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datavalleyai · 1 year ago

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5 Reasons to Become a Full Stack Developer

Many engineers and professionals nowadays master full-stack development skills to help them advance in their careers. While top companies like Google, Amazon, and Microsoft continue to hire experienced full-stack developers, many people believe the career is unstable and risky. Is it worthwhile to pursue a profession in full-stack Java development? Yes, indeed! By learning the necessary skills and gaining hands-on experience to become a competent full-stack Java developer, you could gain tremendous benefits. Before pursuing a career in full-stack programming, it is critical to clear your uncertainties.

This blog post will lead you through the benefits of learning full-stack Java development and establishing a career in the field.

1. Working on Cutting-Edge Technologies

Full stack developers often find themselves at the forefront of technological innovation. They get to experiment with the latest frameworks, libraries, and programming languages in both front-end and back-end development. This constant exposure to cutting-edge tech keeps their skills sharp and their work engaging. Whether it’s creating responsive user interfaces or optimizing server performance, full stack developers are hands-on with the most current tools and techniques.

2. Global Opportunities

The global demand for your skills is one of the benefits of being a full stack developer. With the rise of remote work and an increased reliance on web-based solutions, your abilities can be utilized anywhere in the world. This means you’ll be able to work for organizations in other countries, contributing to a variety of initiatives and widening your perspectives. The global nature of full stack development provides an exceptional opportunity to interact with people from all cultures and backgrounds.

Remote employment is typically appealing to full stack engineers. Working remotely is especially appealing to those who want location independence or have personal responsibilities that necessitate a flexible schedule.

3. Competitive Salaries

The demand for full stack developers is on the rise, and with the demand comes competitive salaries. Because of their extensive skill set and ability to work on both the front-end and back-end of web applications, full stack developers are among the highest paid in the tech sector. If you want a financially rewarding profession, becoming a full stack developer is a great decision.

Companies value full stack developers for their ability to streamline development processes and bridge the gap between different teams. This high demand for full stack skills translates to higher salaries and numerous job opportunities. Full stack developers often find themselves in a favorable bargaining position when negotiating compensation packages.

4. Career Growth Options

Choosing a profession as a full stack developer opens up prospects for enormous advancement. According to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, the number of full stack development jobs will increase dramatically in the next few years. This means that talented full stack developers will have plenty of options to find work and progress their careers. A full stack developer career offers a wide range of prospects, as full stack developers are top-tier engineers with exceptional abilities to engage with many development components at any step of the process.

Companies are also choosing for one multi-developer rather than multiple developers on the same project these days. It not only saves money but also slows down the development process. This is considerably increasing the need for full stack developers around the world.

5. Cross-Functional Expertise

Full stack developers are like the bridge builders of the tech world. They seamlessly integrate the front-end and back-end components, ensuring that the entire system runs smoothly. Because of their cross-functional experience, they can understand the full picture and develop well-integrated apps. It’s like having a symphony conductor who knows the intricacies of every instrument. Full stack developers can create more efficient, unified, and strong solutions by understanding all sides of the development process. It also fosters better collaboration with different teams, including designers, testers, and product managers.

By mastering both front-end and back-end development, you become a valuable asset in any development team. You can bridge the gap between designers and developers, ensuring that the user interface aligns with the underlying functionality. This cross-functional knowledge allows you to create seamless and efficient web applications.

Conclusion:

The journey of becoming a full stack developer may require dedication, continuous learning, and hands-on experience. However, the rewards are substantial. With opportunities to work on cutting-edge technologies, expand your career globally, earn competitive salaries, explore diverse career paths, enjoy remote work options, and leverage cross-functional expertise, the path of a full stack developer is undoubtedly an enticing one.

So, if you’re passionate about technology and love solving complex problems, full stack development might just be the ideal career for you. As the tech industry continues to evolve, full stack developers will remain invaluable contributors to its growth and innovation. Dive into the world of full stack development, accept its challenges, and start a rewarding journey that will lead to a dynamic and satisfying career.

To kickstart your journey as a Java Full Stack Developer, we suggest you explore the free bootcamp at Datavalley. Our programs provide the training and expertise you need to thrive in this versatile and dynamic field. Join us at Datavalley, and let’s shape the future of technology together!

Key points about Bootcamps:

It is completely free, and there is no obligation to complete the entire course.

20 hours total, two hours daily for two weeks.

Gain hands-on experience with tools and projects.

Explore and decide if the field or career is right for you.

Complete a mini-project.

Earn a certificate to show on your profile.

No commitment is required after bootcamp.

Take another bootcamp if you are unsure about your track.

FAQs

1. What is full stack development?

Full stack development refers to the practice of working on both the front-end and back-end of web applications. It involves creating the user interface, implementing functionality, and managing databases and servers.

