincing again. "I must look like a mess, huh?"

The doctors and paramedics are still moving around him, checking his vitals and giving him painkillers.

"You look like a right idiot," you tease gently. "But you're still hot as hell."

Even though he's in pain, he laughs softly, wincing again. "Always know what to say, huh?"

"Yeah, well," you say, "someone's gotta tell you what an idiot you are."

You squeeze his hand, your heart aching at the sight of him so beaten up.

He looks more serious now, his voice a raspy whisper. "Y/N... Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," you answer, leaning closer. "You can ask me anything."

He lets out a shaky breath, his hand squeezing yours tightly. "I... I..." He coughs again, the effort clearly taking a toll on him. "I want... to... tell you something... important."

Tears well in your eyes, sensing the gravity of the moment. You gently stroke his hand, encouraging him to speak. "Go on," you say softly.

He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his strength. When he opens them again, his gaze is fixed on you, intense and unwavering. "Y/N... I... I love you. I've loved you for a long time. And I'm sorry it took an accident for me to finally say it."

Your breath catches in your throat, tears streaming down your face. You never dared to hope he felt the same way.

"Lando..." you whisper, your voice choked. "I... I love you too. I've loved you for so long..."

Despite the pain he is in, his face lights up with a mixture of relief and joy. "You do? Really?" He asks, as if he doesn't quite believe it.

You nod tearfully. "Yes, you idiot. Of course I do. I've been in love with you for years. You're all I think about, day and night."

His gaze softens, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Years, huh? I guess I was a bit oblivious, huh?"

He tries to chuckle again, but devolves into another coughing fit.

You gently shush him, wiping the blood from his chin again. "Stop it, you idiot," you say, your heart overflowing with love and worry. "You need to conserve your strength."

He nods weakly, the coughing subsiding. His eyes never leave yours, holding onto your hand like a lifeline. "I wish I could hold you right now," he murmurs, his voice hoarse.

"You will soon," you promise. "Just hang on for me. You'll be okay."

Your heart aches at the sight of him so vulnerable, but you also feel a wave of love and protectiveness wash over you.

"I'm scared," he admits so quietly you almost don't catch it. He swallows hard. "Everything hurts so much... I don't... I don't want to leave you."

Your heart breaks at his words. "You're not going to leave me," you say firmly, your own fear and worry bubbling up. "You're going to be fine. You're too stubborn to die on me. You hear me?"

He manages a weak grin. "Yeah, I'm pretty stubborn, aren't I? Lucky for you."

He closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Just... Just promise me... you won't leave me, okay? Stay with me. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere," you say fiercely, brushing some hair away from his forehead. "I'll stay right here, by your side, no matter what."

He lets out a shaky sigh of relief. "Thank you," he whispers. He opens his eyes, looking at you with all the vulnerability you've never seen in him before. "I love you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You squeeze his hand, your heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. "I love you too," you say again, your voice filled with tears. "We're going to get through this together, okay? You and me."

A single tear escapes the corner of his eye, and he nods. "You and me," he repeats hoarsely, clinging to your hand as if it's the only thing keeping him grounded.

You continue to hold his hand, offering him comfort and assurance. The sound of the medical personnel moving around the room, the beep of the monitors, and the low hum of the air conditioning fill the background.

Finally, a doctor approaches, a serious expression on his face. "We need to transfer him to the hospital now," he says. "Can you step aside, please?"

Reluctantly, you let go of Lando's hand, knowing he needs to be taken care of. The doctors move in, quickly attaching monitors and preparing him for transport.

You take a step back, watching as they carefully lift Lando onto a stretcher. His eyes find yours, pleading you not to leave.

You force a reassuring smile, your hand still outstretched towards him. "I'll meet you at the hospital," you say softly, your voice trembling.

Lando nods, his hand clenching around yours one more time before they wheel him out of the treatment room and to the waiting ambulance outside.

The ride to the hospital feels like an eternity. You follow the ambulance closely, anxiety coursing through your veins. The thought of losing Lando is too painful to bear.

When you finally arrive at the hospital, Lando is immediately taken to the Emergency Department. You are directed to the waiting area where other anxious families are waiting for news.

The hours crawl by, your mind consumed with worry and fear. The doctors and nurses come in and out, but they won't let you see Lando.

