#Rooftops Monaco

[mdameninie]

Les Meilleurs Rooftops à Monaco : Où Admirer la Principauté depuis les Hauteurs

Monaco, célèbre pour son glamour et son prestige, offre également des vues à couper le souffle depuis ses rooftops. Si vous cherchez à profiter d’un dîner chic ou simplement à siroter un cocktail tout en admirant les lumières scintillantes de la Principauté, voici une sélection des meilleurs rooftops à Monaco : Le Grill de l’Hôtel de Paris Niché au sommet de l’emblématique Hôtel de Paris, Le…

[giuseppe-yuki]

money, money, money

normal!max verstappen x billionaire!reader

w.c.: 6.8k

warnings: curse words, allusions to sex, RUDE people, sprinkle of angst (?)

summary: you introduce max to the good and bad sides of having money.

a/n: roughly inspired by crazy rich asians- one of my fav movies!!!

edit: bonus birthday oneshot :)

photo credits from pinterest :)

it was no secret to the majority of the world that your bloodline was rich- filthy rich. with your father’s side of the family owning the equivalent of half a small country and your mother’s side of the family the owners of several major corporations, you had no lack of paper bills in your bank accounts.

along with your siblings and your cousins, you grew up pampered, only going to your country’s best schools and wearing only the latest fashion. you were picked up by a chauffeur in a personal sleek black bentley and had a team of maids at your beck and call. hell, you were even granted access to a private jet in case you wanted to fly somewhere exotic just for fun!

as a child without a sense of the value of money, you thought all children lived like this. every birthday, you expected only the very best from your parents. on your sixth birthday, your parents closed down disneyland and let the kids rampage throughout the park. for your cousin’s grade school graduation, your aunt bought an entire cruise liner (company) and held a week-long party on the water to celebrate. when your little brother passed his driver’s license, your father bought him a customized ferrari pista (that he might have crashed three days in) as his first car. when christmas came by, your grandma flew in your entire family to her private island in first class, and surprised all the kids with their very own mini play homes in the backyard that were each the size of a small apartment. 

slowly, as you matured, you realized how lucky you were. while eating the caviar and champagne at the expensive gala, the homeless were out in the cold, eating the leftover crusts in oily crumpled pizza boxes that they fished out of the trash. each dollar in your bank accounts could go to sick children whose parents couldn’t pay the hospital bills for, and instead, they were going to mega yachts that sat in the monaco bay most of the year. besides, wouldn’t your parents' money run out some time? 

it seemed that many of your cousins and siblings didn’t give a fuck. you watched them exponentially abuse their power, blowing through thousands of grands for luxury cars they drove only once and exclusive rooftop parties where they swam in pools of champagne. one by one, you saw them drop out of school and spend every day as the life of the party. once they rapidly grew out of the excuse of being “young, naive, and not knowing better” their reputation to the general public became “spoiled and out-of-touch” with society. 

you of course, weren’t totally exempt from this. you had to admit that you occasionally spent a few k on a nice little bag for yourself, or had an occasional trip to bali for some sun. however, you focused much more on your studies and helping others than partying. instead of spending your draining your mother’s company assets, wouldn’t it be better to have your own? why wield a black card embellished with your father’s name in gold when it could be your own name? with your own money, you could also donate huge amounts to people in need- all under your name.

slowly, you built up your own credible business using the knowledge you gained, and it soon skyrocketed into a world-wide profitable company. 

even with such success however, all your siblings and cousins laughed at you. running a company? they had chuckled, in their balenciaga suits and miu miu dresses. why do such tedious work when you can just marry into a rich family?

rich family, you scoff, looking at one of your cousins at the yearly family party that your family threw. though she was dressed to the nines, hair done up and jewelry glistening on her neck, she looked absolutely miserable. her husband, that everyone knew she had just married “for the money” stood on the opposite end of the room, flirting unashamedly with a rather uncomfortable looking waiter. that was really funny, considering that your cousin had been bragging about how much her husband loved her at the last function. she had even shoved a picture of her next to a humongous flower bouquet into your face, teasingly stating how “you never had this experience before, huh?”

your brother wasn’t that much different. although he looked rather successful with a big quarter of your mother’s company stocks, you knew that he was in major debt from burning through his bank accounts gambling at casinos around the world. he paraded around the room with his wife, who hung on his arm so proudly, but only because she didn’t know a thing. if you hinted at your brother’s little “problem,” you knew that she would have the divorce papers ready by afternoon the next day. 

as the party went on and the alcohol broke down the painstakingly-built facades of your family’s relationships, you began to stop envying their so-called perfect lives. you realized that all they knew about was money. what did they know about love?

love to you was a kind man with blue eyes that crinkled whenever he smiled at you, light brown hair that was oh-so-soft to run through with your hands, and a soothing voice with a twinge of an accent and slight lisp. love smelled like his soft cologne, and tasted like the spiced sweetbreads he would bake on the weekends. 

max was the total opposite from the cocky and money-hungry douchebags from your home country that were more attracted to your wallet and family influence, which was what you liked about him. even the way you met him was different. usually, the men would make it all about themselves, trying to impress you with their “achievements” (owning three ferraris is not a keystone achievement, david) or throwing technical jargon at you to sound smart. if you somehow invited them on a second date, they always showed up late and would tear off their clothes the second they got in the house, expecting to get to third base immediately. however, you met max through a friend of a friend at a small party in monaco. he could barely look you in the eyes and stuttered through his sentences, which you found quite refreshing compared to the arrogant guys that you usually encountered. on your first date, he got you some rather wilty looking tulips, but also brought some homemade bread that you swore was the best you ever ate. on the second date, he yapped about all the flags of all the countries he knew, but you didn’t mind because he let you ramble your own interests after. before long, you moved in with him in his apartment on the edge of monaco, and had the honor of calling him your boyfriend.

so now, lying in his arms on his tiny bed, you felt more at home than ever. 

the sunlight streams in through the windows above his bed, casting a glow across his face and filtering through his impossibly long eyelashes. you take a minute to admire the angelic scene, before one his cats leaps off of who-knows-where and jumps on his face. 

he yelps, and unwinds his arm from around you to softly push who you assume to be sassy away from his head. 

you flash a glare at sassy for ruining such a nice moment, before picking her up and attempt to “throw” her off the bed. 

unfortunately, max yanks her out of your hands before you are able to.

“hey!” he says in a chastising tone. “be nice to sassy. i’m sure she didn’t mean to.” 

max sits up on the bed and gives sassy a few head scratches before placing a kiss on her soft head. sassy meows at you, which you swear is in a mocking tone. across the room, jimmy sprints over and takes a spot next to max, purring for head scratches too, effectively pushing you off the bed. 

you didn’t understand how your boyfriend couldn’t see that his cats were literally devils. you were basically subject to their abuse every day (i.e. random ankle attacks, knocking over all you fragile items, unplugging your devices, cat hair in your food, and the worst one, stealing max away from you). scowling, you surrender your rightful spot on the bed and pad into the kitchen in your slippers to start the coffee. 

it’s not until both the coffee and breakfast is ready when max finally enters the kitchen, now freshly dressed. the cats scamper around his feet, curling lovingly around his ankles. 

“sorry about that, baby.” he says, pulling out his chair and taking a seat in front of his plate of food. “jimmy and sassy just wanted some love.”

you roll your eyes before settling down into your own seat.

he spears a few sausage links and eggs into his mouth before glancing at the clock. eyes widening, he shoves the rest of the food into his mouth and chugs down the hot coffee.

“so sorry, i have to run!” he sputters out, “i’m going to be late to my engineering meeting!”

he dashes to the bedroom to grab his bag before running back into the kitchen to press a kiss to your cheek in goodbye. 

“have fun at work too, baby!” he yells before the front door slams closed. 

sighing, you finish your plate before washing the dishes in the sink. he was always late for his engineering job at a small office in downtown monaco. max somehow always got to his office in time though, but probably because he raced his little yellow renault clio rs on the streets like he was some type of formula one driver. meanwhile, you had your “work” at home (which typically meant one phone call to your secretary to make sure everything was running smoothly, a quick scroll through your company accounts, and then netflix on the couch).

from the time you met to the time you started dating, you never got to telling max about your family history or your job. it was actually kind of unbelievable that he didn’t notice actually, even when all your clothes were covertly designer and heels were always red bottoms, or when you seemingly traveled out of the country every other weekend for company meetings. however, he never asked, so you never told. 

well, that was until he came home that night. 

his footsteps echo on the ground as he walks out from the bathroom, but stops before he gets into the kitchen

“hey baby,” he says, tilting his head. “what’s this?”

you stop stirring the pasta sauce, looking back to see your freshly showered boyfriend questioningly glancing at your open macbook on the couch.

you must have forgotten to close out of your company bank account tab. quickly, you throw the spoon aside, slam the laptop shut, and throw it to the side. 

“that’s nothing, baby.” you say, rushing back to the kitchen and stirring the bubbling red mixture again. 

“oh-kay…” he says, walking up behind you and reaching over to help strain the pasta noodles. 

while straining the water out in the sink, he flashes you a quick glance. “was it like…” he whispers quietly. “adult material or something?? is that why you didn’t want me to see it?” 

what? 

you look back him, an unimpressed look at your face. “adult material, max???” you repeat back at him. “no. i was not watching adult material on my work laptop.”

“okay, whatever you say, baby.” max says, clearly not believing you. clearing his throat, he continues. “so, um… anyways, my coworker george was talking about how he met his boyfriend alex's parents over the weekend, and i realized that i never met your parents before. do you think we can maybe pay them a visit?"

you freeze, halfway sliding out a plate of garlic bread from the oven. 

“i- um, don’t think that’s wise, maxie.” you reply quietly.

your boyfriend wrinkles his brow. he stops the plating of the noodles and walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“is it…is it because they are assholes?” he asks, looking at you seriously. “cause it’s okay if they are- i understand, because my dad…my dad is not very kind either.”

you can’t help to think about your family in your home country. you could never take your maxie there. they would rip him to shreds, degrading him for being rather plain and destitute compared to them. you would never want to put your boyfriend through your parents, either, who would probably criticize him for wanting to marry you just for the money, even if max didn’t know a goddamn thing about how you earned your funds. 

you rub your face. “no, it’s not that.” you sigh, “i- mean- it’s just complicated over there in my home country. i don’t want you to feel pressure or uncomfortable-”

max cuts you off with a hug, and presses a kiss to your cheek. “i really don’t mind, baby. i’d really like to meet the people who made such a kind and beautiful person like you.”

you blush a little at his words. even if you have an uneasy feeling to your stomach, you nod lightly. it can’t be that bad, right?

if you were to take max over to your home country, there was no doubt he would be exposed to your massive fame and influence there. to slowly ease him into the more luxurious side of your life, you first introduce the luxuries of a private jet the day you take off from the airport.

“a private JET???” your boyfriend shrieks, looking at his speciality boarding pass. 

hurriedly, you shush him to avoid the glares of other travelers within a yelling distance of you both. 

“max, please be quiet.” you hiss into his ear. “yes, it says private jet.” 

maneuvering your cart with your lv-branded luggage to the side of the terminal, along with max’s one small carry-on and two pet cages with the reincarnations of the devil inside, you pull out your phone to check the location of the driver who would take you to the separate private-jet entrance. 

like magic, he materializes behind you, tapping you on the shoulder. 

politely, he takes your horde of luggages and max’s items before politely gesturing towards a massive black lincoln that was definitely not parked there before. 

“this way miss,” he says curtly, before reaching forward to open the car door for you. 

max, snapping out of his confusion, snaps his hand out first and roughly yanks the door open, and nearly hitting both you and the driver. 

“i’ll open the door for my own girlfriend, thanks!” he retorts, glaring suspiciously at the driver, who just shrugs and starts loading the luggage into the back of the car.

when max climbs into the spacious back of the lincoln, you can’t help but giggle into your hand. 

“max, you need to relax,” you laugh, placing a calming hand on max’s leg. “he’s my driver. it’s his job to open the door, okay?”

your boyfriend sniffs, pouting a little. 

“fine.”

after boarding the jet and ascending safely into the air, you settle into your padded chair. meanwhile, max runs around the jet like a little kid, pointing out the “special features,” much to the amusement of the staff. 

“omg, baby, look!” he yells, pointing at a wooden-paneled door behind your chair. “the bathroom is huge!” 

you nod, and hum in agreement, sparing a quick glance at max, who was opening and closing the door as if it would change what was behind it. 

he then charges toward a cabinet near the middle of the plane, which is stuffed to the brim with your favorite snacks. “wow!” he shouts, before sprinting towards a similar cabinet further down, which you know is the alcohol storage area. 

there’s a moment of silence before max steps into view with three gin and tonics and one of your favorite drinks in hand. he carefully sets them down in front of you, batting away a disgruntled-looking bartender who held a half-open bottle of gin that you assumed he was in the middle of pouring when max snatched the bottle away. 

you apologize profusely to the bartender while max watches on, straight up chugging his drinks. 

“this is wild!!” he whispers, pointing to the cups in front of him.

no more than five minutes after sending the bartender away with a little tip, max has already finished two of his three gin and tonics and was already bounding out of his seat to explore the rest of the plane. 

once you hear his exclamations of joy from the back of the plane, you know he has discovered the master bedroom.

before you have a chance to take a sip of your own drink, max basically pounces on you and drags you towards the private bedroom. your boyfriend pushes you onto the soft bed, yells out the door. 

“give us a little bit of privacy, okay?” he shouts to no one in particular, before slamming the door shut. 

he turns back to your figure lying spread-eagle in the bed, and wiggles his eyebrows. 

max is the first one to talk after you both lay on the bed, lips swollen and cheeks red. 

“so…?” he says, running a hand down your back. 

“so… what?” you ask, looking up at him from your position sprawled on top of him. from your point of view, you could feel the slight rise and fall of his chest, his slightly damp hair, and the way his blue, blue eyes study your face. 

“so, when were you going to tell me that you were…like…rich?” he replies.

you maneuver yourself to a sitting position on your boyfriend’s lap, looking him nervously.

“well…” you remark, twiddling your thumbs. this wasn’t the way you thought you were going to break the news to max. 

“i grew up more- comfortably in my home country, thanks to my family and their connections. i was lucky to not have to worry about money at all. when i became a little older, i separated myself from the rest of my siblings and cousins to form and take care of my own company. then, on a business trip, i met you and then.. yeah, you know what happens next.”

an awkward silence fills the room, with max digesting the information and you toying with a stray thread from the bedcovers.

your boyfriend opens his mouth slowly.

“a company?” he questions, turning to you. “what company?”

you scramble off the bed for your phone, and type something quick in the search bar. when you find what you are looking for, you rotate the phone towards your boyfriend, the glowing screen reflecting on his features. 

it only takes one or two seconds for max to scan and decipher the words on the screen.

“YOU’RE THE CEO OF REDBULL??” max shouts.

when the wheels of your private jet hit the bumpy runway, it was midnight. your pilot’s voice crackles on the intercom, politely notifying you that you have arrived, and are free to disembark whenever you’d like. outside, you can see several workers unloading your luggage, along with jimmy and sassy in their pet carriers.

you turn to max, who was intensely staring at his screen, unmoving. you assume he was still in the middle of his fervent wikipedia dive of you and your family’s entire history that he insisted on learning, once he got over the initial shock. 

“max,” you say, nudging him slightly. 

he doesn’t budge, eyes trained like an eagle on his screen. 

you pull on sweatshirt before nudging him again, this time a little harder. “max, come on, we gotta go.”

he snaps up, and pockets his phone before mock saluting you. “yes, of course, miss ceo! whatever you say!”

you roll your eyes. max was a little extra sometimes.

he trails behind you obediently as you climb down the stairs to get off the plane, and into a sleek black limousine. 

before long, you find yourself on the familiar streets and freeways that you used to frequent when you were younger. it feels the slightest bit nostalgic, so different from the streets of monaco that you became used to thanks to max. 

you look back to find max tilting his head at you. 