2. Why should I become a full stack developer?

Full stack developers are in high demand, offering a wide range of career opportunities, competitive salaries, and the chance to work on cutting-edge technologies. Their cross-functional expertise is a valuable asset in the tech industry.

3. Do I need to know multiple programming languages to be a full stack developer?

Yes, full stack developers typically work with various programming languages for front-end and back-end development, depending on the project’s requirements. Common languages include JavaScript, Python, Ruby, and Java.

4. What technologies should I learn to become a full stack developer?

You should focus on technologies like HTML, CSS, JavaScript, front-end frameworks (e.g., React or Angular), back-end frameworks (e.g., Node.js or Django), and databases (e.g., MySQL or MongoDB). Familiarity with version control systems and deployment tools is also crucial.

5. Are full stack developers in demand globally?

Yes, full stack developers are sought after worldwide. As technology continues to advance, the demand for professionals who can work on both the front-end and back-end of applications remains consistently high.

6. Can I work as a remote full stack developer?

Absolutely! Many companies offer remote work options for full stack developers. This flexibility allows you to work from anywhere and collaborate with international teams.

7. What is the career growth potential for full stack developers?

Full stack developers can advance their careers in various directions, such as becoming specialized front-end or back-end developers, technical leads, or even transitioning into roles like DevOps engineers or software architects.

8. What should I look for in a full stack development bootcamp?

A good bootcamp should offer a comprehensive curriculum, experienced instructors, hands-on projects, and real-world experience. Look for programs that align with your career goals and provide the opportunity to work on diverse projects.

9. How long does it take to become a proficient full stack developer?

The duration can vary depending on your background and the intensity of your learning. Datavalley offers programs ranging from four to six months, providing the necessary skills to launch your career.

10. Is a full stack developer’s role suitable for beginners with no prior experience in programming?

Full stack development can be challenging for beginners, but it’s possible to learn with dedication and practice. Our bootcamps are designed to accommodate individuals with no prior experience, making it accessible to newcomers in the field.

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rudixinnovate · 10 months ago

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pucksandpower · 5 months ago

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Wagification

Max Verstappen x analyst!Reader

Summary: your job was slowly crushing your soul and stealing your sanity … until Max showed you the pleasure to be found in letting yourself be cherished and cared for (or in which a chronically overworked Sky Sports analyst becomes a WAG)

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, the Monaco sunshine bright and warm on your face. Max comes around and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You ready for this?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, though your stomach is fluttering with nerves. It’s been nearly a year since you were last at a Grand Prix, and so much has changed. You glance down at the massive diamond on your left hand, still not quite used to seeing it there.

Max kisses your temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

Hand-in-hand, you make your way into the paddock. Immediately you’re assaulted by the familiar sights and sounds — mechanics yelling, engines revving, reporters gesturing to their cameras. It’s like you never left.

You keep your sunglasses on and your head down, hoping to avoid notice. The last thing you want is to be bombarded by your old coworkers. As a data analyst for Sky Sports F1, you knew everyone in the paddock. But you walked away from it all for Max and you aren’t sure what kind of reception awaits you now.

“Max! Max Verstappen!” You hear a female voice call out. You suppress a groan as you recognize it as belonging to Emma, one of the network’s top reporters. She hurries over, dictaphone in hand. “Max, can I get a quick interview for the pre-race show?”

“Sure,” Max says easily. He keeps holding your hand, drawing you forward. “Just make it quick, yeah?”

Emma nods, then seems to notice you for the first time. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m Emma Walsh, with Sky Sports.” She sticks her hand out with a friendly smile.

You hesitate a second before shaking her hand. “Y/N,” you say simply, not offering your last name.

Emma’s eyes widen behind her glasses and she leans in for a closer look. “Wait a minute, I know you ...” Her jaw drops open. “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

You give a little shrug. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” Emma practically shouts. “I can’t believe it! We all thought you fell off the face of the earth after you left Sky. What happened to you?”

Max slides an arm around your waist. “She fell for me,” he says with a grin.

Emma’s eyes bug out even more as she takes in your designer dress, heels, and rock on your finger. “You mean … you and Max ...”

You nod, feeling yourself blush. “About a year ago, yeah.”

“Wow.” Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “Just … wow. I mean, look at you! You look incredible!”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. Your style has certainly changed since your Sky Sports days of sensible pantsuits. As an analyst, you had lived in jeans, flats, and minimal makeup, your hair always pulled back in a simple ponytail. Now your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders, and you’re wearing a floaty floral maxi dress and strappy heels. You went from broadcasting racing stats to being a WAG almost overnight.

“Thanks,” you say, your cheeks growing even warmer. “It’s really good to see you, Emma.”

“You too!” She grins. “I have so many questions, but I better let you go for now. Don’t want to keep the championship leader waiting.” She winks at Max. “We’ll catch up later, yeah? Drinks tonight to celebrate your return?”