Finally, a doctor approaches you, a serious expression on his face. "Can I speak to you in private for a moment?" he asks.

Your heart sinks, fearing the worst. You nod wordlessly and follow the doctor to a quiet corner of the waiting area.

The doctor takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. "We've done everything we can for Lando," he begins, his voice solemn. "However, his condition is critical. The impact from the crash has caused severe internal bleeding and damage to his organs."

Your heart feels like it is being crushed as you struggle to comprehend the doctor's words. "But... but he's going to be fine, right?" you manage to ask, your voice trembling.

The doctor looks at you kindly, but his expression is filled with sorrow. "I'm afraid it's not looking good," he says gently. "We're doing everything possible to stabilize him, but the next few hours will be critical. There's a chance he may not make it."

Those words feel like a knife to the heart. You can't fathom a world without Lando, your friend, your love, your everything.

Tears stream down your face, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. "I need to see him," you whisper, your voice desperate. "Please, let me see him."

The doctor regards you for a moment, understanding the desperation in your voice. "I'll see what I can do," he says, "but I must warn you. He's in a very critical state, and it may be distressing for you to see him."

You nod, knowing that nothing can brace you for the sight of Lando in such dire condition.

The doctor leads you down a sterile hallway, the click of your footsteps echoing in your ears. The sound seems to mirror the beating of your heart, a mixture of fear and hope.

The doctor pushes open a heavy door, revealing a private room where Lando lies motionless on a bed surrounded by medical equipment. The steady beep of monitors, the sound of the ventilator, and the faint hiss of machines fill the room.

The sight of him is shocking. His face is pale and battered, tubes and wires connecting him to various machines. A large bandage covers his head, and there are numerous scratches and cuts on his exposed skin. The ventilator helps him breathe, pumping air into his lungs in a regular rhythm

A sob catches in your throat as you rush to his bedside, taking his hand in yours. It's ice-cold, a stark contrast to the warmth you're used to.

You brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers trembling. "Lando," you whisper, your voice breaking. "I'm here. I'm here, love."

There is no response, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest, each breath assisted by the ventilator.

You collapse into the chair beside his bed, your hand still holding his. The enormity of the situation floods over you, the fear and helplessness consuming you.

Hours pass, the only sound in the room the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and the steady hum of the ventilator. The doctors and nurses come in periodically to check on his vital signs, but each update is laced with the same ominous words.

Time seems to warp in this sterile room. The hours blend together, the waiting is endless, and the fear only grows stronger.

You refuse to leave Lando's bedside, your hand constantly holding his. Every now and then, you whisper words of love and encouragement to him, hoping that somewhere deep within his unconsciousness, he can hear you.

The doctors and nurses occasionally urge you to get some rest, but you shake your head stubbornly. You can't even think about leaving his side, even for a moment. The thought of missing something, of not being with him in his last moments, is unbearable

Night falls, the room now dimly lit only by the machines and the soft glow of the overhead light. You're sitting beside Lando, your eyes fixed on his still form.

Suddenly, the steady rhythm of the machines falters. The heart monitor begins to give erratic beeps, the line on the graph fluctuating wildly.

Panic seizes your heart, your grip on Lando's hand tightening. "Lando... Lando, no, please," you whisper, pleading with him to hold on.

Doctors and nurses burst into the room, urgently checking each of the monitors and machines attached to Lando.

They work frantically, adjusting dials and administering medications, but the heart monitor continues its erratic pattern. The atmosphere in the room is charged with tension and desperation.

One of the doctors looks at you, their eyes expressing a message you don't want to hear. They begin to prepare resuscitation equipment

"No," you whimper, clutching Lando's hand tightly. "No, he can't leave me. He can't. Lando, please, don't leave me."

The doctor approaches you, their expression compassionate but firm. "I'm so sorry," they say, their voice barely above a whisper. "You need to step back for a moment, please."

Reluctantly, you force yourself to release Lando's hand. Stepping back, you watch your world fall apart. The doctors and nurses rush into action, administering CPR and using the defibrillator in a desperate attempt to restart his heart.

The next few minutes are a blur, the room filled with the sounds of beeping machines, shouted orders, and the urgent voices of the doctors and nurses as they continue their resuscitation efforts.

Each passing second feels like an eternity. Your heart aches as you watch the doctors working, desperately trying to save Lando.

Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, one of the doctors looks at the heart monitor. The rapid, erratic beats begin to slow, replaced by a flat line, a grim confirmation of what you dread most.

The room falls silent, the only sound the steady beep of the heart monitor and the soft whir of the ventilator.

You stand frozen to the spot, your world collapsing around you, a wave of numbness washing over you. The doctors and nurses look at each other, their expressions heavy with sadness and sympathy.

The doctor walks towards you, a heavy sadness in their voice. "I'm so sorry," they say, their voice barely above a whisper. "He's gone."

A sharp,noise escapes from somewhere deep within you. It's a sound of unbearable pain, a sound of a heart breaking into fragments.

You stagger forward, reaching Lando's bedside. He lies there, pale and still, a shadow of the vibrant man you once knew. You reach out, your trembling fingertips tracing the features of his face.

The reality of his loss slams into you with the force of a tidal wave. The tears you had been holding back now stream down your face without restraint, your body racked with sobs.

You take Lando's lifeless hand in yours, clenching it like a lifeline. "No, no, no…" you whisper, your voice hoarse and broken. "Not like this. It can't end like this."

The room is heavy with a quiet, almost reverential atmosphere. The medical staff step back, leaving you alone with Lando in the silence.

You bend over, resting your forehead against your intertwined hands, the tears dripping onto Lando's motionless chest.

Your mind is flooded with memories - laughter, shared dreams, moments of joy, and the love that burned like a flame between the two of you.

You struggle to comprehend a world without Lando, a world without his smile, his laugh, his presence. The pain is overwhelming, tearing at your heart like a relentless storm.

"Please," you sob, your voice breaking. "Please, come back to me. I can't do this without you. I need you."

But the room remains silent, the machines now stilled, the heart monitor a constant, cruel reminder of the absence of the life it once measured.

As word of Lando's passing spreads, the racing community comes together in grief. The Formula 1 drivers, his teammates and rivals alike, reach out to you, offering their sincere condolences and reminiscing about the times they shared with Lando on and off the track.

At Lando's funeral, numerous Formula 1 drivers arrive to pay their respects. Some, like Daniel and Carlos, share heart-wrenching stories of their time as his teammates, reminiscing about his talent, passion, and infectious laughter. Charles tearfully speaks of the brotherly bond he had with Lando, a friendship that went beyond the race track.

George Russell delivers a deep speech, remembering Lando's determination and unwavering spirit, recalling races where they battled head-to-head.

Finally, you take the stage. Your voice quivers as you speak about Lando's love and loyalty.

As you stand beside Lando's coffin, your voice trembles with emotion as you address the mourners. "Lando was not just a racing talent," you begin, your eyes fixated on his face for a moment. "He was a friend, a companion, and above all, my true love."

You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before continuing, "Lando's laughter could light up any room, and his determination on the track was second to none. He lived life with a passion that few possess, and his spirit was as bright as the stars in the sky."

You force yourself to continue through tears. "But what defined Lando the most, what made him truly special, was his heart. His love for racing, his loyalty to his friends, and his selfless care for those he loved. He gave so much, always putting others first, and his presence in our lives left an indelible mark."

You look around the room, meeting the eyes of those gathered, their faces reflecting the same pain and love you feel. "Lando leaves behind a void that cannot be filled and memories that will last forever. He will always be with us."

Your voice breaks as you force out the last few words. "Goodbye, my love. I'll carry you in my heart always."

You step back, wiping away tears as the room falls silent, the weight of your words settling over everyone present.

The drivers you mentioned before, along with others like Lewis, Max, Pierre, and Oscar, take turns coming up to you, one by one. They offer words of comfort, stories of their time with Lando, and their own heart-wrenching farewells.

Some, like Daniel and Carlos, share stories of Lando's pranks and mischief, remembering his ability to find humor even in the most intense moments. Charles shares more intimate memories, moments of vulnerability and support, revealing the depth of their friendship.

George, his voice choked with emotion, tells you about the countless hours spent together, training, gaming, and discussing racing. He recalls Lando's advice and the friendly competitions that always pushed them to be better.

The weight of their shared grief hangs heavy in the air, but you can also feel the love and respect they all had for Lando. They are a band of brothers, bonded by the common thread of racing, and in this moment, you are all bound together by the memory of one extraordinary person.