“where to now, miss ceo?” he asks in a curious tone.

you smile.

”i know just the place.”

even when it was close to three am, the downtown streets were still packed with people. vendors engulfed the street sides, selling delicious soups and snacks beckoned to people, and little shops with bright signs advertised souvenirs, clothing, stationary, and everything in between. the car inches to a stop when you come upon a familiar old building that you remember visiting often as a child. bright glittery letters on the storefront and windows exclaim, “lombardi ice cream shop.” a line of people streams out the door, an ode to the delicious creamy treats that the shop has been selling for years. god, you could basically taste the ice cream on your tongue already.

you practically leap out of the car, dragging max with you towards the front of the shop. the red bottoms of your heels click against the concrete, turning many heads in the crowd along the sidewalk. you hear gasps of shock and a few whispers of your name along the crowd. they automatically parts like moses and the red sea when you get closer. max hesitates, wide eyed, at the edge of the crowd. 

”c’mon,” you laugh, taking his hand and leading him through the people.

an old woman, back hunched with age, waddles out of the kitchen and greets you warmly when you arrive at the counter. without realizing, a warm feeling spreads across your chest. she was basically like a second mother to you, considering you spent your entire childhood frequenting this shop with your cousins and siblings. whenever you visited your home country, you would always make sure to pop by her shop (not that she needed your business- her lines always curled around the block, day and night). 

“ahh!! welcome back, honey,” she exclaims, wiping her wrinkled hands on her apron. “you’ve gotten so beautiful!” throwing a glance at a shy max hesitantly hidden behind you, she sends you an eyebrow raise. “ah, and i see you brought a boy back huh?”

you reach over to give the weathered old woman a hug, blushing. “hello, momma lella! yes, this is my boyfriend max.”

max waves a polite hello, one hand still nervously holding yours.

the elderly woman smiles kindly at max, not hiding how she looks him up and down. “well, i approve!” she states, giving you a thumbs up and a wink. “polite and handsome!” 

without another word, she grabs the largest size cup and fills it to the brim with creamy chocolate ice cream. sprinkling a good amount of sprinkles and shoving two spoons into the cup, she offers it to you. 

“on the house!”

you and max sit on the sidewalk with the cup of ice cream, watching people walk by and cars zoom through the traffic. occasionally, max takes his spoon and shovels a large helping of chocolate ice cream into his mouth. 

“you look like you’re really enjoying the ice cream,” you state, noticing the chocolate smeared over the corners of his mouth.

max just smiles at you in the way he always does, with the dimples and the crinkle in his eyes. 

suddenly, your moment is ruined when a flash goes off in your face.

max jerks back, rubbing his eyes, not used to the invasive cameras that made up your childhood.

you whip around towards the flash, seeing a small herd of paparazzi smiling wickedly. a rare spotting of you in back in your home country for the first time in years? that was payday for them. a flash of anger shoots through you, causing you to throw your wooden spoon at their expensive cameras. unfortunately, it just bounces off of the arm of a short looking man carrying a heavy duty camera.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you yell, shooing them away from max. “can you just leave us alone for one second?”

bothersome paparazzi like this was common when you grew up in a family rich with drama and money. you recall them camping in front of your house, shutters clicking once they saw a sign of movement. whatever mistake you made, like tripping over a small rock or fighting with your sister over a doll, was publicized and dramatized into unrecognizable stories on gossip magazines that were popular in your home country. it was a pity that this was max’s first introduction to these pests. 

you pull max with you as you shove your way roughly through the paparazzi. they deserved it if you accidentally smashed someone’s lens. 

max stumbles behind you. 

“wha-?” he says, holding the half-empty chocolate ice cream. “where are we going?”

you huff. “away from those wannabe photographers- i hate them so much.”

you flip open your phone to call your chauffeur, but your app notifies you it would take a total of ten minutes for him to weave through traffic to get to you both. in the distance, the paparazzi raise their cameras again, shutters clicking as they photograph your pissed off expression and a dumbfounded max next to you. you can practically see the headlines tomorrow- ‘bratty billionaire back in country!!’

like a godsend, a futuristic-looking car rumbles to life next to you. that will probably get you home and away from these fuckers fast, right? hurriedly, you march over to the disgruntled middle-aged man in the passengers’ seat.

“five million for your car- right now.” you say, dead serious. 

the man’s eyes widen comically large. 

“five mi-“

you cut him off quickly, seeing the paparazzi darting closer to max, who was still holding the ice cream and eyeing the cameras wearily. 

“yes, five million. i’ll mail you the check.”

without another word, the man tosses you the keys and hefts himself out of the car. you leap into the drivers seat just as he gets out, and jam your finger on the window down button to beckon max into the car immediately. 

the moment he sits down on the expensive-looking leather seats, you rev the engine and leave the paparazzi behind in the dust. 

it’s not until you are halfway back to your penthouse when max finally speaks. 

“this is a super nice car,” he states, running his hand against the interior side panels. 

you look around, really noticing the detailings of the car. the sides look like they are made with some carbon fiber material, and it seemed like it didn’t even have a door handle- just straps you pull on the corner of the dashboard. 

”yeah, i guess so,” you admit. “i just bought this off of that dude back there in order to get away from the damn paparazzi.”

max wrinkles his brows. 

“you bought-?? what??? you know this is an aston martin valkyrie, right?”

the next morning, when the sun shines through the skyline windows lining your penthouse, you keep your promise by instructing one of your staff to send the promised check to the random guy on the street (fernando, he said his name was). your boyfriend scrolls idly on his phone next to you, probably scrolling through your family’s lengthy wikipedia page again. his cats stamp around your white bedsheets as if they owned the place. you think about what you both could do today. perhaps visit the children’s hospital? before moving to monaco, you frequented many small hospitals, bringing gifts for the children. it always felt good seeing the sick kids light up with joy. or, you could go shopping, although you did spend a little bit much on the random car yesterday. or- 

before you can complete your thought, a familiar ringtone lights up the screen of your phone. your mother’s name lights up your phone, as if taunting you. before you second-guess yourself, you smash your finger into the green ‘answer’ button and place the phone to your ear.

your mother’s voice flows through the speakers, sending a wave of nostalgia throughout your body. 

“darling!” the voice hums, “why didn’t you tell me that you were back in your home country? i had to find out over the silly little paparazzi pictures on the newspapers!” 

damn it, you think, cursing silently in your head. it seemed that the paparazzi from yesterday night had probably sold your pictures to some trashy gossip magazine that had caught the attention of your mother. that meant that you had to face your family sooner or later. 

“hello, mother,” you reply curtly, trying to avoid the topic. “how may i help you?”

your mother tuts through the speakerphone. “oh, your own mother can’t just call to say hello?” 

you groan. “no- i mean yes-“

your mother cuts you off, laughing. “i’m kidding, darling. i just wanted to let you know that i’m hosting a party at our estate tomorrow, to celebrate your arrival! you’ve been in monaco for a god-awful long time. your cousins and siblings will be coming too- i’m sure they’ll all excited to see you after your hiatus in monaco!” 

you hesitate before responding. your first instinct was to say no, because everybody knew full well that the only reason your cousins and siblings even bothered to show up at these kind of events is to save face and show off their new ridiculously expensive clothing and cars, not to welcome you. however, this also gave you a chance for max to meet your parents, like he wanted back in monaco. it isn’t a hard choice when you agree to meet the next day.

max revs the engine once again as he pulls the valkyrie to stop in front of the valet at the front of your family’s estate. 

through the tinted windows of the car, you see one of your snobby cousins, dressed in an jeweled gown, jump at the loud sound and clutch her husband’s arm tighter however, her husband ignores her to get a good look at your aston martin supercar, which makes you laugh. to your surprise, he is not the only one. a few other family members gather around, admiring the hypercar. 

in the passenger’s seat, max’s mischievous grin slowly turns into a frown of nervousness as he spots the crowd of people gathering around you both. you know it must look intimidating, meeting your significant other’s family, especially when they had such high expectations of you. you place a kiss on his cheek. 

“you ready, maxie?” you ask, patting his shoulder comfortingly. 

he nods, before opening the car door. 

like the gentleman he is, max quickly hurries over to the passenger’s side of the car to help you out of the car. you gladly take his hand, and step out of the vehicle daintily. straight away, you can hear the confused mutterings and jealous glares of your family members start up, which follow the both of you into the house. 

like expected, your childhood home is decorated a little over the top. people mingle under crystal chandeliers around staircases draped with real flowers. from the second living room, music drifts out that sounds suspiciously like martin garrix. a fancy bar is set up a room that was usually the dining room, with a bottle of every single alcohol you can ever think of. the courtyard, usually empty save a few plants, was turned into outdoor buffet bar, complete with a five story cake and massive chocolate fountain. 

once inside, max attempts to introduce himself to the first friendly-looking family member that he sees, which happens to be your aunt on your mother’s side. he sticks out his hand, a smile gracing his face. 

“hi, my name is max,” he says, “i’m your niece’s boyfriend.”

your aunt nods politely, shaking his hand. 

“hello max,” she says, visibly studying him, “what are you, a ceo? businessman? sports star?”

”auntie!” you say, shocked, cutting max off from his response. that rude bitch. although she looked relatively kind from the outside, all she really cared about anyone was their power and money. which was probably why your cousin married a mega popstar that was away half the time. like the rest of your family, money trumped true love. “you can’t just start a conversation like that!”

max shakes his head, “no, no, it’s alright. i’m an engineer.”

“ah,” your aunt says, knowingly. taking a sip of her champagne, she continues, “head engineer, huh? of what company?”

thinking he might have misheard her, max corrects her, “oh- no, not head engineer, just an engineer, like in an office.”

your great-aunt’s friendly demeanor automatically drops.

“just an engineer?” she responds, coldly.

you notice how max’s face falls the slightest bit, before he plasters a fake polite smile on his face. he shuffles uncomfortably, glancing at you, as if saying, did i say something wrong?

before you can say something rather rude to your aunt, a hand clasps your shoulder. turning around, your brother beams at you. 

“sister!” he exclaims. “i haven’t seen you in a hot sec. too busy partying in monaco, huh? or doing your silly little business things for redbull?”

he then eyes max, to which he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “who’s this, huh? your boyfriend?”

”yes,” you snap, still a little pissed from your aunt’s rude reaction. 

your brother puts his hands up jokingly, in a surrender position. “damn, okay, no need to be defensive.” 

he sticks out his hand to your boyfriend, who takes it gladly. 

“what’s up, dude,” your brother says, shaking max’s hand. “i saw you pull up with my sister in that sick aston martin valkyrie! you must have some insane connections- the waitlist for that baby is like years long.”

your aunt answers before your boyfriend can. 

“there’s no way he could have bought that car- he’s just an office engineer at some company at who knows where,” she says pointedly.

hearing this, your brother’s impressed look turns into a sneer of disdain. he steps back from max in disgust, as if he had just turned into some horrible monster. he chuckles at you.

”wow, sister, you’ve outdone yourself huh? an office engineer?”

your family, slowly becoming aware of something going on, turns towards the scene. a wide-eyed martin garrix turns off the booming music in the back.

you shove your brother further away from max, causing the glass of champagne to spill onto your brother’s designer suit. 

“what’s wrong with you?” you exclaim angrily. “at least he has a job, unlike you!”

ignoring the bubbling liquid staining his suit and your enraged expression, he turns toward max, still eyeing him with disgust. “how pathetic, leeching off of my sister’s money as a ceo? ha, you probably used her card to buy that valkyrie, didn’t you?”

next to you, stunned into silence, max’s blue eyes begin to fill with tears. 

behind you, your aunt lets out a cackle of laughter, along with a few members of the crowd.

you just about launch yourself at your brother, wanting more than anything to bash his head in.

as if it couldn’t get worse, your mother pushes through the crowd gathered around you both, and grabs your arm before you can make contact with your brother. 

“hey!” she yells, yanking you back. “what is going on here?” 

your brother grins, pointing at max. “your precious daughter went and got herself a little gold digger boyfriend- and look, he’s crying!”

you glance over to max, heart sinking. like your brother said, he had a tear running down his face, and he shook a little with embarrassment. it reminded you of a story that max once told you, how his father had often upset him as a child when he was forced to do karting. an anger flared inside of you. max had only wanted to be a good boyfriend and introduce himself to your family, but was in turn ridiculed in front of a crowd by your hypocrite brother.

your mother turns to max, then turns to you. 

“is this true, darling?” she asks, tilting her head. “does he exploit you for money?”

does max exploit you for money? you can hardly even comprehend the ridiculous sentence. you roughly yank your arm out of your mother’s grasp and march over to max. you lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze. 

you turn towards your chuckling brother. he won’t be laughing soon.

“you’re really one to talk, brother! you think you’re hot shit, with a large chunk of mother’s company stocks. well, wouldn't it be a shame if everyone knew that you are in debt from your uncontrollable gambling problem, hmm? i wonder what your wife feels about that?”

you take comfort in the way the smug smile drops from your brother’s face, now replaced with a withering glare. the silent crowd gathered around the scene lets out a gasp, in light of this news. their focus now was trained on your brother instead of max. 

“and you!” you exclaim, turning to your aunt. “since you think the word gold digger is so funny, auntie, wouldn’t you like to know how your own daughter is one, huh?” 

your aunt jerks back, not used to the crowd’s attention trained on her, along with your harsh words.

”yeah,” you continue, “if you would stop judging people based on their worth in money, you might have been able to see that all she does is spend her husband‘s money on inane things in order to ignore his multiple affairs!”

from the back of the room, you hear your cousin burst into tears while her mother, your aunt, standing in front of you, turns as red as a tomato. 

gently, you lead max towards the gilded gold front door. your family gives you judgemental looks as you make your way through the crowd. turning back one last time before you step out, you address the crowd. “don’t think any of you guys are any better. all you lot do is leech off of trust fund money!”

max stays silent all the way to your penthouse, as do you. after a hot shower, you bundle him up in your soft fluffy blankets until he looks the puft marshmallow man. you can’t help but feel terrible. he silently shuffles towards you, which you respond by pulling his head against your chest. jimmy and sassy watch wearily from a distance on the carpet.

you are the first to cut through the silence. 

“i am so sorry that my family did that to you, maxie.” 

he doesn’t answer, but the new tears that soak your expensive silk pajama set does the answering for him. 

you run your hand through his damp strands of light brown hair, and rub his back comfortingly. 

he pulls back from your embrace to wipe his eyes briefly. 

“why do you love me?” he hiccups, cheeks wet with tears. “like- i have no money, two cats that you hate, and- and- a tiny apartment-“

“max!” you say, cutting him off from his ramblings. “listen to me.” 

you look into his watery eyes, eyelashes wet with tears.

”i really don’t care if you lived in a literal dirt hole with no job, or if you were a formula one world champion. i would love you no matter what. i love your blue eyes and your pouty lips and your lisp, and your cologne, and the bread that you bake, and your little apartment and even though it may not seem like it, i love your stupid cats too.“

he chuckles wetly at the last part of your sentence.

you kiss the top of his head.

”you don’t know how much i love you, max emillian verstappen.”

a devious grin slips onto his face. he shoots you a sultry look. 

“show me.”

and you do.

later, when max lays asleep on the bed, love bites on his neck, face slightly flushed, and back bare, you get up to fetch your phone.

the person you seek is only a few taps away. he picks up on the second ring, politely greeting you even though it was an ungodly hour. you tell him your request, but he hesitates slightly. 