“Sure, sounds good.” You smile, thankful she’s not pressing for more details now. Emma waves and heads off in search of her next interview.

Max keeps his arm around you as you continue through the paddock. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” he murmurs.

You let out a shaky laugh. “One down, about a hundred more to go.”

Over the next hour you run into what feels like every person you used to work with. They all react with similar shock at the former paddock nerd turned glamorous girlfriend of the reigning four-time World Champion.

You chat briefly with Will, who stutters over his words and goes bright red when you say hello. He had the biggest crush on you back when you worked together. Sarah can’t stop gushing over your ring. Tom tells you how weird it is not to see you hunched over a laptop crunching numbers.

The encounters leave you feeling drained, but also relieved. Your old coworkers seem genuinely happy for you, not resentful like you had worried. They don’t pry too much into how exactly you went from reporting race stats to ending up with Max Verstappen. That’s a story for another time.

Eventually you make it to the Red Bull garage, where you let out a long breath. “Phew, I survived.”

Max grins and pulls you close. “You were amazing. And you look beautiful, as always.” He nuzzles your neck.

You smile and loop your arms around his shoulders. “Have I mentioned how happy I am whenever I’m with you?”

“Mmm, maybe once or twice.” Max kisses you softly. “But feel free to keep reminding me.”

“Ahem.” Christian Horner clears his throat from behind you. “If you two can pause the PDA for a moment, we have a race to focus on.”

You spring apart, blushing furiously at being caught by Max’s team principal. Max just laughs and slings an arm around your shoulders.

“Lighten up, Christian. I’m allowed to kiss my fiancée.”

Christian shakes his head, but he’s fighting a smile. “Indeed you are. But perhaps when there aren’t cameras around?” He nods over your shoulder.

You turn to see several photographers zooming in, no doubt dying to get shots of the paddock’s newest it couple. You bury your face in Max’s shoulder.

“Ugh, no privacy anywhere,” you grumble.

Max kisses your hair. “It’s not so bad. Just part of the deal when you’re with me, remember?”

You smile up at him. “Very true. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The day passes in a blur of activity. Max has various sponsor obligations and media commitments. You stick close by his side, learning how to avoid the cameras and deflect the constant questions about your relationship. Being the center of attention still feels strange, but you’re getting better at handling it.

During Max’s autograph session, you chat with some of the other drivers’ girlfriends and wives. They give you tips on dealing with the madness. You’re touched by how kind and welcoming they are.

“It takes some getting used to,” Alex Albon’s girlfriend, Lily, says. “But once you figure out how to focus on what really matters, the rest just becomes background noise.”

You nod. Your priority is Max. Everything else is just part of the ride.

***

One Year Ago

You sink down onto a stack of tires behind the Red Bull motorhome, finally letting the tears fall. This weekend in Barcelona has been a nightmare so far. Your team at Sky Sports is chronically understaffed, so you’ve been working 18 hour days analyzing data and prepping stats graphics.

You’re exhausted, frustrated, and seriously questioning your career choices.

On top of that, you just found out that your coworker and boyfriend Jamie has been cheating on you for months with one of the new junior reporters. You feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

You just need a few minutes to yourself to cry it out before plastering a smile back on and soldiering through the rest of the weekend. You hear footsteps approaching and quickly dab at your eyes with your sleeve, but it’s too late.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ...” The voice trails off awkwardly.

You glance up to see none other than Max Verstappen standing there, a look of concern on his face. Great. The last thing you need is Formula 1’s wunderkind catching you bawling behind the motorhome.

You scramble to your feet, trying to compose yourself. “Um, hi. No worries, I was just ...” You trail off, at a loss for how to explain.

Max steps closer, head tilted. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His kindness makes the tears threaten again. You stare down at your scuffed sneakers, embarrassed.

“I’m fine, really. Just had a bad day. You know how it goes.” You force a weak laugh.

Max doesn’t seem convinced. “Here, come sit for a minute,” he says gently, guiding you back over to the stack of tires.

To your surprise, he sits down next to you in his designer jeans and Red Bull Racing hoodie like it’s no big deal. You would laugh if you weren’t still fighting more tears.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He smiles and holds out his hand.

You shake it weakly. “Yeah, I know. I mean, uh, I’m Y/N.” You blush. Smooth.

Max either doesn’t notice or is too polite to comment. “So Y/N, what has you so upset? Boyfriend troubles?” He raises an eyebrow knowingly.

You let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. The idiot’s been cheating on me it turns out.” Saying it out loud makes the hurt swell back up.

Max shakes his head angrily. “What a dick. I don’t understand guys who treat girls like that. You deserve so much better, Y/N.”

The genuine outrage on your behalf makes you smile a bit through the tears. “Thanks, Max. I appreciate that.”