The days that follow are a blur. You go through the motions as best as you can - planning the funeral, answering calls from well-wishers, and trying to make sense of the void that Lando's absence has left in your life.

It's during the quiet moments, though, that the reality of your loss hits you the hardest. The late nights spent crying yourself to sleep, the moments when you reach for your phone to call Lando before remembering he's gone, the silence in your once-shared home.

Months pass, and you find yourself at the Silverstone track where Lando had his accident. Today, they are unveiling a memorial to honor his memory.

The track is bustling with attendees, including Formula 1 drivers, racing staff, and fans who had been affected by Lando's sudden passing. The air is thick with a mix of anticipation and sadness.

You stand among the crowd, your heart heavy as you watch the preparations for the unveiling. A podium is set up near the track, and a large, covered structure nearby awaits the reveal.

The moment arrives when the officials prepare to unveil the memorial. The cover is pulled away to reveal a life-sized statue of Lando, frozen in the moment of triumph, a checkered flag in his hand, and a wide, joyful grin on his face.

A collective gasp rises from the crowd, followed by applause and scattered cheers. The statue is a beautiful tribute, a forever testament to Lando's passion and achievements.

The drivers who had spoken at his funeral are also in attendance. They approach the statue one by one, placing their hands on it, as if trying to connect one last time with their fallen friend.

Daniel lays his palm on the statue's outstretched hand, his eyes fixed on the life-like features. Carlos pats the statue's back, reminiscing silently about the memories they shared.

Oscar stands in front of the statue for a long moment, his fingers stroking the flag in Lando's hand. It's as if he holds a conversation with Lando, a silent one no one else can hear.

Then, George steps forward. His gaze remains on the statue's face for a moment before he rests his forehead against the chest. It's a gesture of brotherly love and farewell, his last words to Lando whispered into the air.

Finally, it's your turn. You approach the statue with a mixture of trepidation and nostalgia. As you touch the cold, stone surface, the pain of loss and the love you once shared with Lando flood back.

You let your fingers trail over the lines of his face, caressing softly. Memories flash before your eyes - his smile, his laughter, his touch. You murmur words of love, apologies, and the thousand "I wish" and "what if" phrases that have plagued your thoughts since his passing.

You step back, feeling the weight of his absence in your bones. But in the quiet strength of the statue, you also find a bit of solace, a permanent tribute to the man you loved so fiercely

The days and weeks that follow the unveiling of the memorial are both easier and harder. Easier, in a way, since the grief has settled into a constant dull ache, a part of your daily life. Harder, because the memories are stirred

It's the little things that hit you the hardest - a song on the radio that reminds you of a road trip you took together, a race on TV that you used to watch with Lando, a car that looks like his.

The seasons change, and life's rhythm is dictated by the Formula 1 calendar. With each race, you feel the absence of Lando's presence more deeply. The races that he should have been a part of, the podium celebrations he should have been on, the laughter in the paddock that should have been there.

As time continues to pass, life slowly begins to take on a new rhythm. The pain of losing Lando never entirely vanishes, but you find a way to honour his memory in your own way.

You keep his memory alive by sharing stories about him with friends, family, and anyone who cares to listen. You tell about his love for racing, his passion, his loyalty, and his unwavering spirit. You tell about the way his eyes lit up when he won a race, the way he laughed when you shared a joke. Through these stories, his memory lives on, a vibrant, indelible part of your life.

You start a foundation in Lando's name, supporting young drivers with potential who lack the means to make it to F1. It's a cause close to your heart, and it's a way to carry on Lando's love for the sport and ensure that other aspiring drivers get a chance, just like he once did.

Over time, the pain starts to dull, replaced by a sense of peace and acceptance. You don't forget Lando, but your memories of him don't hurt as much as they used to. The emptiness in your heart isn't as sharp, and you can sometimes even smile when you think of him.

The track where Lando had his accident becomes a sanctuary of sorts for you. You visit there often, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. You sit beside his statue, listening to the silence, sometimes speaking to him, sometimes just sitting quietly beside his memory.

The years continue, and you watch the race drivers come and go. New generations take to the track, and some even remind you of Lando - a wild streak to their driving, a cheeky smile, a hint of recklessness in their eyes. It's in these moments that you feel closest to him - when you see his passion for racing live on in a new generation of drivers.

The End