”are you sure-“

you cut your financial advisor off as politely as possible. 

“yes, that’s right. i would like to buy the entirety of my mother’s companies and my father’s estates.”

the sounds of pencil scratching paper fills your ears before your financial advisor lets out a sound of approval. 

“right away, ma’am!”

a/n: APOLOGIES for my week-long hiatus!! take this fic as an apology... your normal spinoff series! scheduling will resume shortly <3

also let me know if you have a better name for this piece- i was STRUGGLING trying to name this one ;-;

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

He had fallen like a ton of bricks for a dark-haired girl with doe eyes and the prettiest of smiles…and who also happened to be the twin sister of his biggest rival.

Colette Leclerc had been the first girl he had ever looked twice at and even 15 years later, that had never changed. Max was quite sure that it never would change either. It was her or nobody for him. 

Though he was very much aware that nobody had actually taken their relationship seriously for the first 5 years. Just a childhood crush turned into a teenage romance... But then slowly, their families had realised that it wasn't "just" anything.

He had moved to Monaco a day after his 18th birthday for her. To be as close to her as he possibly could. They had moved in together later that year. 

They had kept it quiet over the years... Family and friends knew but Max and Colette had never made it obvious enough for the press to pick up on.

 It had been Colette's request, not his.

Max would have liked to scream it from the rooftops. Would have liked everybody to know that Colette was his girlfriend, that he was the one that got to go home to her…that he was the one she loved. That they were blissfully happy together and had been for 15 years at this point. 

That she was carrying their child. 

Their baby.

It was a fucking miracle, that's what it was.

It had taken them a good six months to get pregnant the first time...nearly 2 years ago…between his race schedule and the insanity of the racing season...and then she had miscarried days after that first positive pregnancy test.

It has been heartbreaking. 

Of course, it had been...but they had thought that...maybe it was just a one-off…

The doctors hadn't been able to find anything wrong with her after all...

The second pregnancy resulted in another miscarriage less than a year later.

Another case of…Well, there is nothing wrong as far as we can tell. 

And then ..the third pregnancy...both Max and Colette had been a complete mess about it. 

Expecting the worst to happen at any minute. They had waited for the other shoe to drop. He had waited for there to be bleeding...for the baby not to make it...but then they had their first ultrasound and there had been a heartbeat.

Finally, after two devastating miscarriages, they had a positive ultrasound. A healthy heartbeat and a thriving baby growing in Colette’s belly.

It was a fucking miracle.

Even when the fact that Colette was due in January meant that he was gone for much of her pregnancy. Max hated being away from her during such a vulnerable and exciting time. 

He had tried though. Max had made sure to come home to Monaco as often as he could during the season, even if it was just for a quick visit, even when it was just for 24 hours at a time.

He was glued to his phone constantly, as soon as he had a free minute. The truly important people all knew about the baby and even GP let him go with a roll of his eyes when Max was once again absentmindedly checking his phone for another message from Colette.

At least, in a few days, he could be there for her. He would be there in January, and he wouldn’t miss the last month of pregnancy or the first precious few weeks with their baby…

There was a part of him that believed the baby would be a girl that would look just like Colette. Colette thought it was a boy. They had decided to be surprised. But regardless if it was a boy or a girl, Max just wanted the baby to be safe and healthy.

Max always called and video-chatted with Colette every evening. He was like an overly attached mother hen, constantly asking her how she felt, if she needed anything, and checking on the baby's progress.

So when her name was mentioned in conversation by two of his mechanics...he immediately perked up. 

They were in Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season... and after the drama that had been the Qatar GP, that particular penalty and George Russell…Max was, quite frankly, done with the season. 

He just wanted to get home to Colette and their baby.

"I just really want to know what Colette Leclerc posted on Instagram," one of them said with a snort. "Whatever it was, it must have really gotten under Russell's skin."

What?

Colette's Instagram was set to private. She used it to comment under every single one of her brothers' posts and that pretty much was it. She did post pictures sometimes, to the less than 200 followers she actually had.

Why would a random mechanic even know about...

"Too bad it's set to private," the other responded with a sigh. "I would love to slide in her dms…she’s a beauty…"

He held back a snort at that. It was true. Max wholeheartedly agreed that Colette was beautiful. Simply lovely.  There was no one else who could compare to her in his eyes.

But there was also the fact that Colette had the habit of not even realising if a guy was flirting with her at all. Quite frankly, he wasn’t much better…it had always just been each other for both of them. 

But all of that didn’t answer the other question he had.  So he whipped out his phone again and then did what he really shouldn't do...namely check out the fan accounts. 

He got his answer then.

Gemma, one of the press officers, approached him with a grim expression, just at that moment. "Max," she said urgently, "There's something you need to know."

Max's anger was building as he spoke. "I already saw," he gritted out, his voice barely restrained. "George decided to be an ass.”

 Granted, "Karma is the guy in the car, coming straight home to me" probably had been rather pointed...because Max had indeed gotten Pole Position back in the first corner... So it had been Karma in a way. 

Still, for George to use Colette against Max...Colette, who kept quiet and out of the spotlight...who abhorred paparazzi...

Max was seething. George had crossed a line by bringing Colette into their rivalry. She was an innocent party in all of this, someone who always shied away from the spotlight. 

Max clenched his fists in anger, his jaw tightened as he forced himself to remain composed. He knew that lashing out at George would only give him what he wanted, but he couldn't help feeling protective of Colette.

Especially right now. The stress wasn't good for her and it wasn't good for the baby...He took a deep breath to calm himself down. He needed to keep his temper in check, even if it was difficult.

 He had to think about Colette and the baby. The last thing he wanted was to add more stress to her life.

Gemma's words were quiet, but they hit like a ton of bricks. "I would suggest you stay low right now," she advised. "I know it's completely out of line, but if you confront him about it, he could end up telling the press about you two. And that's not something you want..."

He knew how cruel the media could be, how they would tear apart every aspect of their relationship. Colette avoided the spotlight for a reason and he had promised her that he would never drag her into it either if it was at all possible. But the idea of George using her as a pawn in his games with Max...it was infuriating.

[harrysfolklore]

home hero - charles x reader

gif by @princemick <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Monaco is Charles' home. Growing up, he had watched the Grand Prix from the balconies and rooftops, dreaming of the day he would stand atop the podium. Each year, the pressure mounted as he came so close, only to have victory slip through his fingers.

Today felt different. There was a determined glint in his eye this morning as he kissed you goodbye and headed to the track. You could tell he was ready, more focused than ever before. You had to believe this was his year.

"Are you nervous?" you asked, leaning against the kitchen counter asyou watched him get everything he needed before heading out.

"More than usual," he admitted, flashing you a quick smile,"But I feel good. I have a good feeling about today."

"You’ve got this, Charles. I believe in you," you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you," he hugged you tightly, resting his chin on top of your head.

"You'd still be amazing," you said, looking up at him,"But I'm glad I get to be here with you."

You arrived at the circuit, the familiar roar of engines filling your ears as you made your way to the paddock. You found your usual spot in the Ferrari garage, the team bustling around with last-minute preparations. You exchanged nervous smiles with the crew, all of you hoping for the same outcome.

You watched as Charles went through his pre-race routine, meticulously checking everything himself even though he trusted his team completely. He looked up at you and smiled, his nervous eyes softening the moment they landed on you.

"Hey, come here," he called softly, waving you over.

You walked over, taking his gloved hand in yours. "You’re going to do great, you know that, right?"

"I just," he sighed, "Really want that win, you know? Not just for me, but for my family, my friends, for us," you smiled fondly at his words, "This is my home and everyone believes in me, I don't want to keep letting them down."

"Charles, you've never let anyone down," you squeezed his hand, "You've given everything you have, every time and that's why everyone believes in you. No matter what happens today, you're already a champion in our eyes."

"You're too sweet," he teased with a small smile, pecking your lips quickly, "I need to go. I'll see you after the race."

"Be safe out there," you said, giving him one last lingering kiss.

You watched as he made his way to the car, taking a deep breath before climbing in. The race was about to begin, and the anticipation was palpable. You found your seat in the garage, eyes glued to the screen, heart pounding with every lap.

As the race progressed, it was clear that Charles was driving with everything he had. Lap after lap, he maintained his position and defended his lead against the competition.

With only a few laps to go, the tension in the garage was at an all-time high. You could barely breathe, every fiber of your being focused on Charles and the car.

And then, it happened. Charles crossed the finish line and the checkered flag was waved, securing his first win at the Monaco Grand Prix. The garage erupted in cheers, and you felt tears of joy streaming down your face.

He did it. He actually did it.

Before you even knew what was happening, you ran to the pit wall, heart soaring with pride as you watched Charles climb out of the car, his face a mixture of disbelief and pure elation. He waved to the crowd, taking in the moment before making his way over to the barrier, his eyes searching for you.

You pushed through the crowd, your heart racing as you made your way to him. When he finally saw you, his face lit up with the brightest smile you'd ever seen.

"Charles!" you called out, your voice cracking with emotion.

"We did it!" he shouted, pulling you into his arms and hugging you tightly, his voice full of joy and relief.

"You did it," you corrected, laughing through your tears. "I'm so proud of you!"

"I couldn't have done it without you," he said, pressing his forehead against yours. "Fuck! I can't believe this is real."

You kissed him, a sweet and lingering kiss that held all the words you couldn't say in that moment. When you pulled back, you saw the love and gratitude in his eyes, and it made your heart swell with even more pride.

"Now go stand on top of the podium, you deserve it."

The celebrations were in full swing as it was time for the podium. Charles was greeted with cheers and applause from the team, his family, and the fans who had supported him through thick and thin. The Monegasque flag waving proudly above him.

The national anthem played, and you watched as tears of pride and joy rolled down Charles' cheeks. This was the moment he had dreamed of, the moment he worked so hard for. And now, it was finally here.

[vitalverstappen]

Homecoming SMAU - C. Leclerc

summary: have you ever had a massive crush on your team rival? (smau edition)

pairing: Charles Leclerc x Red Bull driver!reader

fc: various, just pretend they're all the same person

a/n: i kinda love this fic wayyy too much to let it go so soon, so I decided to make a smau version for your enjoyment!

written

masterlist

liked by redbullracing, charles_leclerc, and 737,602 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: Didn't go how we planned, but grateful to snatch a point. Congrats to Charles for the home race win!

view all comments

charles_leclerc: thank you!! can't wait to celebrate later!

yourusername: lmk when and where and i'll be there!!

user1: wdym my two fav drivers are definitely about to get plastered together??

user2: they've been friends since she broke into f1, only makes sense they would user3: yeah "friends" he's been in love with her since he saw her for the first time

user2: no.

maxverstappen1: over/under on how long it takes for her to get ready? line is at 2.5 hours

logansargeant: over

landonorris: over

oscarpiastri: over

redbullracing: over

user4: there's no way she really takes THAT long

logansargeant: you'd be surprised

twitter & max's texts

liked by user1, user2, and 36,583 others

f1gossip: some of the drivers out and about in Monaco celebrating Charles' home win!

view all comments

user5: whoever let lando dj needs a RAISE

user6: i heard logan and oscar were also there!

user7: is it just me or do charles and y/n look weirdly close together??

user3: im telling you guys there's got to be SOMETHING going on between them

user2: again, guys and girls can be just friends.

user6: it's also a club. they're gonna be packed together

user8: i don't even want to know how much money they spent

monza media day

liked by: logansargeant, francolapinto and 673,842 others

tagged: logansargeant, francolapinto

yourusername: wdym i'm now the only one here repping the red, white n blue?? but in all reality, it's been an honor getting to know you Logan, you'll always be my best friend & I can't wait to see what you do in the future!!

but welcome to the grid Franco! you've got some tough shoes to fill

view all comments

logansargeant: thank you y/n. gonna miss you <3

yourusername: at least now you wont have to spend the 4th in the UK... again...

francolapinto: gracias y/n! No puedo esperar a ver qué trae el resto de la temporada!

yourusername: i have no idea what you just said but yes!!

user9: oh she's just like us

user10: girl is down bad

user2: @/user3 no like from Charles... how are you feeling after this?

user3: by the end of this season i'll be yelling i told you so from the rooftops

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 987,325 others

tagged: yourusername

redbullracing: The queen of COTA has arrived! 🇺🇸

view all comments

user11: ugh she's glowing

user12: her austin looks always slay

user3: CHARLES IS BACK IN THE LIKES! I REPEAT CHARLES IS BACK!!

user2: you weren't kidding when you said you didn't give up hope

maxverstappen1: you guys better not be plotting to get me in a cowboy hat

yourusername: pffffft why would we do that??

redbullracing: fine, we'll go put it away...again...

charles_leclerc: if you need someone to dress up, i know a guy

user13: omg stand up king, this isn't even y/n's insta

yourusername: @/charles_leclerc wdym "you know a guy" you couldn't even wear your hat properly

liked by charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli and 985,432 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, kimi.antonelli, jackdoohan, texasfootball

yourusername: hook 'em 🤘

view all comments

texaslonghorns: it was a pleasure to have you! same time next year?

yourusername: you know it! 🫡

texasfootball: thanks for the support! we'll have to get you suited up next year

yourusername: as long as i don't get tackled im yours

user14: awh y/n and charles are already starting to adopt the 2025 rookies

oscarpiastri: i do not need any more siblings

charles_leclerc: thx for showing me the joys of college football 🧡

yourusername: anytime charlie!!!

user15: CHARLIE?? girl WHAT?

user3: GUYS ITS HAPPENING!!

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 985,920 others

yourusername: P1 baby!! It's always special to race at home and being able to win it means even more! A weekend I'll forever remember ❤️🤍💙

view all comments

redbullracing: congrats y/n!! a win well deserved!

liked by yourusername

maxverstappen1: honor to be on that podium with you! let's run it back in vegas

yourusername: only in vegas??

maxverstappen: your ego is gonna get too big if you win everything else

user16: RAH RAHHHH AMERICA 🦅💥🦅💥🇺🇸

user17: U! S! A! 🇺🇸 U! S! A! 🇺🇸

charles_leclerc: congrats on the win!! now, drinks on me tonight?

user18: oh charles grew a pair

yourusername: @/charles_leclerc actually, i think i still owe you for monaco 😊

user3: 👀👀👀

liked by user3, user2, and 45,832 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, yourusername

f1gossip: newest wag(s)?? charles and y/n were caught making out in a club in Austin. The two, along with the rest of the grid were there celebrating y/n's homecoming win. Cheers were heard from the other drivers as the two shared their moment.

view all comments

user19: oh. my. god.

user20: what in the romeo and juliet with a happy ending??

user2: @/user3 go ahead. say it.

user3: @/user2 I TOLD YOU SO. I TOLD YOU ALLLLL SO

user3: I DON'T LOOK CRAZY NOW. I KNEW IT

user21: what does @/redbullracing have to say about this

redbullracing: i'm just glad it isn't one of the mclaren boys mclaren: we wouldn't date you either its fine

want more? @coco-loco-nut wrote a sister story. Check it out!

[f1girliefics]

Not His Girlfriend

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: He never lied. He just liked to tell stories.

One day, Lando's friends decided to throw him a surprise birthday party at a trendy rooftop bar in Monaco. 

As the night went on and the drinks flowed freely, one of Lando's friends couldn't help but notice that he seemed to be rather lonely.

"Hey Lando, where's your girlfriend tonight?" his friend asked with a mischievous grin.

Lando chuckled nervously, trying to come up with a clever response. 

"Oh, you know how it is, always flying solo," he replied with a wink.

But his friend wasn't convinced. 

"Come on, Lando, we all know you. Why do you keep denying it?"