He nods. “Any guy would be lucky to have a girl as pretty and smart as you. This loser doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Now you really can’t help blushing. You’re used to being called a lot of things — nerdy, awkward, obsessive about stats — but no one’s ever called you pretty before. Especially not a kind, cute, and famous race car driver.

You dip your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear self-consciously. “You’re very sweet to say that.”

Max bumps your shoulder with his. “Just calling it like I see it.”

You chat for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. Max is easy to talk to, and makes you laugh with funny stories about mishaps in the garage. By the time you hear your boss calling your name, you’ve almost forgotten about Jamie and your tear-stained face.

“Shit, I have to get back to work,” you say, standing quickly and grabbing your laptop bag. “Thanks for listening, Max. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

“Of course.” Max stands too, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seems reluctant to end the conversation. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you around again this weekend?”

You give him a curious look, wondering why he’d want to see you again after witnessing that mess of emotions. But he looks sincere. “Yeah, maybe! I’m around if you need any stats analysis or data work.” You tap your temple. “Numbers nerd, at your service.”

Max grins. “Good to know. Take care, Y/N.” With a little wave, he heads off, leaving you staring after him in surprise.

The rest of the day you keep replaying those moments with Max in your head, unable to focus. Why did he seem so interested in a frumpy data analyst having a meltdown? You can’t make sense of it.

By the time qualifying ends on Saturday, you’re practically dead on your feet. Your eyelids keep drooping as you pack up your equipment. Maybe you’ll just sleep under your desk tonight instead of walking all the way to the hotel.

“Long day, huh?”

You jerk awake to see Max leaning in the doorway of your makeshift office, thumbs hooked in his pockets. He looks annoyingly energetic and put together compared to your disheveled state.

“Uh, yeah.” You smooth your hair back,feeling self-conscious. Why does he have to catch you looking like such a mess yet again? “Just have about a million graphics to finish before tomorrow’s broadcast. The glamorous life of a data analyst,” you say wryly.

Max frowns. “They keep you here this late doing all the work yourself?”

You sigh, rubbing your grainy eyes beneath your glasses. “Unfortunately yes. We’re way understaffed, but it’s not like they’ll give us more budget to hire help.”

Max shakes his head. “That’s unacceptable. You deserve so much better than this.”

The kindness in his voice makes you suddenly emotional again. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to tear up at work twice in one day.

“Thanks, Max. I’ll be okay though, once I get some sleep ...” You know you don’t sound convincing.

Max appears to think for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You know what, enough of this. Come on.”

Before you can react, he takes your hand and gently tugs you to your feet.

“W-what? Where are we going?” You stammer, heartbeat quickening.

“We’re getting out of here. You’re clearly exhausted and need a break.” Max keeps hold of your hand as he leads you from the office.

“But-but my work … I have to finish-” Even as you protest, you let him continue pulling you along. A rebellious part of you is thrilled at this sudden adventure.

“It can wait. Right now, we’re getting some food and drinks in you so you actually have energy left for tomorrow.” Max winks at you as you exit the paddock into the cool night air. “Trust me.”

And despite barely knowing this man, you realize you do trust him. Max guides you around the corner to a lively tapas bar, chatting all the while about random topics to make you laugh. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you.

Over shared plates of patatas bravas and fizzy cocktails, you find yourself opening up to Max in a way you never do with people you just met. But his kindness and openness make you feel comfortable. He tells you more about life as an F1 driver, the pressures and perks.

“It must be amazing getting to travel all over the world racing cars,” you muse after your second cocktail. “Like a dream.”

“Part of it is, yeah.” Max smiles wryly. “But it can also be lonely. Never really putting down roots anywhere. Hard to meet people outside the racing bubble, you know?”

You nod thoughtfully. Under the playboy racer exterior, it seems there’s a down-to-earth guy who just wants connection. On impulse, you cover his hand with yours and give it a squeeze.

“Well, you’ve got a friend here now if you ever need company at a race.”

Max turns his palm over to link his fingers through yours. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His smile is so warm and genuine, you feel your cheeks heat.

By the time you stumble back to your hotel, you’re laughing and chatting with Max like old friends. When you get to your door though, you blink blearily and sway on your feet — the long day and alcohol hitting you hard.

Max steadies you with a hand on your waist. “Whoa there. You gonna make it okay?”

You wave a hand drunkenly. “Oh yeah, totally fiiiine ...” Your balance wavers again. Okay, maybe not so fine.

Max bites his lip, seeming to have an internal debate. “Alright, slight change of plans. You’re in no state to be left alone right now.”

In one smooth motion he scoops you up bridal-style. You make a very dignified squeaking noise and clutch his shoulders.

“Max! What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re safe for the night.” He grins down at you. “You can stay in my suite where I can keep an eye on you.”

“But … people will think ...” Even tipsy, you know spending the night in Max Verstappen’s hotel room is probably a bad idea.

“Let them think whatever. I’m being a gentleman, I promise.” The sincerity in his eyes melts your feeble protests. You really are in no state to be left alone.

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “Okay fine, you win. But just for tonight!”

Max chuckles, carrying you towards the elevator. “Deal. We’ll get you sobered up and rested for tomorrow.”

You have vague impressions of a plush suite, being tucked into cool satin sheets and handed water and pills for your headache. Max brushes hair off your face with a lingering touch. “Get some sleep, Y/N. I’m right next door if you need me.”

His kindness brings tears to your eyes again, but happy ones this time. As you drift off surrounded by his scent, you think dazedly that maybe this race weekend hasn’t been so terrible after all.

In the morning, waking up in Max Verstappen’s hotel bed, you at first think it was all some crazy dream. Then the smell of brewing coffee draws you out to the living room, where Max stands in the kitchenette.

“Morning! I ordered us some breakfast.” He hands you a mug, smiling softly.

Daylight streaming through the windows makes last night’s events seem even more surreal. You feel suddenly shy as memories return. A part of you wishes you could stay here in this peaceful bubble with him forever, away from the outside world.

But reality calls, as you both have jobs to return to. Max convinces you to eat some food and take more pain meds before he walks you back to your own room to shower and change.

At your door he pulls you into a gentle hug. “Take care of yourself today, okay Y/N? And if you need another break or company again, you know where to find me.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead that sends tingles through your entire body.

Somehow you make it through the day fueled by Max’s kindness and the smallest hope this could lead to more. You catch sight of him striding through the paddock, fans clamoring for his attention. His eyes always seem to find you though, lighting up with that warm smile.

After the race, you’re back in your makeshift office trying not to fall asleep at your desk before the last minutes of broadcasts. When you walk outside into the golden hour sunset though, Max is waiting for you.

“So, ready for round two at the tapas place to celebrate my win?” He bumps your shoulder playfully.

You grin up at him, this beautiful boy who inexplicably wants to spend all his free moments with you. “Definitely. Bring on the croquetas.”

Laughing together, you start making your way there. And though you don’t know what this budding connection will lead to, you’re ready to find out.

***

Nine Months Ago

You snuggle deeper into Max’s arms with a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest. The lights are dim and music plays softly in the background of his hotel suite. Rain patters against the windows, making it the perfect night to get cozy indoors.

Being wrapped up with Max like this, away from the chaos of the race weekend, has become your favorite place to be over the past few months. After that impulsive first night in Barcelona when he took care of you, you started spending more and more time together.

What began as a supportive friendship soon turned into dates, kisses, and eventually becoming official boyfriend and girlfriend. You still can’t believe that Max Verstappen, Formula 1 superstar, wants to be with a plain data analyst like yourself. But from the way he looks at you — like you’re the most captivating person in the world — you don’t doubt his sincerity.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” Max murmurs, trailing his fingers slowly up and down your arm.

You smile and nuzzle his neck. “Mmm, I think you mentioned it once or twice.”

His hands drift up to stroke your hair and you practically purr, eyes drifting shut. Max kisses the top of your head. “I mean it though, Y/N. Being with you makes me so happy.”

You lift your head to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “You make me happy too, Max. I-” You cut off with an enormous yawn that you fail to stifle in time.

Max chuckles. “Am I boring you over here?”

“No no,” you insist around another yawn. “I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open tonight.”

It’s true. As blissful as you feel cuddled up with Max, you’re utterly exhausted. This weekend has been nonstop work with little sleep. By the time you wrapped the Sky broadcasts up for the night, you could barely see straight.

Max brushes a strand of hair back from your face, his expression growing serious. “You’re completely worn out, schatje. I hate seeing you push yourself to the breaking point like this.”

You give him a tired smile. “It’s okay, really. I’m used to the long hours by now. Occupational hazard.” It comes out less convincingly than you intended.

Max’s frown deepens. He shifts around to face you, cradling your cheek in his palm. “But you shouldn’t have to be used to it, Y/N. Your bosses take advantage of your dedication. It’s not right.”

You bite your lip, not meeting his earnest gaze. Deep down you know he’s correct, but you don’t know what else to do. This career has been your life for years now.

Max gently turns your face back to his. “You deserve so much better. You keep giving everything to this job and they just keep demanding more. When’s the last time you took a real break?”

You look down, feeling the prickle of tears. You can’t even remember your last vacation or rest day. “It’s okay, really ...” you whisper half-heartedly.

“No, it’s not.” Max’s voice is firm but caring. He tips your chin up to meet his eyes. “I can’t stand seeing you being taken advantage of. It makes me want to take care of you properly, the way you should be.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his gaze. Being taken care of and cherished so deeply is new for you. You don’t know how to respond.