Lando's face turned red as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation. 

"Well, you see, it's not that I have a girlfriend, it's just that...I have a wife," he finally admitted, much to the surprise of his friends.

The revelation caused quite a stir among the group, but Lando simply shrugged it off with a sheepish grin. 

"I guess I just like to keep things interesting," he quipped, earning a round of laughter from his friends.

And so, Lando's secret was finally out in the open, but his friends couldn't help but admire his quick thinking and clever way of handling the situation. 

From that day on, Lando was known as the master storyteller who could spin a tale like no other - even if it meant denying having a girlfriend because he had a wife.

But the story of your secret wedding had to wait a couple more nights as Lando was on his fifth shot of the night.

Grinning like an idiot.

He arrived home late, you were already asleep, you woke up to someone in the shower singing.

You decided to just pretend to be asleep and Lando soon joined you.

"Love you." he said and you could smell the alcohol with the mint of the toothpaste.

You were just glad he had a fun night. Even if the morning hangover will be a whole new beast.

[wondergirlsthings]

Late Nights and Lingering Stares

Lando Norris x Reader

The hum of the city at night was soothing, a stark contrast to the roaring engines and chaotic paddocks you had grown used to in the world of Formula 1. Lando had convinced you to join him in Monaco for a few days, promising you a break from the usual madness. Tonight, he had planned a casual dinner with a small group of friends at his favorite rooftop restaurant.

You slipped into a sleek black dress, the satin fabric hugging your figure and flowing elegantly as you moved. It was simple but undeniably striking, and you couldn’t help but feel confident as you adjusted your earrings in the mirror.

“Wow.”

You turned to see Lando standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and a slightly stunned expression on his face. He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, his hair slightly tousled in that effortlessly charming way he always managed to pull off.

“You clean up well, Norris,” you teased, walking toward him.

“And you…” He let out a low whistle, his gaze trailing over you appreciatively. “You’re going to be the talk of the night.”

You laughed, brushing past him to grab your clutch. “Hardly. You’re the star here, remember? I’m just the plus one.”

He frowned, stepping closer and gently taking your hand. “Don’t say that. You’re more than that, Y/N. Trust me, no one’s going to be looking at me tonight.”

His words sent a warm flush to your cheeks, and you smiled up at him. “Ready to go?”

He nodded, still looking at you like he couldn’t believe his luck.

————————————————————

The restaurant was everything Lando had promised—intimate, luxurious, and offering a breathtaking view of Monaco’s glittering skyline. The group settled in quickly, laughter and conversation flowing easily. But Lando, you noticed, was quieter than usual.

At first, you thought it was the long season catching up to him. Then you caught the way his eyes flickered to a guy across the table—a friend of a friend—who had been talking to you a little too enthusiastically.

You leaned in closer to Lando, brushing your hand against his under the table. “You okay?” you whispered.

He nodded, but his jaw was tight. “I’m fine.”

“Lando…” you pressed, giving him a knowing look.

He sighed, leaning in to whisper back. “It’s nothing. I just don’t like the way he’s looking at you.”

You glanced at the guy, who was now laughing at something someone else had said, and then back at Lando. “You’re jealous,” you teased, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“I’m not jealous,” he protested, though the pink in his cheeks betrayed him. “I just… don’t like it. That’s all.”

You squeezed his hand, your smile softening. “Lando, I’m here with you. No one else matters. You don’t need to worry.”

He relaxed slightly, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “I know. I just can’t help it sometimes. You’re… you.”

“And I’m yours,” you reminded him gently, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his cheek.

The rest of the night passed more smoothly, with Lando staying close to your side, his arm draped protectively around your chair. As you left the restaurant, he laced his fingers with yours, pulling you closer as the cool night air surrounded you.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” he said, his tone light but sincere.

“Always,” you replied, smiling up at him. “But you should know by now—you don’t have anything to worry about. I’m all yours, Lando.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling under the streetlights. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

[amaranthineghost]

hello!!!

can you do a one shot/ fanfic that Lando has been dating Y/N since they were 15/16, so for a long time, and she just found out she’s pregnant. you can come up with how they would react and how lando would react but i’d love if they were unsure of it in the beginning, but it grew on them as time went by.

thanks!!!!

| OUR WORLD IN YOUR HANDS ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando x reader

ꕥ summary: they hadn't planned for pregnancy, but it changed their life.

ꕥ authors note: enjoyed writing it more than I thought I would honestly. tried to make it so she was more unsure than he was and in the end, I liked it. working on incorporating more dialogue in the future because it is definitely not my strong suit. I'll also alternate between requests and my own ideas so if you requested something, keep it in mind <3

ꕥ warnings: mentions of alcohol, sex, barely mentions thoughts of abortion

TWO RED LINES. her heart had skipped a beat, more like several as she stared at the dark red line and a faded pink one next to it. she couldn't believe her eyes. it couldn't be possible, it repeated in her mind.

but it obviously was. they hadn't been very careful, they're young and dumb and in love. two people so deeply in love that they couldn't care less. at least she thought they did at the time.

staring at the test in front of her shook her whole world, an entirely different branch of her life she'd never expect to take this soon. it was right in front of her.

despite being together for a year or two shy of a decade, it felt too soon. they were still young, had plenty of parties lined up in the near future. plenty of drunken nights running through the streets of monaco barefooted, hands intertwined as the world was focused on them. how they'd escape to the farthest rooftop, drunken makeouts leading to more as they came together under the stars.

they still had time. time to be what they'd missed as teenagers, to make memories. they had time to spend countless nights, wrapped in each other's arms under cold skies on balconies across countries, discussing their future. when they'd get married, where they'd like to live, if they ever left monaco which seemed unlikely, the places they've yet to see, how many kids they'll have and their names.

time for reckless driving through the streets of monaco with the wind crashing against them, hands raised as they cheered. he always drove to the most beautiful sight in the city, but always claimed it would never come close to the beauty she possessed.

time for runs across the beach in tiny bikinis and swim trunks as they raced on the sand. his arms capturing her waist as he tossed her around, feeling the vibrations of her laughter and screams against his skin. a feeling he'd forever cherish.

it all disappeared with a single faded line. everything she knew about their future collapsed with the test barely bigger than the length of her hand. it would affect everything.

it was conflicting. becoming a mother was all she ever dreamed and talked about, when she became older. she'd mention to her curly-haired boyfriend countless times of her dreams of having the mini versions of him running around the house they shared. the longing to see his eyes and curly hair with features of her own on another warm body. their child.

but she wasn't ready. in her mid-twenties, with years of life left to live child-free. tens of grand prix's to attend in support of her mclaren lover, watching 10 feet away from his car. nights to catch up on hours of sleep she lacked from keeping up with lando's lifestyle.

having a kid swept it all off the table. no more late night dalliances, or getting so drunk to the point where lando would have to pull over the car to hold back her hair as she threw up in the bushes.

no more parties at ungodly hours of the night, watching drunk lando stumble his way to the dj booth, giggling over a glass of alcohol at his actions.

no more sleep. she knew she'd be woken up numerous times in the night from the cries of her child, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to give up sleep yet.

and she wasn't sure lando wanted to give up formula one either. obviously, a balance between the two worlds is possible, but she knew he would want to be there with her, and she didn't know if he could.

it scared her. the thought of this changing the dynamic of their relationship on levels she couldn't even begin to think of. she's seen countless videos of how having a child completely changed the way couples worked, good and bad, and she didn't want that fifty-fifty.

she'd sat staring at the test between the tips of her fingers for a solid twenty minutes before she heard a patterned knock she grew familiar with from her beloved boyfriend.

the door muffled his voice just slightly, "darling, you 'right in there?" his hand wrapped around the now cold door handle and twisted it, but it failed to turn as it pressed into his palm.

it was unusual for her to lock the door, she knew he would question it. and she knew she couldn't use the excuse of that she's changing or showering because lando simply didn't care whenever she was. he'd sit and keep her company till she was done with whatever she was doing because it was often what they did. sit in silence, enjoying the presence of one another.

"yeah, I'm fine!" she called out to him in a rushed tone, flinching enough that she nearly dropped the test. she watched as the door knob shook, shoving the stick into the bottom of the trash temporarily. she'd remember to remove it eventually.

she turned on the sink as she hid the box of tests in the depths of the cabinet under the sink. looking at herself in the mirror, she'd wipe away the tears that built in her eyes. she didn't want him to notice, but like always he would.

from the locked door to the second she opened it, he'd watch it. she'd see him leaning on the wall just outside the door, patiently waiting for her to come out to him. he wouldn't question it, he trusted that she would eventually come around to tell him. she always did.

with the frequent trips to the bathroom and the slimmed selection of foods in the fridge, he'd suspect something, but he wouldn't know for sure. not without her word.

because for the time being, it was a secret she kept to herself, as much as she despised secrets. she felt like she was guilty to be hiding something from the person she trusted most in the world.

times when she thought the room was empty, she'd be pacing long ways back and forth with her arms crossed and her face solid. he'd watched her from the doorframe with his arms crossed against his chest, mirroring her position slightly.

times when she'd drop whatever she was doing to rush into the bathroom and spill her guts into the toilet as he held her hair and ran his fingers along the nape of her neck. she claimed it was a stomach bug, but he knew better. he also knew better than to question her words so he said nothing, but made a multitude of soups for her to sip on, taking notice of her now acute taste.

times when she'd cry over the tiniest of things, comforting her in his arms while she sobbed against the fabric of his very worn hoodie that happened to be her favorite.

it wasn't a great shock when she first told him. stuttering over her words as she fumbled with the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt that went well past her fingertips, he could see tears brimming her eyes with her heightened sensitivity.

so when she muttered the words, "i'm pregnant," his world stopped, restarted, reloaded and stopped again when he finally processed the words. though he knew he could've expected it, hearing the confirmation leave her lips left his world tipped sideways.

but he wanted to hear it again, needed to, words breathlessly escaping his lips, "what, love?" he heard her the first time, but he wanted to hear it again. and again and again.

she choked on her words, sobbing out again, "I'm pregnant, lan," he pulled her into his chest, his hand finding it's way to the side of her head as he cradled her, pressing his lips against her hair.

as they swayed, it finally dawned on him, muttering unsure and excitedly against her head, "I'm going to be a dad?" his breathing deepened, his tongue gliding across his lips, then biting at the sensitive flesh. he felt his heart hammer in his chest, nearly comparing to when he first asked the girl out all those years ago. he reminisced the time when the biggest deal he could think of was rejection. now the girl he had crushed on when he was just a teenager just told him she's pregnant. with his kid.

part of him couldn't be happier, they had spent countless nights in bed, lying on their sides facing one another with stupid grins on their faces as they pondered their future together. whatever they wanted, it always had the other in their thoughts and plans.

this was just their plans manifesting faster than they might've hoped, and sure, he wasn't totally certain that it was the right timing after all. but this was their dream, and maybe they just needed time.

time to accept how greatly their life would be affected. he thought about how he'd have to leave her for days, weeks for his career, the few outlying times when she'd travel with him. he knew that would change, leaving her home with a new life to take care of besides her own. he hated the thought of leaving her.

they needed time to think, whether it was together or just by themselves. they needed to figure out how they'd make it through, if they could. which was a question in itself.

they needed to talk because part of her didn't think he would be so accepting of the change life threw them, permanently altering their course of life and the years to follow.

deep inside, they're scared. they knew they would've been, planned or not. it didn't make it any easier. but when he asked such a simple question, it lifted a massive weight that had been carrying on her shoulders. part of her knew he'd always be so accepting. everything is an experience after all.

with every month passed, every growth of the life within her body, he'd mention. he was the nerdy type to compare the size of the baby with fruit. he'd goggle each week with every new development she'd create. it shook his mind to even comprehend. she could make bones, organs and the tiniest lashes of their soon-to-be kid all within the confines of her body. to him, it was sacred.

and of course, he'd tell just about everyone from every team. all the drivers, mechanics, pit crew, team principals, the list goes on and so does his rants about her.

countless photos of appreciation for her on his social media, after all she was carrying his child and he was ecstatic. he'd spent every waking moment he could with her, his hands always somewhere on her, prodominantly on her growing stomach.

when he felt the first kick, he pulled his hand away sharply, looking at her with a dropped jaw and wide eyes, "it kicked me!" he'd exclaim and she slapped his shoulder, scolding him.

"don't call the baby an 'it!'"

"what else am I supposed to call it?" again, earning another slap to his bicep, and he'd look at her with a growing confused look.

"stop slapping me!" he held up his arms in defense as she scowled at him, her arms crossed over her chest. she pursed her lips before sighing as he'd replace his hand on her stomach.

"babe, I don't think this baby likes me," he looked between his hand and her eyes, feeling the movement under his palm. it was a weird sensation, something he'd never expect to feel so soon, or at all.

all she could do was laugh at the stupid expression across his face as he looked back and forth in bewilderment. the warmth from his hand, and the small calluses sent goosebumps across her skin. it incited a smirk to take place on his face, but she slapped it off. he'd expect to feel more of those as the months went by, especially with all the sly comments she'd hear slip past his lips.

with every ultrasound appointment, he'd be there. he'd make sure of it, no matter where he was or what he was doing. she also scheduled them in accordance to his race and where in the world it took place.

every time, his eyes would be locked on the screen that projected his child, a part of him in another life form. a smile always creeping into his face as he held her cold hand. more often than not, he'd get curious and try to become the technician, stealing the equipment out of the professional's hand. his girlfriend would scold him like he was some sort of dog. in response he'd groan, rolling his eyes at her.

he'd still try though, and the technician laughed it off. he'd make comments to her in reassurance, "babe, i've got this," he'd tell him as his hand with the wand came closer to her stomach.

"where's your degree then?" she snapped back, giggling at his sudden pause before he shrugged, waving it off his other hand.

" 's at home."

when the time finally came to birth their new life into the world, god did lando panic. everything he had prepared himself with went out the window when she'd mutter the words he'd been waiting to hear.

"lando," she mumbled as she sat on their couch, turning to him with wide eyes, "I think it's time." her sleeve-covered hands were at her face as she bit nervously on her nails.

he'd stutter over his words, hands in his hair, "you're joking." he'd say repeatedly as he rushed around the apartment, grabbing things. he was the type to grab everything and forget her still on the couch.

she'd call him on her phone when she sees him in his car from the window, through the pain, she laughed at him, "forget something, norris?"

"no, darling, I've got everything-" she'd see his movement pause, his hand returning to his hair, "fuck!"

when he'd come back to help her, she was nearly collapsed with laughter despite the pain she felt through her body.

"stop laughing at me!" he whined but he was laughing with her. nonetheless, they'd get to the car.

she was in labor for hours, crunching on ice chips that he'd fed her carefully. he'd massage her shoulders, hold her hand when contractions got particularly unbearable. he knew not to mumble bullshit words of encouragement, a word of advice from his mum, advice he'd gladly listen to.

instead he'd show her he was there by doing everything she asked until it was time to actually deliver their child they've been waiting 9 months to finally meet.

with a pale face, lando would comment, "I think one kid is fine after all." she'd roll her eyes at his words as she held their daughter in her arms, already seeing themselves in her. she was exhausted and he knew. he put her hair up, cooing words of appreciation to her now that all was done. he took care of her.

he'd remember call his mum later to tell her thank you.

[heartysworld]

Match points and podiums // Lewis Hamilton

A/N: I literally got the idea for this while I was watching the Wimbledon finale. I feel like I rushed it a bit, but I couldn't wait to post it for you guys, so here it is! I might edit it later on and add some bits but for now I'm quite happy with the result. Hope you enjoy it!

W.C.: 4.5k

MASTERLIST

You remember the first time you met Lewis like it was yesterday. It was at a charity event organized by mutual friends in Monaco. You were there as part of a tennis exhibition, and Lewis was there as an honor guest, fresh off another Grand Prix win. The evening was filled with laughter, champagne, and the mingling of two very different worlds—tennis and racing.

You had just finished another match, bringing home yet another win, and were chatting with some guests when Lewis approached you. He had a warm smile that reached his eyes, and there was an undeniable charm about him.

"Hello, I'm Lewis, it is very nice to meet you" he said, extending his hand. "I caught some of your match earlier. You were incredible out there."

You shook his hand, feeling a spark of something indescribable as a light pinkish color made its way to your cheeks. "Thank you, Lewis. I'm a big fan of your work on the track. Congratulations on your recent win."

From that moment on, something snapped deep inside your chest, making it impossible to look at another man the same way you looked at Lewis. His eyes sparkled with an indescribable force that felt like a magnet pulling a part inside of you towards him. His presence was otherworldly, that of a man who knew what he wanted and how to achieve it without ever giving up.

 As the months after the charity event passed you bonded over your shared dedication to your respective sports, your drive to be the best, and your love for adventure. Dates were often spontaneous, like a midnight drive along the coast or a quick flight to a secluded beach. Your love story was one of passion, mutual respect, and a deep connection that neither of you had ever felt before.

You began making appearances at each other’s’ sporting events, capturing the attention of both the media and the fans. Every time you had a free second, you were there to support Lewis- Bahrain, Silverstone, Singapore, and other locations thorough the Formula 1 season. Lewis respectively did the same, supporting you from the stands of your tennis tournaments. That was the beginning of your journey together.

One of your most cherished memories is from a summer evening in Spain. Lewis had taken you on vacation there during his summer break mid-season.

It wasn’t long before Lewis and you fell deeply in love. He admired your tenacity on the court, and you admired his precision on the track. You found comfort in each other’s presence, and soon, your lives began to intertwine even more. You met his closest friends and family members and were slowly eased into the Hamilton family dynamics. You passed the Roscoe approval test as Lewis’ mother Carmen liked to call it. The bulldog enjoyed your presence around the house whenever you were visiting, searching for you thorough the rooms of Lewis’ home whenever he heard your voice echoing from somewhere.

On your third night there, he surprised you with a candlelit dinner on the rooftop of your hotel, overlooking the city of Barcelona. The two of you talked for hours about your dreams, fears, and everything in between, the topic of your athletic careers long forgotten at that moment. Lewis had made it his priority to put his racing career on hold whenever he was with you. He refused to risk the possibility of losing one of the best things in life to his career that would end in the next couple of years. He loved racing, it’s been part of more than half his life, but you, he planned on keeping you forever.

"Do you ever think about the future?" Lewis asked, his eyes reflecting the twinkling city lights. The edges of his lips curved upwards as his eyes roamed over your features, taking note on every detail, every mole, freckle and dimple.

"All the time," you replied, reaching for his hand. "I want a family, a place to call home, and someone to share it all with. It has always been a dream of mine to become a mother. When I was a child I used to say that a family was the second thing, I desired the most after a Wimbledon trophy.’’ You said as you laughed at the last part, causing Lewis to smile even more at the thought of little you.

He smiled, squeezing your hand gently. "I want that too. And I want to make this come true with you by my side."

A year later, you and Lewis got married in a beautiful ceremony surrounded by family and friends. The wedding was a blend of elegance and simplicity, much like your relationship. You exchanged vows under a canopy of flowers, promising to support each other through every victory and defeat, every joy and challenge. The moment you exchanged your wedding vowels would forever remain engraved in your brain. You began first, holding a small piece of paper where your vows were written. You insisted on reading them as you feared your mind might betray you at the most important moment of your life.

As his fingers gently brushed against the skin of your wrist, a shiver of delight danced down your spine. It was a soft, almost ethereal caress, starting at the base of your neck and cascading downwards like a whisper of a breeze. The touch sent a warm, tingling sensation through your entire body, making your heart flutter and your breath hitch. It was as if his touch ignited tiny sparks of electricity, leaving a trail of warmth and anticipation in its wake. The connection between you felt electric, each shiver a testament to the depth of your feelings and the magic of the moment.

‘’Lewis, from the moment I met you I felt like I was being pulled towards a missing piece from myself. All my life I’ve been searching for a person who is willing to love and support me despite the hectic life I lead. I never thought I would ever meet someone as charming, loveable, and supportive as you. For the past three years you’ve done nothing but be by my side and hold my hand during the happy and sad moments I faced both in my personal and professional life. I promise to do the same for you, to be your biggest supporter in all aspects of life, to build a life with you, and make all of our dreams come true.’’

You were sobbing by the time you finished talking. As you looked at your husband-to-be you saw his eyes glistening with tears as he barely managed to hold them in. You mouthed a silent ‘’I love you’’ in his direction, receiving a gentle squeeze of your hand as a response.

Someone from the guests sobbed even louder, followed by the loud blow of their nose in a napkin, which caused everyone to laugh, including you and Lewis.

‘’My love, the light of my life, meeting you felt like finding the last missing piece of a puzzle I’ve been trying to complete ever since I took my first breath on this earth. I had lost all hope of finding the right person in this lifetime, but then I met you. Today, I vow to love you with the same passion and dedication that you bring to the court. I vow to support you through every challenge, to celebrate every victory, and to be the best husband and father I can be. Together, we will create a beautiful life, full of love, laughter, and shared dreams. Today, I give you my heart, my soul, and my forever."

Not long after, you found yourself pregnant with baby Amelia. It was a moment of pure joy and excitement. Lewis was over the moon, already envisioning the adventures you’d have as a family and remembering all the conversations you’d had regarding that special moment.

By the time he finished talking, you could see your and Lewis’ parents wiping tears from underneath their eyes. This was one of the most intimate and important moments of your life and you were happy that your families were there to share it with you two.

You continued to play tennis, balancing your passion for the sport with your growing family. Lewis was your rock, always there to support you, even when you had to stop playing mid-season due to your pregnancy. He held your hand through the morning sickness, the cravings, and the emotional rollercoaster, always reminding you of the incredible journey you were on together.

The years passed in a blur of sleepless nights, first steps, and family holidays. Amelia grew up surrounded by the world of sports, watching you on the tennis court and Lewis on the racetrack. She adored both of you and often tried to emulate your moves, whether it was swinging one of your rackets or pretending to drive a race car.

One summer afternoon, as you napped after a particularly exhausting day, Lewis and Amelia sat down to watch the Wimbledon final together. The living room was filled with the sounds of the match and Amelia’s excited chatter.

“Daddy, look at that serve! Do you think I can do that one day?” she asked, her eyes wide with admiration.

Lewis chuckled, pulling her close. “Of course, sweetheart. You can do anything you set your mind to. Remember, your mom is one of the best tennis players in the world. It’s in your blood.”

“I want to play tennis, Daddy. I want to see my name on the honor board at Wimbledon, just like mommy,” she declared with determination.

Lewis smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “That’s a wonderful dream, Amelia. But first, we have to wait for baby brother to arrive. Mommy needs to take care of him and then she can get back to playing.”

Amelia’s face lit up with excitement. “I can’t wait to watch with my brother! We’ll both cheer for mommy together.”

The scent of freshly popped popcorn lingered in the air, and you could hear the soft giggles of your daughter, Amelia, mingling with the excited commentary. You stretched, feeling the weight of pregnancy slowing you down, but a smile tugged at your lips as you realized Lewis and Amelia were watching Wimbledon together.

You quietly walked into the living room, leaning against the doorway as you watched them. Lewis was sitting on the couch, Amelia snuggled up next to him, both of them fully engrossed in the match. Amelia’s eyes are wide with admiration as she watches the players on the screen, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride and love for your little family.

 “And I’ll be so proud to have both of you cheering for me,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

Lewis and Amelia turned to look at you, smiles spreading across their faces. Lewis stood up and walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you gently. “How was your nap, love?” he asked softly.

“It was good,” you reply, resting your head against his chest. “Hearing Amelia talk about her dreams made it even better.”

Amelia runs over and hugs your legs, looking up at you with bright eyes. “Mommy! Can we play tennis together when baby brother is here?”

You laugh softly, running your fingers through her curly hair. “Of course, sweetheart. We’ll play as much as you want.”

The match was intense, each point hard-fought, but the support of your family carried you through. You could see Lewis and Amelia in the stands, their faces filled with anticipation and pride. Next to them, your mother held Oliver, now two years old, who clapped enthusiastically every time you scored a point, your father right next to them, trying to entertain the toddler as much as possible.

Two years later, the atmosphere at Wimbledon was electric as you stepped onto the green court. You had worked tirelessly to get back into peak condition, driven by the dream of seeing your name on that honor board as Amelia had said before.

When you finally scored the last, winning point, the sound of the crowd’s cheers was deafening. Tears filled your eyes as you raised your racket in triumph, overwhelmed by the moment. You wasted no time running towards the stands and finding your family. Amelia was the first to latch onto your leg, screaming in happiness. Seconds later, you felt two strong arms envelop you in a familiar embrace you’d always recognize.

‘’ I did it Lew, I did it!’’ you sobbed as your hands cupped his face, bringing his lips towards yours in a rushed kiss, overwhelmed by all the emotions you were feeling at that moment.’’

‘’ You did it love! You fucking did it! I told you it would happen, I never lost hope in you!’’ your husband said as he pulled you against his chest. Moments later you felt everyone around you cheering and congratulating you.

During the post-match interview, a reporter asked, “How are you feeling right now, and what has it taken to get here?”

You took a deep breath, steadying your voice. “It’s hard to put into words how much this means to me. When I was little, I used to help my father build furniture to make enough money to support my passion for tennis. My parents’ unwavering support allowed me to pursue my dreams, and I couldn’t have done it without them. My husband, Lewis, and our children, Amelia and Oliver, have been my rock. Two years ago, I overheard Amelia telling Lewis that she wanted to see both our names on the honor board at Wimbledon. That moment has stayed with me and pushed me to keep going.”

BONUS

The crowd’s applause was thunderous as you finished speaking. You glanced up at Lewis, who was beaming with pride. Amelia was jumping up and down, her excitement infectious.

Later that year in Abu Dhabi, the atmosphere was tense. Lewis was on the verge of his eighth championship, and the entire world was watching. You were in the Ferrari garage with Amelia while baby Oliver stayed home in the company of both of his grandmothers. Your heart was pounding with every lap he completed.

Lewis needed to finish at least fourth to secure the championship, but you knew how much he wanted to win. The final laps were nail-biting, with Max pushing hard on the gas pedal behind your husband. But Lewis’s skill and determination shone through, and when he crossed the finish line in first place, the crowd erupted.

"Lewis Hamilton rounds the final corner, the crowd on their feet, the tension electric! And he crosses the line! Lewis Hamilton wins the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix and secures his eighth World Drivers' Championship! What a monumental achievement! History has been made here today in the most thrilling fashion!

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just witnessed one of the greatest moments in the history of motorsport. Lewis Hamilton, defying all odds, with determination, skill, and sheer brilliance, has etched his name in the annals of Formula 1 forever. Eight championships, surpassing the legends of our sport, and cementing his place as the most successful driver in F1 history.

This season has been a rollercoaster of emotions, challenges, and intense competition, but once again, Lewis has shown why he is the master of his craft. His relentless pursuit of excellence, his unwavering focus, and his incredible talent have brought him to this pinnacle moment.

Congratulations, Lewis! You are a true champion, an inspiration to millions, and a testament to what can be achieved with heart, determination, and belief. What a day, what a race, what a champion! Lewis Hamilton, the 2024 Formula 1 World Drivers' Champion!"

You could see his body shake as he stepped out of the car. His father, Anthony was the first to get to his, giving him the time he needed to process everything he was feeling, before embracing his son in much much-needed hug You pushed through the crowd, holding Amelia’s hand. When Lewis saw you, he rushed over, pulling the two of you into a tight embrace.

He kissed you deeply, not caring about the cameras or the crowd. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

You couldn’t hold back your tears as you nodded, “Yes, we did.”

During the trophy ceremony, Lewis pointed his trophy towards you and your daughter, his father standing proudly beside you. He then placed his hand on his heart, looking at you with so much love that it took your breath away.

In the post-race interview, Lewis shared the news that shocked the racing world. “It’s been an incredible journey, and I’m grateful for every moment. But now, it’s time to focus on my family. I couldn’t have done any of this without their support, and I’m excited for this next chapter of our lives.”

As the crowd outside gave him a standing ovation, you knew that no matter where life took you next, you’d face it together, as a family.

Back home, life settled into a new rhythm. Without the constant travel and pressure of racing, Lewis threw himself into being a full-time dad and husband. You balanced your tennis career with family life, savoring every moment.

One evening, after putting the kids to bed, you and Lewis sat on the balcony of your Monaco apartment, watching the night sky. He held your hand, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

“I never imagined life could be this perfect,” he said softly. “Thank you for being my rock, my partner, and my best friend.”

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “We’ve been through so much together, and I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.”

Lewis turned to you, his eyes filled with love. “Here’s to the next adventure, whatever it may be.” You clinked your glasses together, knowing that no matter what the future held, you’d face it side by side, surrounded by the love of your family.

MASTERLIST

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated

[ricciardosheart]

Like all the drivers, who do you think will do a nice valentine day like celebration with flowers and dinner and all the stuff ?? and can you elaborate

this is the worst thing I may have written lol, not proud of it at all should I do a part 2 with the other driver ?????

1. Charles Leclerc

The Classic Romantic with Heartfelt Gestures

Charles is deeply in touch with his emotions, which makes him the kind of guy who would plan Valentine’s Day weeks in advance, wanting everything to be perfect. Growing up in Monaco, he knows all the beautiful spots hidden away from the hustle of city life. He’d probably pick a place that’s meaningful to both of you, like where you first met or a favorite quiet corner by the sea. Charles is attentive to detail—expect a well-thought-out dinner reservation at a charming, cozy restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean, or maybe a private rooftop dinner just for the two of you.

He’s a gentleman, so flowers are a must, but they won’t just be any flowers—he’ll know your favorite kind and make sure it’s personal. If you love roses, they’ll be there, but if you’ve once mentioned peonies in passing, that’s what you’ll receive.

The Day:

Morning: You’ll wake up to a hand-written note and breakfast he’s picked out from a local cafe. The note will be full of sweet little reminders of why he loves you.

Afternoon: He’ll take you to an art museum or for a scenic walk, something low-key but filled with moments to talk and connect.

Evening: Dinner will be elegant yet intimate, followed by a moonlit walk along the beach, with Charles wrapping his arm around you and maybe a stop for dessert at his favorite ice cream spot.

Gift: Something deeply personal—a delicate necklace or bracelet, possibly engraved, to remind you of a special moment you’ve shared.

2. Daniel Ricciardo

The Playful, Yet Deeply Affectionate Lover

Daniel is a ray of sunshine, and his Valentine’s Day celebration would be full of laughter, teasing, and spontaneous moments. He’s the guy who wakes you up with a goofy grin, presents you with a bouquet of colorful wildflowers, and tells you he has a surprise planned. His idea of romance blends fun with affection—so the day would start with some sort of adventure, like go-karting or even a silly scavenger hunt around the house or town. He thrives on shared experiences, so the activities would reflect that.

For Daniel, it's all about making you smile, so he might plan something quirky like a paint-and-sip class, where you both create art together. He’ll capture your playful spirit with things that allow you both to let loose and laugh, but he’ll still balance that with quiet moments where he holds your hand and tells you how much you mean to him.