Max seems to take your silence as uncertainty. “Just think about it, liefje. You could finally put yourself first and do what makes you happy instead of what makes Sky Sports happy.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Doesn’t a break to rest and recover sound nice?”

You close your eyes with a shaky exhale, admitting to yourself just how badly you need it. Your health and mental wellbeing have been steadily declining under the relentless stress.

“It really does sound nice,” you whisper. A few tears leak out beneath your lashes.

Max kisses them away tenderly, holding you close. “Shh I know, baby. You’re burning yourself out trying to do the impossible. Anyone would be exhausted.”

You cling to him, sniffling. “But it’s my job, my career. I can’t just walk away ...” Even as you say it, the prospect doesn’t seem as scary as it once did. Not if you get to have this, being wrapped in Max’s love and care.

“You can walk away from anything that’s making you suffer. You’re so much more than this job. And you’ll never have to worry or want for anything ever again.” His tone drips with promise.

You lean back to search his face. “What do you mean?”

Max smiles and brushes his nose against yours. “I mean, I’ll take care of you. If you leave your job to focus on yourself and our relationship, you will want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your eyes go wide. “You mean … quit working altogether and just … be with you full time?”

Max nods, still smiling. “It can be that simple if you want. No more crazy hours and stress. Just let me spoil you and give you the life you deserve. What do you say?”

Your pulse races as you imagine it. No more coming home at 2 am and collapsing, living off vending machine snacks. Instead you could be leisurely mornings with Max, seeing the world together, doing activities you actually enjoy instead of endless stats analysis ...

It sounds idyllic. But could you really just stop working and let Max support you? Would people judge you for it?

As if reading your mind, Max says “Ignore whatever anyone else might think. This is about what’s right for you and makes you happy. I’m sure of this, Y/N. Please trust me.”

His eyes radiate so much love and certainty. Slowly you nod, feeling a weight lift from your chest.

“Okay,” you whisper. “If you’re sure then … I trust you, Max.”

Joy spreads across his face. He kisses you deeply, pouring all his feelings into it. When he finally pulls back you’re both breathless.

“You won’t regret this, schatje. I’m going to take such good care of you from now on.” Max strokes your hair, eyes shining. “No more exhaustion and stress. Just being together and enjoying life. It will be amazing.”

You truly believe it as you drift off, safe in his arms. No more pressure to single-handedly carry Sky Sports’ data analysis. From now on, you can just be his … and find yourself again.

The next day you take a deep breath and knock on your boss’ door. Within minutes, you’ve quit your job and ended a years long chapter. It feels bittersweet but right as you box up your belongings from your little makeshift office. This time when tears prick your eyes, they’re from overwhelming relief.

Max is waiting to pick you up, greeting you with a spinning hug and long kiss. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so much happier and healthier from now on, I just know it.”

You hug him tight, burying your face in his neck. “I already feel lighter. This was the right choice.”

And it truly is. As you jet off to a tropical island just the two of you that weekend, it feels like a new life.

The days pass in a dreamy haze — sleeping in, long massages, breakfast in bed courtesy of Max, sunset walks on the beach holding hands. He delights in pampering you with gifts, gourmet meals, and your every whim met often before you even speak it.

“I could get used to this,” you sigh contentedly as you lounge together in a cabana, sipping fruity cocktails.

Max smiles and nuzzles your neck. “That’s the idea. You’ll never lift a finger except when you want to from now on.”

It amazes you how he transforms from fierce competitor on the track to this caring, protective boyfriend behind closed doors. He seems to find his greatest happiness in making sure you’re thoroughly spoiled.

You do occasionally think of the drastic shift your life has taken. But any flicker of doubt is erased by Max’s love and devotion. He’s given you freedom from exhaustion and anxiety. You’ve never felt more adored.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper one night as you sway together on the balcony under the stars, your silk robe fluttering around you.

Max gazes at you like you hold the secrets of the universe. “You just had to be yourself, schatje. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

He takes your breath away with slow, passionate kisses until you meltingly agree to take things inside. Your first time together is everything you imagined and more.

Afterwards, lying entwined with Max stroking your hair, you have never felt more whole. You found in each other what you needed most — care, understanding, and unwavering love.

This blissful new life together has only just begun.

***

A Few Hours Ago

You hum to yourself as you flip through the designer outfits in your massive walk-in closet, selecting options for the upcoming race. This will be your first time attending a Grand Prix on Max’s arm and you want to look perfect.

As you sift through rows of Chanel, Dior, Valentino, and Prada, you feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist.

“Need any help choosing?” Max asks, nuzzling your neck.

You lean back into him with a smile. “I was just trying to narrow it down. I want to look nice for your big weekend.”

Max turns you in his arms, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “Schatje, you could show up in sweatpants and you’d still be the most beautiful woman there.”