The Day:

Morning: Wakes you up with breakfast in bed, made up of all your favorite things—coffee, pancakes, and a handpicked playlist that he’s curated just for you. He might even crack a few jokes or tell you to get ready for a day full of surprises.

Afternoon: Something spontaneous and fun—think go-karting, hiking, or visiting an amusement park where he can joke around, but he’s still holding your hand the entire time.

Evening: The playful vibe would continue with a casual dinner at a hidden gem of a restaurant or a private, at-home cooking experience where you both make pizzas together. Expect him to serenade you, with fake seriousness, over dinner or sneak in funny comments to make you laugh.

Gift: It could be something with an inside joke—a quirky piece of art or even a photo album capturing fun moments throughout your relationship, proving that he pays attention to the details that make you unique.

3. Lewis Hamilton

The Sophisticated Gentleman with a Deep Emotional Side

Lewis has a polished, luxurious vibe, but he’s also incredibly spiritual and mindful. Valentine’s Day with Lewis would be an experience of relaxation, intimacy, and connection, blending his love for wellness with moments of luxury. He’d begin the day with something to relax and pamper you both—a spa day, perhaps, where you can unwind with massages and enjoy a couple’s treatment. Lewis has a strong sense of adventure, so he might fly you to a romantic destination (Paris, anyone?) for a quick getaway to make the day extra special.

He’s likely to organize a multi-part day, where he surprises you with little thoughtful moments throughout. Lewis is deeply affectionate and tuned into his partner’s needs, so every part of the day would be curated with care. His love language is likely a combination of quality time and thoughtful gifts, so expect something deeply meaningful from him that reflects both his world and your relationship.

The Day:

Morning: A thoughtful breakfast that involves your favorite healthy treats—he’s a fan of wellness, so you might start with a smoothie bowl or avocado toast delivered to your bedside while he plays soft music in the background.

Afternoon: A spa retreat or a mindfulness experience like yoga together, reflecting his love for balance and relaxation. Or, he might fly you to a city like Paris or Rome, where the day continues in style.

Evening: A luxurious dinner at a Michelin-starred restaurant or something private and intimate, with candlelight and fine wine. He’ll make sure the evening feels like a grand event, from the venue to his impeccable suit.

Gift: Expect a high-end, thoughtful present—perhaps a designer bag or fine jewelry, but with a touch of personalization, like an engraving or a connection to something special between you both.

4. Carlos Sainz

The Sincere, Down-to-Earth Romantic

Carlos is grounded and sincere, and that translates into his approach to love. He isn’t the type to make grand, flashy gestures, but everything he does will be filled with genuine care and attention. Valentine’s Day with Carlos would feel like home—warm, comforting, and intimate. He’s the kind of guy who would rather have a meaningful, personal dinner with you than do something extravagant, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less special.

Carlos is big on family, so don’t be surprised if he incorporates elements that show how much he values building a life with you. Expect him to make dinner plans at a cozy, intimate restaurant where you can enjoy each other’s company without too many distractions, or he might even cook with you at home—something like Spanish tapas, a nod to his heritage.

The Day:

Morning: Carlos would surprise you with breakfast in bed, or maybe even start the day with a quiet morning walk through a park, hand in hand, just enjoying each other’s company.

Afternoon: A laid-back activity like a scenic drive through the countryside or a visit to a local vineyard, where you can talk and laugh together, building memories in a relaxed setting.

Evening: A cozy dinner at a small, romantic restaurant with lots of good food and conversation. Or, he might cook with you, laughing and enjoying the time spent creating a meal together.

Gift: Carlos would likely give you something thoughtful, like a piece of jewelry with sentimental value or a keepsake that represents a milestone in your relationship.

5. George Russell

The Gentlemanly Perfectionist with Thoughtful Surprises

George is the definition of a gentleman, and his Valentine’s Day would reflect that. He’d plan meticulously, wanting to make sure every detail is perfect. He’s a romantic at heart and would enjoy doing things by the book, but with an extra touch of thoughtfulness to make sure you feel completely special. His day would be elegant and tasteful—expect him to show up with a perfectly arranged bouquet of roses, beautifully presented and likely paired with your favorite chocolates or a sweet card.

He’s also one for fine dining, so he’d probably make reservations at a high-end restaurant with an incredible view, knowing that atmosphere is key. George is the type who takes his time to understand his partner, so every part of the day would be designed around things he knows you love.

The Day:

Morning: You’ll wake up to George making breakfast, complete with freshly brewed coffee and something sweet like pastries or pancakes. He’d present it to you with a smile, making sure you feel pampered from the start.

Afternoon: You might spend the afternoon doing something charming like visiting a museum or going for a scenic drive, talking and sharing moments that feel effortless.

Evening: A reservation at an upscale restaurant with a view, where he’s likely dressed in a sharp suit. He’d hold the door for you, pull out your chair, and give you all his attention over a candlelit dinner.

Gift: Expect something elegant and timeless—he might gift you a beautiful watch or piece of jewelry that’s carefully chosen to suit your style.

6. Lando Norris

The Playful, Laid-Back Romantic with a Fun Twist

Lando’s young, fun-loving personality means that Valentine’s Day with him would be less about formality and more about having a great time together. He’s spontaneous and full of energy, so you can expect surprises throughout the day—he might wake you up with a cheeky “Happy Valentine’s!” and a box of donuts instead of flowers, just to keep things light-hearted.

He’s all about shared experiences, so his day would likely revolve around activities that allow you to bond, laugh, and make memories. He’s not overly traditional, so while you might not get a candlelit dinner at a Michelin-star restaurant, you’ll probably get something that feels much more personal and in tune with your relationship.

The Day:

Morning: Lando might start the day with a cute, casual breakfast, surprising you with something fun like pancakes shaped like hearts or donuts from your favorite bakery.

Afternoon: A playful date activity like bowling, go-karting, or mini-golf—something competitive where you can tease each other and have a good laugh.

Evening: A casual but meaningful dinner, maybe at a fun spot like a food truck park or a quirky, themed restaurant. He’d want to keep things relaxed and full of laughs.

Gift: Expect something playful but thoughtful, like a scrapbook of memories or a fun gadget he knows you’d love—something that shows he’s been paying attention.

7. Pierre Gasly

The Stylish, Thoughtful Romantic

Pierre has a keen sense of style and charm, and he’d bring that into his Valentine’s Day celebration. He’s the type to blend luxury with personal touches, making sure the day feels both special and unique to you. Pierre would likely plan a surprise date or even a mini getaway to somewhere breathtaking, because he’s all about creating moments that feel like something out of a movie.

You can expect him to show up with an extravagant bouquet of flowers, maybe something exotic or rare to symbolize how special you are to him. He’s also very attentive and would make sure every detail of the day aligns with what you love, from the food to the ambiance.

The Day:

Morning: Pierre would surprise you with breakfast in bed, complete with fresh croissants, coffee, and maybe even a handwritten note expressing his feelings.

Afternoon: A surprise trip to a scenic destination—a vineyard, a boutique hotel, or somewhere beautiful where you can take photos and just enjoy being together.

Evening: Dinner at an upscale restaurant with a gorgeous view, where he’d dress impeccably and treat you to a romantic evening filled with great food and conversation.

Gift: Pierre would give you something high-end but meaningful, like a designer handbag or jewelry, carefully chosen to suit your style.

8. Fernando Alonso

The Intense, Passionate Romantic

Fernando’s approach to Valentine’s Day would be filled with intensity and passion, but in a way that’s deeply thoughtful. He’s not into doing things just for the sake of it—he’d plan a day that feels meaningful, where you can both escape from the world and enjoy each other’s company in a quiet, intimate setting. He’s likely to choose a location off the beaten path, maybe a secluded cabin in the mountains or a hidden restaurant that only locals know about.

Fernando would make sure the day feels deeply connected—he’s not one for superficial gestures, so everything he does would have emotional weight. He’s likely to skip the big bouquet of roses for something more understated but significant, like a simple arrangement of flowers you once mentioned were your favorite.

The Day:

Morning: Fernando would start the day with a simple but meaningful gesture—perhaps coffee together while watching the sunrise, reflecting his love for quiet, peaceful moments.

Afternoon: A private, scenic getaway—somewhere far from the crowds, where you can enjoy the beauty of nature or explore a new place together.

Evening: Dinner at a secluded restaurant or a meal he’s prepared himself, with the two of you enjoying wine and conversation in front of a fireplace or overlooking a beautiful view.

Gift: Fernando’s gift would be deeply personal, something that speaks to the connection you share—perhaps an old book he knows you’d love, or a keepsake that ties into a significant memory between you two.

Each of these drivers would bring their own flair to Valentine’s Day, reflecting their personalities in unique ways. Whether it’s Charles’s heartfelt classic romance or Daniel’s playful yet affectionate vibe, every driver has a different way of showing their love. Which one resonates with the kind of Valentine's Day you’d love to experience?

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Championship love

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max one-shot inspired by him winning the championship for the fourth time !!

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my masterlist.

You've been by Max's side for as long as you can remember. Teenagers with wild dreams and even wilder hearts, you both grew up together—through the awkward phases, the endless karting weekends, and the late-night phone calls where he shared his hopes of making it big in Formula 1. And he did. You’ve celebrated every step of his journey, but nothing compares to how you’ve marked each of his world championships together.

2011: The first time Max won the championship, it felt surreal. You were in Abu Dhabi, tears streaming down your face as he crossed the finish line and screamed over the radio. That night, back in the hotel room, it was just the two of you. Max was exhausted but glowing with pride, the trophy on the bedside table. He pulled you into his lap and kissed you like it was the first time, whispering, “This is just the beginning.”

2022: His second championship was no less thrilling. Max insisted on celebrating at home in Monaco, just the two of you again. He cooked you dinner—well, tried to. Half-burnt pasta and wine turned into laughter and slow dancing in the kitchen. He held you close, murmuring, “I couldn’t have done this without you.” You knew he meant it.

2023: The third title was chaotic—Sprint race in Qatar. But later that night, back at the motorhome, Max pulled you aside. His team was celebrating loudly in the background, but his focus was entirely on you. “Three-time world champion,” he said, smirking. “But being yours is still my favorite title.”

And now, here you are in Las Vegas. Max’s fourth championship.

The moment he crosses the line, you can barely hear the roar of the crowd over your own cheering. Your chest swells with pride as the fireworks explode over the track. It feels like a culmination of everything you’ve built together—his hard work, your unwavering support, and the love that’s only grown stronger with time.

Later that night, the team throws a party in one of the grand casinos. The celebration is lavish, the energy electric, but Max never lets go of your hand. Every so often, he leans down to kiss your temple or whispers something only for you to hear. He’s glowing, but there’s something else in his eyes—a secret, maybe, or anticipation.

Hours later, he whisks you away from the crowd, leading you to the rooftop of your hotel. The view is breathtaking—Las Vegas glittering like a sea of stars, a warm breeze wrapping around you both. You laugh, spinning to face him. “What are we doing up here?”

Max looks at you, his blue eyes soft and steady. He takes your hands in his, thumbs brushing over your knuckles. “I wanted to end this night with just us,” he says. “Like we always do.”

Your heart swells. “You’re getting sentimental, Verstappen.”

He chuckles but doesn’t look away. “I have a good reason.”

Before you can ask what he means, Max drops to one knee.

Time stops.

Your breath catches as he pulls a small velvet box from his pocket. “You’ve been with me through everything—every win, every loss, every moment in between. I can’t imagine doing this without you. I don’t want to do this without you.” He opens the box, revealing a stunning ring that glitters even brighter than the city lights. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision as you nod frantically, a smile breaking across your face. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “Of course, yes.”

Max stands, slipping the ring onto your finger before pulling you into his arms. The kiss you share feels like every dream you’ve ever had coming true.

“You just made this the best championship celebration ever,” you say against his lips.

He grins, pressing his forehead to yours. “I think this one’s my favorite too.”

Under the Vegas sky, with the world at your feet, you know this moment is just the beginning of a lifetime of celebrations—together.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° no, nothing good starts

♡ a/n — for my new F1 x Bllk series !

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — bachira meguru x fem! reader, PR manager! reader, F1 racer! bachira, no established relationship, bachira is crazy, mentions of a car crash, reader slowly liking bachira, mentions of drinking (kinda) , bachira is a menace and loves bothering reader

♡ synopsis — Meguru Bachira was known for one thing in the F1 world, his insanity. You just hoped you could hold onto your own when living with him.

Bachira Meguru was chaos wrapped in charm.

His driving style was infamous in the world of Formula 1—wild, unorthodox, and borderline dangerous. Where others played it safe, he took every risk imaginable. He was the kind of driver who kept engineers up at night, wringing their hands over the longevity of car parts. Fans loved him for his unpredictability, but team managers hated him for the same reason. And now, thanks to his growing reputation for off-track antics, you had been saddled with the impossible task of taming him.

Your official title was PR Manager, but your actual job was more like a glorified babysitter. You’d been assigned to Bachira after an incident involving an unauthorized rooftop party in Monaco, complete with fireworks, which ended with him being escorted out by police.

The FIA had been furious.

The team had been livid.

And you? You were just trying to survive.

You met him on a Thursday afternoon, standing outside the team’s garage. He greeted you with a grin so wide it made your cheeks hurt just looking at it.

“Ohhh, you must be [Name]!” he exclaimed, practically bouncing on his feet. “They told me I was getting a PR babysitter. You’re cuter than I expected.”

You gave him a tight-lipped smile, refusing to rise to his bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t singlehandedly ruin this team’s reputation. Let’s keep the compliments to a minimum, shall we?”

He gasped, dramatically clutching his chest. “So cold! I like you already.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. This was going to be a long season.

For the first week, he tested every boundary you set.

He snuck out of meetings, ignored curfews, and somehow managed to get himself banned from an entire bar in Barcelona after an incident involving a mechanical bull. You spent more time cleaning up his messes than actually managing his public image.

And then there were the nights.

Bachira was a nocturnal creature, disappearing after dinner only to resurface hours later with stories of his latest escapades. You’d find him perched on rooftops, wandering city streets, or, on one memorable occasion, attempting to start a drum circle with strangers in the park.

“You’re impossible,” you told him one night, dragging him back to the hotel after finding him trying to climb a lamppost.

He just laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “And you love it.”

Race day in Spa-Francorchamps was a nightmare.

The infamous Belgian track was wet from an earlier rainstorm, the slick surface making the already dangerous circuit even more treacherous. Everyone was on edge—the drivers, the engineers, the fans.

Everyone except Bachira.

He was practically vibrating with excitement as he climbed into his car, flashing you a grin through the visor of his helmet. “Don’t worry, [Name],” he said over the radio. “I’ll put on a good show for you.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” you muttered, watching as he pulled out of the garage.

The race started smoothly enough, but it didn’t take long for things to spiral. Bachira’s car darted through the pack like a predator hunting prey, taking corners at impossible angles and threading the needle between rival cars.

Your heart was in your throat as you watched him move into P4, his sights clearly set on the three cars ahead of him.

“Meguru, slow down,” you said into the headset, your voice tight with worry. “The track’s dangerous, and you’re pushing too hard.”

“Pushing is the fun part,” he replied, his tone light and teasing.

“Meguru, I’m serious,” you pressed. “Wait for an opening. Don’t force it.”

But he wasn’t listening.

You watched in horror as he tried to squeeze his car into a gap that didn’t exist, the tires screeching as he fought for control. And then, in an instant, it all went wrong.

The back end of his car clipped another, sending him spinning off the track and into the gravel. The sound of crunching metal filled your ears, followed by static as the radio cut out.

Your heart stopped.

“Meguru?” you said, your voice shaking. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, there was nothing. Then, through the crackling static, you heard it: laughter.

“Meguru!” you snapped, equal parts furious and terrified. “Answer me!”

“That was awesome!” he said, his voice crackling through the headset. “Did you see that drift?”

Your knees nearly buckled with relief, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “Awesome?! You could’ve been seriously hurt, you idiot!”

“Eh, I’m fine,” he said, still laughing. “A little gravel never hurt anyone.”

You ripped off the headset, turning away from the pit wall as your hands shook. He was fine, but you weren’t sure you’d survive working with him.

Later that night, you found him sprawled on the couch in your shared hotel suite, completely unbothered.

“Hey, [Name],” he said, waving at you with a chip in hand. “Want some?”

You stared at him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Do you have any idea how close you came to disaster today?”

He shrugged, popping another chip into his mouth. “Close, but not quite.”

“That’s not the point!” you snapped, storming over to him. “You scared the hell out of me, Meguru!”

His grin faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer. “You were scared for me?”

“Of course I was scared for you, you maniac!” you shouted, throwing your hands up. “You could’ve died out there, and you’re sitting here eating chips like it’s no big deal!”

He sat up, tilting his head as he studied you. “You’re cute when you’re worried, you know that?”

“Meguru, I’m serious!”

“I know,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You sighed, sitting down beside him. “You can’t keep doing this, Meguru. One of these days, you’re not going to walk away from a crash, and then what?”

He leaned back, his grin returning. “Then I guess I’ll have to haunt you.”

You glared at him, but he just laughed, the sound warm and infectious. Despite your frustration, you couldn’t help but smile.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, leaning back against the couch.

“And you love it,” he teased, nudging you with his elbow.

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew he was right.

idk what happened recently but i hate everything i write, hope this was still good :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[its-avalon-08]

the paths we didn't take (cl16)

part3!

multipart story! part 1 part 2

Summary : Years ago, Charles Leclerc and Y/N promised to let each other go—for his dreams, for her freedom. No calls, no texts, just memories they buried deep. But when fate reunites them in Monaco, old scars and unresolved feelings resurface. Some loves are unforgettable, but can they find their way back, or is it too late?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Chapter 3: "The End of Us"

Graduation night was a blur of laughter, hugs, and the echoing sound of congratulatory cheers. The air was warm and thick with excitement, and the whole school had gathered for one last celebration. Charles and Y/N, though, barely noticed the festivities. The world around them felt distant, like they were in their own bubble, separated from the noise.

Charles stood with a wide grin on his face, surrounded by his friends. He had received the call that morning. Formula 2 had offered him a spot, and as much as he should have been celebrating with everyone else, his thoughts kept drifting back to the girl who had always been by his side. Y/N was now talking to a group of her friends, but her eyes kept flickering toward him, as if they both knew this night would end differently than they had imagined.

Y/N stood near the refreshment table, trying to focus on the conversation, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the acceptance letter she had gotten just that afternoon. She had been accepted into her dream college, the one she had worked so hard for. But as much as she had longed for this moment, a part of her felt a sense of dread growing in her chest.

She glanced at Charles across the room. He caught her gaze and smiled that smile—the one that had been hers for so long. She smiled back, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

The party continued late into the night, but as the evening drew to a close, the crowd thinned out. The music softened, and the chatter faded. Charles and Y/N, finding themselves alone once again, slipped away from the remaining group of students. They made their way to the same rooftop where they had sat so many times before, where their relationship had been built on the innocence of childhood and the promises of forever.

The city lights below them flickered like a sea of stars. Y/N sat on the edge of the roof, staring at the sky. Her hands rested on her knees, but her fingers trembled slightly. She could feel the finality of this night creeping in. The moment they both knew was coming.

Charles stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the same sky, his heart pounding. He wanted to reach out, to pull her close and say something—anything—that would make this easier. But the words wouldn’t come.

“You did it,” Y/N said softly, breaking the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re going to Formula 2.” She turned to face him, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he was struggling with the same emotions.

Charles nodded, but there was a bittersweet smile on his face. “I did.”

“I’m proud of you, Charles. You worked so hard for this.” Y/N swallowed hard, trying to steady her breath. “You deserve it.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he said quietly, his voice laced with raw emotion. “You’ve always been here. I know I’ve been distracted, with racing and everything, but you’ve always been here.”

“I’ve always been here,” she repeated, her throat tight. “And I’ll always be here, even when I’m not with you.” Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped away a tear, not wanting to break down in front of him, but she couldn’t help it. “I’ll always cheer you on, Charles. Even when I’m not right by your side.”

Charles turned to her then, his heart breaking at the sight of her trying to hold it together. He had always admired her strength, but right now, he just wanted to take all her pain away, even though he knew he was the one causing it.

“Y/N…” His voice faltered. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I wish things could be different.”

She shook her head, her tears now falling freely. “Don’t apologize, Charles. This isn’t about that. This is about our futures… and the paths we have to take.” She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. “We’re not the same people we were when we started this. We’re growing into different versions of ourselves, and that’s okay. We can’t keep holding on to something that isn’t meant to be.”

Charles stepped closer, his hands shaking as he reached for hers. “I don’t want to let you go. I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s heart cracked open. She looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes that mirrored her own. “You’ll always be my first love, Charles. No one will ever replace you.” She closed her eyes briefly, taking a shaky breath. “But you need to find the right girl. The one who can give you the future you deserve. The one who’ll be there when you need her.”

“No,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I don’t want anyone else. I’ve always wanted you. You’re the one I wanted.”

She smiled through her tears, shaking her head gently. “But you have a future that’s bigger than this. Bigger than us. You have racing, and you’re going to go far. I don’t want to be the one who holds you back. You deserve to be free to chase your dreams without worrying about me.”

Charles stepped back, his heart in his throat, and looked up at the stars. “I’ve always been so focused on my racing,” he murmured. “But you’ve been here, Y/N. And I haven’t appreciated it enough.” He paused, swallowing hard. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Y/N reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, turning him to face her. “You will,” she said softly. “You’re stronger than you think. And you’ll find someone who makes you happy. Someone who can be there for you in ways I can’t.”

The weight of the words hung between them like an anchor, dragging them deeper into the inevitable. The silence was thick with everything they couldn’t say, everything they couldn’t change.

Charles looked at her one last time, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll never forget you, Y/N. You’ll always be in my heart.”

Y/N nodded, her voice catching in her throat. “I’ll never forget you either.” She took a final, shaky breath before adding, “I’ll always love you, Charles. No matter where we go.”

He kissed her then, one last time. It was slow, tender, and filled with all the words they couldn’t say out loud. And in that moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Like they were the only two people left in the universe. But they both knew the truth—they couldn’t stay here forever.

When they pulled apart, both of their eyes were red, their hearts broken but full of love.

Y/N turned away first, walking toward the edge of the roof. She looked back at him one last time.

“You’ll be great, Charles,” she whispered. “And I’ll always be cheering you on, from wherever I am.”

And with that, she disappeared into the night, leaving Charles standing there alone beneath the stars, the weight of their love and their parting settling in his chest.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

taglist : @jenxjar @noam-rosier-icr @prttylight @gluecksbaerchieee

@janeh22 @tobucina @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @weekendlusting

@wisestarfishbouquet @ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins

@vyctorya @mel164  @dazecrea @lol6sposts @raynetargaryan2

@ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins @vyctorya @f1fantasys

[monzabee]

a not so meet cute – cl16

paper rings, prologue(?)

masterlist || series masterlist ||

Summary: The one where Charles meets his neighbour, who quickly captures his attention.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: none other than charles being charles, also might have some cursing, google translate french

Request: “Hii if you’re taking requests could you please write a fic for Charles where he’s your best friend and he asks you to fake date him because he think he likes another girl so he wants to make her notice him/make her jealous kind of thing and you agree even though you love him and during the fake dating he realises that he loves you too and yeah angst fluff and all but a happy ending .If you decide to write this tysm and incase you don’t feel like writing this that’s cool too thanks either way ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! although i am still working on the first chapter of this new series, i wanted to write a little something for you guys to introduce you to the world i had in mind! i know it was not on the wip schedule, but the inspiration struck so i decided to go with it. ever since i saw the wedding pictures of margaret qualley and jack antonoff, the only thing i've been thinking of was the song, and i though it was the perfect song for the characters i had in mind. so, welcome to the new series, inspired by the request above, so thank you for the anon who put the idea in my mind to create this whole series, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

August, 2017

He met Margaret on our rooftop, she was wearing white And he was like, "I might be in trouble"

Charles loves his country, he really does. He’s always been patriotic of some sorts, he supposes. But the one thing he absolutely loathes about Monaco? The heat, no questions asked. The worst part isn’t even the heat itself, per se, it is the fact that his apartment has no elevator and he has to walk up five stories just to make it to his apartment – in the heat. So yeah, even though he is as patriotic of a Monégasque as they come, he definitely wishes he was somewhere else at the moment. When he does make to his floor, however, he’s met with a rather peculiar view, where his new neighbour is yelling at someone on the phone.

“No, I said I wanted the granite counters,” the person specify, fingers clutching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No!” The man straight up yells, “Ceux en granit, connard, pas ceux en graphite. I don’t think they even come in graphite!”

Deciding to remain silent as he makes his way towards his own apartment, Charles ignores the man standing in front of the apartment opposite of his. Though, he realises that the apartment’s door is open and there is construction going on inside, which explains the drilling sounds he’s been hearing early in the morning and the smell of fresh paint that never seems to leave the shared floor.

Side-eyeing the whole ordeal, he manages to make it to his apartment without attracting the attention of the man – or so he thinks. Just as he’s about to unlock his front door, he feels a pat on his shoulder. As he turns towards the man, there is a curious look on his face, “Hi?”

“Hello,” the man greets, “do you know how i can contact the superintendent?”

For reasons unknown (extreme hangover), Charles’ brain decides to blank out, “Quoi?”

“Le commissaire,” the man clarifies, “savez-vous comment je peux les contacter?” And Charles realises he would have been impressed with the man’s accent if he wasn’t so hangover from the night before. The superintendent, do you know how I can contact them?

“Ah,” Charles nods in understanding, “sure, let me give you his number.”

After the man saves the number he gives to his phone, he extends his hand in a friendly greeting. “I owe you one, I’m Declan, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Charles,” he responds with, what he hopes to be, a friendly smile. Motioning the apartment behind them, he asks, “Are you my new neighbour?”

“Oh, no, no,” Declan laughs, and it’s a warm, almost infectious laugh. It reminds Charles of– well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Declan’s voice draws him back to the conversation, “My sister is, I’m renovating it for her.”

Charles nods in understanding, “Ah, I see. I’ve never seen her around, I don’t think.”

“Well that’d be because she’s as annoying as little sisters come,” Declan laughs again, and this time it manages to get a smile out of Charles. “You know what? We’re actually having a small party at my place tonight, why don’t you come?”

“You’ve just met me,” Charles points out, voicing his confusion, “you really want to invite me to your house?”

“Pish posh,” Declan waves him off, already starting to walk back to his sister’s apartment “I’ll send you the details, bring alcohol!”

Charles tries to come up with excuses to give Declan when he’s a no show at the party, but all the excused he come up with sounding either shitty, entitled or just a mess in general. So he convinces himself to get ready after a much needed shower, and remembers to pick up a bottle of tequila on his way to the address Declan texted him earlier that day. Considering the amount of cars parked in front of the apartment complex, Charles thinks whether it’s going to be a ‘small’ party as Declan put earlier, but he manages to find a place to park his car, nonetheless. Surprisingly, it’s not hard to find which apartment belongs to his new ‘friend’, as the people he seems to keep literally bumping into give him directions which lead him to the top floor – he thinks, like brother like sister, huh?

“Ah, bienvenu, Charles!” Declan greets him as he enters the apartment, filled with more people than he honestly expected; but hey, they are in Monte Carlo after all.

Because he was raised by his mother, Charles replies, “Merci de me recevoir,” but because he is Charles, he finds himself reverting easily to French. Of course, he soon realises that his new friend has no trouble understanding him.

“Of course, ma maison est ta maison.” With a wide smile that reaches his eyes, he takes the bottle Charles offer him and pats his shoulder in a friendly manner, “Good lad, let me put this in the kitchen and we’ll find my sister together. I suppose she’s here somewhere.”

Giving him a firm nod, Charles is suddenly left alone to gaze around the living area. He quickly realises that he’s not the only one who is particularly patriotic as he comes face to face with the Union Jack on the wall, proudly displayed on the wall, seems to tell a story of cultural connections and a home away from home. He’s also, somehow, met with a very eccentric group of people, who seem to be insistent on having him join their various conversation – which he does his best to partake in.

As he chats with a group of fellow partygoers, he notices Declan making his way through the crowd toward him. “Charles,” he says with an apologetic smile, “sorry for that, let’s go.”

As they move through the apartment, Charles catches glimpses of the décor, which can only be described as eclectic, but what he realises that Declan made sure to fill up his walls with all kinds of memories; from photographs of what Charles thinks is his family to his diplomas, to even famous artwork – he’s not sure whether the Warhol he just passed by is real or not, but he supposes it’s probably the first option. They arrive at a corner of the rooftop terrace where a cozy seating area is arranged. A few guests are engaged in animated discussions, while others lounge comfortably, enjoying the ambiance. However, it doesn’t take either him or Declan to realise that his sister is, in fact, not with the group.

Though, it doesn’t take the latter to spot his sister, mumbling with a wince under his breath, and when Charles follows Declan's gaze to find her engaged in a rather animated discussion with a man who looks both frustrated and slightly bewildered by her. “Poor guy.”

“Seems like she's keeping him entertained.” Charles offer, careful with his words, and also quite confused at the man’s reactions to whatever Declan’s sister seems to be saying.

“Eh, sisters.” Declan shrugs, and motions Charles to follow him.

As they approach their corner of the terrace, her voice becomes clearer, and Charles can overhear snippets of the conversation. “I just don’t understand why we can’t print more money,” she says in an airy voice.

The man she's speaking to rubs his temples, clearly grappling with how to respond. “Well, it's not that simple. Printing more money can lead to inflation and devalue the currency.” He takes a moment to think, then, “Think of it like shoes–”

“Okay,” Declan laughs nervously as he places himself between the two, turning to the other man with a kind smile, “I think we’re done here, mate, she’s playing you. She’s an econ major, sorry for that.” Though Charles can’t see the expression on her face, he imagines there’s some sort of a victorious smile as she waves the man away, “Stop emasculating my friends, please.”

“Well choose better friends, and I won’t,” she shrugs, following his brother’s movements as he makes his way back near Charles, she turns towards him as the white dress she’s wearing sways gently in the evening breeze. There’s a surprised look on her face when she realises and they are not alone, “Um, hi.”

With a playful grin, Declan points to Charles and turns to his sister, “This is Charles, your new neighbour, and Charles, this is my sister–”

Bambi.

It’s the only word that comes to Charles’ mind when he sees your eyes and a friendly smile you give to him, “Nice to meet you, Charles.”

His eyes fall down to your extended hand, and he scrambles to regain his composure, taking your hand and shaking it gently. “Uh, yes, nice to meet you too.”

With an unexpected clap from your brother, which has both you and Charles jumping slightly, you turn to him with a glare, “Well, now that you know each other, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. And you,” he points to you which elicits a raised eyebrow from you, “don’t scare him off, and for God’s sake change this music.”

“What’s wrong with ABBA?” You ask with a small pout already forming on your lips.

“We need a change,” Charles watches with a silent chuckle as Declan starts walking back towards the kitchen, “ergo, change it!”

“Well that was an interesting exit,” you mumble, eyes following your brother until he’s out of both your and Charles’ views. Afterwards, you turn your attention back to the man standing in front of you, “What do you think about The Smiths?”