You scrunch your nose. “But it’s Monaco! I need to look at least semi put-together.”

“It’s impossible for you to look anything but,” Max declares, stealing a quick kiss. “You always look perfect to me.”

You swat his chest but can’t help grinning. His constant compliments and admiration still give you flutters even after months together.

Taking your hand, Max comes to stand before the endless clothing options. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

You pull out two of your favorites: a sleek black Balmain jumpsuit with a deep neckline and waist cutouts, and a shimmering floral Givenchy maxi dress.

“Ooh, these are both amazing,” Max says, fingering the luxe fabrics. “That jumpsuit would show off your sexy legs, but this fabric is so pretty with your skin tone ...”

You chew your bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m torn too. What’s your vote?”

Max pretends to scrutinize them closely before breaking into a smile. “Well you know I love you in anything. Or nothing,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes and swat him with a hanger. “Behave! I need actual fashion advice please.”

“Okay okay.” Max puts on an exaggerated serious expression. “The Givenchy dress is very classy and princess-like. But I love the way this Balmain hugs your curves.” To demonstrate, he traces a hand along the waist and down your side.

You shiver pleasantly at his touch. “Mmm, good point ...”

Max leans in close behind you, hands resting on your hips. “Imagine me peeling it off of you after my win.” He presses a kiss below your ear.

You melt back into him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “Well when you put it that way ...”

“The dress would be pretty easy access too though.” Max slides his hands under the fabric across your thighs teasingly.

You gasp and swat him away again, laughing. “Okay stop distracting me! I really do need to pick.”

Max relents with a grin, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, you win. I officially vote for the dress. It’s sexy yet elegant, just like you.”

You smile and give him a peck on the lips. “Now, what about bags and shoes?”

You move through your endless options as Max offers his input. He has a surprising eye for fashion despite his own relaxed, sporty style.

“This one matches the best.” He selects a sleek black crocodile Birkin. “Classy and understated.”

You turn the bag over in your hands. “Ooh I forgot I had this one. Good call!”

After picking strappy heels to complete the look, you start browsing your jewelry selection.

“That’s a lot of shiny stuff,” Max remarks, eyes roving over the boxes of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and more.

You arch an eyebrow. “Says the one who got carried away with the jewelry purchases ...”

Max just grins and pulls you close. “I want you to have it all. You deserve to be spoiled.” He captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You hum happily against his mouth before pulling back. “Will you help me pick something?”

“Hmm let’s see ...” Max peruses the options before selecting an elegant diamond necklace. “Yeah, this one is perfect. Really complements the dress.”

He fastens it carefully around your neck, meeting your eyes in the mirror with a smile. His gaze trails down your body as you model the full outfit together.

“You look absolutely incredible, liefje. Every man in Monaco will be drooling over you.”

You turn to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Well I only care about impressing one man.” You kiss the tip of his nose.

Max’s hands find your waist again, warm on your exposed skin. “Oh trust me, I am very impressed. And the second we’re alone after the race this outfit will be on the floor.”

You laugh as he nuzzles into your neck, nipping lightly. Somehow, you manage to fall more in love with Max every day.

You eventually disentangle, needing to actually get ready for the day ahead.

“What should I wear in the meantime?” You muse, fingers drifting over the designer options.

Before you can choose, Max comes up behind you and starts guiding a silk robe onto your shoulders.

“How about nothing at all? I’m enjoying this view already,” he murmurs against your skin as he wraps the sash loosely around your waist.

You lean back into him with a hum of pleasure. “Well if you insist ...”

Max takes your hand and leads you to the bed, laying you back against the pillows. He undoes the robe just enough to expose your body as he trails kisses everywhere. “Mmm yes, this is much better than any outfit.”

You run your fingers through his hair, arching into his touch. “What happened to getting ready for the race?” You breathe.

Max pauses his kisses just below your navel to flash a wicked grin up at you. “Race day can wait for a few more minutes. Right now I want to appreciate my gorgeous girl.”

You have zero arguments with that logic. With a happy sigh, you surrender to his skilled and eager mouth, letting all other concerns fade away. Everything else will have its turn — being worshiped by Max is the only thing on your schedule this morning.

Eventually though, you manage to dress and make your way to the circuit. As you ride through the streets together on the way, Max keeps an arm curled tightly around you.

“You know, despite the fancy clothes and jewelry, you’re still the same humble, kind-hearted woman I fell for,” Max says, kissing your temple. “All that other stuff just enhances your inner beauty.”

You smile and squeeze his hand as you lift your lips to meet his. “You always know just what to say.”

You keep your chin up and shoulders back as you step onto the harborside track that will soon be swarming with VIPs. With Max by your side, you have everything you need — now and always.