“Who?” Charles asks you, confusion written on his face.

“Not The Who,” you nudge him slightly, chuckling softly, though your laughter dies down once you realise he’s really confused. “I– The Smiths, Charles! To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die,” you softly sing, but he replies with a small shake of his head, and a shrug. “Oh, I love The Smiths! Come on, you have a lot to learn.”

As you grab him by his wrist to guide him back inside the apartment, I might be in trouble, he thinks to himself. And then, you turn around to give him a full smile, with a glint of mischief in your eyes that he can't quite interpret, and say, “I can already feel that we are going to be very good friends.”

And then he knows, he’s definitely in trouble.

[obsessedhoneycomb]

Pieces of GR63

A/N: I should be sleeping, I’m starting in my new job tomorrow, but I can’t fall asleep, maybe I’m little nervous, but most likely excited. So here are some blurbs that I wrote back in summer and when I was in London in November. I don’t have a whole stories around them, sometimes it comes to me and all I have to do is to feel it and write it. Enjoy it, besties!

———

Monte Carlo

On Monday your boss fired you with no further comment and you took it with grace. Sitting in your car at the parking lot, you looked at the building with sadness.

On your way home, you called George.

“Hey, honey.” He said with warmth in his voice.

“Hi, G.” Your voice soft, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“You cried, didn’t you?” He said with frown.

“Yes.”

“Just go home, love. Pack some things and get to the airport. I’ll manage everything else.”

“But G-George-“

“Shhh… let me take care of you. We’re partners. You’re not in this alone.”

“Mhm… okay.”

“Just breathe. Everything will be okay.”

And just like that, you were walking through the arrivals at the airport in Monte Carlo.

It wasn’t your first time, but you were always taken aback how lucky you are to be there.

Someone was supposed to wait for you at the arrivals hall. You looked around and there he was. George himself was there.

Immediately you were in his arms, nearly losing it again and crying.

“Welcome home, love.” He whispered to your hair, while you nuzzled your face into his chest.

London boy

The buzz of the city was undying as you watched over it from the rooftop lounge, sipping on your drink. Your mind was calm and swirling in happiness, making you smile.

“You’re beautiful.”

Turning your look at the man sitting across the small table with you, smiling widely, because he was the main cause of your happiness.

“I love this city.” You whispered while sipping your drink.

“And here I thought that you love me.”

You chuckled at his words, placing the glass down the table and reaching for his hand over the it.

“George, you know that you’re the one I love the most.”

“I know. I’m just teasing you, love. I know how much you love London. That’s why I booked this trip for your birthday.”

George smiled, his big blue eyes gleaming with love for you as you were the centre of his universe, his safe haven, his everything.

Birthday

There was a celebration for your birthday. You were chatting with your family, George watching you from the corner of the room with admiration. Your family was genuinely happy for you, because you found what you really wanted - the man, who takes care of you, cherish you.

Standing up from the table with a clink to the glass of champagne, getting everybody’s attention, your speech started.

“I’d like to thank you for this celebration, it means a lot for me. I would never ever imagine, that we will meet here together. There is something I want to announce.”

Your eyes found George, he understood quickly and he moved through the room to stand beside you.

“As you know, we love each other so much and I simply can’t bear the fact and feeling of being far away from George. He’s my soulmate, my partner, my everything. So, I’m moving in with him to his apartment in Monaco.”

Everybody of your family went speechless. They simply didn’t expect this. You weren’t one of those girls, who would move your whole life because of a man.

But surprisingly, your father walked to you first, the glint of tears in his eyes as he hugged you tightly.

“I’m proud of you, baby. Be happy.”

———

Please don’t use my writings without my permission! Pictures found on Pinterest.

[rubywillkins]

The Week of Angst| II

Max Verstappen| Love, In every moment

Pairing max × female reader

The Formula 1 paddock was alive with its usual chaos—reporters swarming for interviews, engineers tweaking final adjustments, and fans craning for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. Among the flurry of activity stood Max Verstappen, the sport’s rising star. He had the world at his feet—chiseled good looks, record-breaking lap times, and a million-dollar smile that left fans weak in the knees.

But none of that mattered when Y/n was around.

Y/n was a freelance photographer, her sharp wit and even sharper lens earning her a reputation as one of the best in the business. She wasn’t like the others who swooned over Max. She teased him, challenged him, made him feel things he didn’t fully understand.

Their first encounter had been accidental. Y/n, too focused on capturing the perfect shot of the pit lane, hadn’t noticed Max approaching. They collided, her camera nearly crashing to the floor if not for his quick reflexes.

“Careful,” he said, steadying her. “You almost lost your shot.”

“Thanks to you,” she snapped, brushing herself off.

Max had smirked. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going next time.”

From that moment on, the tension between them was undeniable.

Their "friendship" grew as the season progressed. They spent countless hours together, whether it was during post-race celebrations or quiet evenings exploring the cities the circuit visited. Yet, they remained in denial, each too afraid to admit the feelings bubbling beneath the surface.

One evening in Monaco, after a long day at the track, they found themselves alone on the rooftop of their hotel. The city glittered below, the cool breeze carrying the scent of the sea.

Y/n shivered slightly, and Max, without hesitation, draped his jacket over her shoulders.

“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” she said, her voice soft but teasing.

“Maybe I want to,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her lips.

For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Their faces inched closer, breaths mingling, until—

“I should go,” y/n said abruptly, stepping back, her cheeks flushed.

“Yeah,” Max said, clearing his throat. “Just friends, right?”

“Just friends,” she echoed, though her heart thundered in her chest.

The façade of friendship grew thinner with each passing day. Every accidental brush of their hands, every lingering glance, every time Max’s arm found its way around her waist—it all felt too real.

Then came the night of the team dinner party. Y/n, dressed in a simple but stunning black dress, sat at the edge of the room with a plate of cake. Max couldn’t take his eyes off her as she took a bite, her tongue flicking out to catch a bit of frosting.

But when he saw a smudge of chocolate on her lips, something inside him snapped.

He crossed the room in a few long strides, kneeling in front of her.

“You’ve got…” He trailed off, brushing his thumb over her lips to wipe away the frosting.

Her breath hitched, her eyes locking with his.

“Max…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t pretend I don’t want you.”

Before she could reply, his lips captured hers. The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, but it quickly deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring into that moment. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if she couldn’t bear to let him go.

When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” he said, his forehead resting against hers.

Tears welled in her eyes. “I love you too.”

They barely made it back to his hotel room before their lips crashed together again. Clothes fell to the floor in a trail leading to the bed.

Max’s hands roamed her body, mapping every curve, every soft inch of skin. His lips followed, leaving a blazing trail from her neck to her collarbone and further down.

Y/n gasped as his touch grew bolder, her body arching into his. She felt like she was on fire, every nerve ending alive under his care. Their movements were slow and deliberate, an exploration of everything they had denied themselves for so long.

“Y/n,” he whispered against her skin, his voice heavy with emotion. “You’re everything.”

She pulled him closer, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was as desperate as it was loving. They lost themselves in each other that night, their passion binding them in a way words never could.

Their relationship became the talk of the paddock, but neither cared. For the first time, Max felt truly alive, and Y/n had never been happier. Together, they were unstoppable, their love shining brighter than any podium finish.

But happiness has a cruel way of slipping through your fingers.

It started with bruises that wouldn’t heal and an exhaustion y/n couldn’t shake. A doctor’s visit confirmed the worst: leukemia.

She kept the diagnosis to herself at first, not wanting to burden Max. But as her symptoms worsened, she made the heartbreaking decision to push him away.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of her loose sweater. She had rehearsed this moment countless times in her head, each scenario more painful than the last.

Max stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve barely said a word all evening,” he said softly, stepping closer. “What’s going on, Y/n?”

She looked up at him, her chest tightening at the sight of his face. His messy hair, his piercing ocean eyes, the way his lips tilted in that worried half-smile—all of it was too much. How was she supposed to walk away from the man she loved more than life itself?

“I think we should end this,” she said abruptly, her voice colder than she intended.

Max froze, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” she continued, avoiding his gaze. “It’s too much. The traveling, the pressure, being part of your world. I’m… I’m tired of it.”

“Y/n, stop.” His voice was firm, his jaw tightening. He stepped closer, kneeling in front of her so they were eye-level. “You don’t mean that. What’s really going on?”

Her heart cracked at the sight of him, so vulnerable and desperate. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see the tears welling in her eyes.

“I don’t love you anymore,” she lied, the words slicing through her like a knife.

Max flinched as though she’d slapped him. For a moment, he just stared at her, searching her face for some sign that this was a joke, a cruel prank.

“That’s not true,” he said finally, his voice trembling. “You don’t just stop loving someone, Y/n. I know you. I know us. You’re lying.”

“Max, please,” she begged, standing and turning away from him. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“No,” he said, his tone sharper now. He grabbed her hand, spinning her back around to face him. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to push me away without an explanation.”

She yanked her hand free, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m trying to protect you!” she shouted, her voice breaking.

“From what?” he demanded, his eyes blazing with frustration. “From you? From us?”

“From this!” she screamed, gesturing to herself. “I’m sick, Max! I have leukemia. I’m dying. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”

The room fell silent, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Max stared at her, his face pale, his chest heaving as he processed what she had just said.

“You… you’re sick?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

She nodded, her legs giving out as she sank back onto the bed. “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought if I pushed you away, it would be easier for you when I’m gone.”

“Easier for me?” Max said, his voice rising in disbelief. He knelt in front of her again, gripping her hands tightly. “Do you think losing you could ever be easy? Do you think I’d ever be okay knowing I let you face this alone?”

She shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, Max. Weak and—”

“You’re not weak,” he interrupted, his voice breaking. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. And I love you, Y/n. I love you so much it hurts. Don’t you get that?”

She sobbed, her hands clutching his as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. “I didn’t want to ruin your life,” she choked out.

“You are my life,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you see? You’re everything to me. And if we only have weeks, months, whatever time we’ve got—I want to spend it with you. Every single second.”

She broke then, collapsing into his arms as her sobs wracked her body. He held her tightly, his own tears streaming down his face as he whispered into her hair.

“We’ll fight this,” he said softly. “Together. I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not now, not ever.”

And for the first time since her diagnosis, Y/n allowed herself to believe she wasn’t alone.

Max became her anchor. He was there for every treatment, every bad day, every moment she wanted to give up. They made the most of their time together—dancing in empty hotel rooms, sharing whispered confessions, and making love as if it might be their last chance.

But as the months passed, y/n grew weaker. They have to move her in hospital.

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the machines monitoring her fragile heartbeat. The curtains were drawn, letting in only a sliver of golden sunlight that stretched across the bed where Y/n lay. She was frail, her once-vibrant presence now reduced to a fragile figure with pale skin and sunken cheeks.

Max sat by her side, his fingers intertwined with hers, though her grip was weak. His thumb stroked her knuckles, desperate to memorize the feeling of her skin, the warmth that was fading with each passing moment.

Her eyelids fluttered, and she turned her head slowly to look at him. Even now, her eyes—those beautiful eyes—still held a faint glimmer of the woman he loved so fiercely.

“Max…” Her voice was barely a whisper, so soft he had to lean closer to hear her.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You’re always here… my stubborn Max.”

“And I always will be,” he replied, his voice cracking just slightly. He pressed a kiss to her hand, lingering as if that small act could keep her with him a little longer.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength before speaking again. “You’ve… given me so much,” she murmured. “More than I ever thought I’d have. I got to love you… and be loved by you. That’s more than enough.”

“Don’t say that,” Max said, shaking his head. His jaw tightened as tears threatened to spill. “It’s not enough, Y/n. I want more time with you. I want everything with you.”

She squeezed his hand weakly, her smile bittersweet. “Time isn’t what matters, Max. It’s how we spent it.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “And I wouldn’t trade a single second of it.”

His breath hitched as he fought against the pain clawing at his chest. “I can’t do this without you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to go on, y/n. You’re my whole world.”

She blinked up at him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You’ll go on because you have to,” she said softly. “Because you’re Max Verstappen. You’re strong, even when you don’t feel it. And because… you’ll carry me with you. Always.”

He bent his head, his shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked his body. She reached up with trembling fingers, brushing them through his hair, as if comforting him gave her strength.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice so faint it was almost lost. “I’ll love you… forever.”

Max lifted his head, his face streaked with tears. “And I’ll love you forever,” he said, his voice hoarse. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’re my everything, Y/n. Always.”

Her breathing grew shallower, her chest rising and falling with effort. She closed her eyes, a peaceful expression settling over her face.

“Don’t… forget me,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.

“Never,” he promised, his voice trembling. “You’ll always be with me. In everything I do.”

A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as her breathing slowed. Her fingers slackened in his, her body finally succumbing to the battle she had fought so bravely.

Max sat there, his forehead still pressed to hers, his tears falling freely as he held her close.

“I’ll never let you go,” he whispered through his sobs.

And in that quiet room, with the world outside oblivious to the devastating loss, Max stayed with her, holding her until her warmth faded, and she became a memory—one he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

The room was eerily quiet when Max woke, his chest heaving and his heart racing as if he’d just run a marathon. His shirt clung to his damp skin, soaked with cold sweat. His eyes darted around, wild and unfocused, his mind desperately trying to separate reality from the vivid nightmare that had just consumed him.

Y/n was gone. The leukemia, the heartbreak, her final breath—all of it played in his head like a cruel, unrelenting movie.

He sat up abruptly, gasping for air. His trembling hands gripped the sheets, the faint echoes of her weak voice in his dream still ringing in his ears. He could still feel the crushing weight of her loss, the pain that had shattered him in that unreal world.

“Max!”

Her voice came from the kitchen. Bright. Alive.

He froze. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then the familiar clatter of a pan hitting the counter jolted him into action.

“Max! Wake up! The pancakes are ready!”

He threw the covers off and stumbled out of bed, his legs weak beneath him. His breath hitched as he rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw her—Y/n.

She stood by the stove in one of his oversized t-shirts, her hair slightly messy, a spatula in hand as she flipped a pancake with practiced ease. The smell of butter and syrup filled the air, but all Max could focus on was her.

Alive. Healthy. Smiling.

“Finally!” she said, turning to look at him with a playful roll of her eyes. “You sleep like the dead. I was about to—”

Before she could finish, Max crossed the room in two long strides, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent, his arms tightening around her as if she might vanish if he let go.

Y/n froze for a moment, startled by the sudden embrace. “Max? What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat was too big, and tears were already streaming down his cheeks.

“Hey…” she said softly, setting the spatula down. She turned in his arms, her brows knitting together in concern as she cupped his face. “Max, you’re crying. What’s going on? Did something happen?”

He shook his head, his hands trembling as they held onto her. “It’s nothing,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Just… a nightmare.”

Her eyes softened, and she gently wiped a tear from his cheek. “It must’ve been a bad one,” she said, her tone tender. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Max shook his head again, swallowing hard. “No. I… I just needed to hold you.”

Her expression melted into one of pure love as she pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I’m right here,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Those words—so simple, yet so powerful—undid him completely. He held her tighter, his body trembling with silent sobs.

For a while, they stood like that, the pancakes forgotten as y/n ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him without knowing the full extent of the nightmare he’d endured.

Eventually, Max pulled back, his eyes red and puffy but filled with gratitude. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

“I love you,” he said, his voice raw but full of conviction.

“I love you too,” she replied, smiling softly.

He leaned down and kissed her—slow, lingering, and filled with all the love and relief he felt.

In that moment, Max made a silent vow to himself: he would cherish every single second with her, no matter what life threw their way.

The pancakes could wait. For now, all that mattered was that she was here, in his arms, alive and well. And he wasn’t letting go.