***

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

The cheers of the crowd echo in your ears as you watch Max pass the chequered flag, securing his win. Your heart swells with pride and love as he pulls the car over to parc fermé and hops out, immediately searching for you on the other side of the barriers.

The second his eyes land on yours, his face lights up with that smile that melts you every time. He’s barely stepped out of the car before you launch yourself into his arms.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you,” you breathlessly exclaim.

Max laughs and pulls you closer. “I’m just happy to win it for you, liefje.”

Still holding you against his chest, he claims your mouth in a fierce celebratory kiss as the team and cameras swarm around. Your world narrows to just the feeling of his lips on yours, his race suit damp with sweat under your palms.

When you finally break for air, foreheads touching, Max murmurs “I love you so much. This one was for you.”

Your answering smile feels brighter than the Monaco sunshine. “I love you too. You were incredible today.”

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a euphoric blur. Max keeps you tucked close to his side whenever he can, his arm firmly around your waist. He only has eyes for you despite the chaos surrounding him.

Finally escaping to the privacy of his driver’s room in the Red Bull motorhome, Max properly ravages you up against the door. The heady mix of victory and desire is intoxicating.

Much later, surrounded by empty champagne bottles with Max nuzzling lazy kisses across your bare shoulders, you hear a tentative knock.

“Decent?” Comes Emma’s teasing voice.

“Just a minute!” You call out, scrambling for your discarded dress.

Max pouts adorably as you wriggle back into it. “Do we have to go out? I’m enjoying having you all to myself ...”

You smile and kiss him sweetly. “Soon baby. But let’s celebrate with some friends first.”

Max sighs but nods, taking your hand as you go open the door. Emma’s eyebrows shoot up as she takes in your thoroughly debauched state, but she politely doesn’t comment.

“Y/N! There you are! Oh, and congrats on the win,” she says to Max before turning back to you. “We’re all heading to Jimmy’z for the afterparty. You have to come!”

You hesitate, glancing at Max. “Oh, actually we already have plans ...”

“Come on, it will be like old times! We can squeeze you both in, I’m sure,” Emma pleads. Your former colleagues are beckoned over — Tom, Will, Sarah, and others waving excitedly.

Their eager faces make you pause, but Max just chuckles and slides an arm around your waist. “No need for squeezing into crowded clubs. I’ve already reserved some VIP booths so we can party properly.” He winks down at you.

“Oh! Well in that case, we’ll see you there.” Emma looks impressed. The others chatter excitedly as they head off to get ready.

You grin up at Max, arms looped around his neck. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Only the best for you, beautiful.” He kisses you softly before you head off hand-in-hand.

After making yourselves presentable again, you set out into the Monaco night. The Circuit de Monaco is still abuzz with energy, music and laughter pouring from every corner.

The line outside Jimmy’z stretches far down the block. But the bouncer immediately waves you through with a respectful “Mr. Verstappen, this way please.”

You exchange a smile with Max, who keeps you tucked close against his side. It still feels surreal being ushered into exclusive areas that once intimidated you. Now it’s your glamorous new normal.

“Y/N, you made it!” Emma jumps up and hugs you tight. She eyes your designer outfit and perfectly styled hair. “Damn, look at you! Got that WAG glow going on.”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. “Oh, thanks! Just trying to look the part, I guess.”

You chat and laugh with Emma and your former coworkers as music pulses around you. When the Go-Go dancer comes by with a tray of sparklers, you impulsively grab two, popping one in your mouth and handing the other to a wide-eyed Emma.

She fumbles to light hers, watching as you tilt your head back and laugh, little sparks showering your face.

“Girl, you are wild tonight!” Emma has to shout over the music. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

You just smile and rummage through your Birkin for lipstick to touch up, crossing and uncrossing your legs that sport sky-high Louboutins. Your time working 18 hour days hunched over a laptop feels like another lifetime.

Eventually needing a break from the noise, you head to the bar to refresh your drink. Emma joins you, peering at the menu.

“Damn, I can’t even pronounce half this stuff,” she laughs. “What are you thinking of getting?”

You scan the options. “Mmm, maybe the Dom Pérignon Rosé? Sounds nice.”

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “You really have gone full glam. I don’t think I ever saw you drink anything but Heineken at the track.”

You scoff, “Well we didn’t exactly have champagne on offer in our part of the paddock.”

You smile politely as the bartender brings your drink over. Emma is still eyeing you curiously.

“What?” You ask, laughing under her scrutiny.

“Nothing, just ...” She waves a hand at you. “Look at you with the designer outfit, Birkin bag, $500 drinks … you’re a whole new woman!”

You take a sip of the bubbly pink liquid and just smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, not at all!” Emma rushes to say. “You seem really happy. I’ve just never seen you like this before. You were always the practical, focused one. Now you look … fully embraced by the glitz.”

You lean against the bar, considering her words. She’s right — the old you never could’ve imagined fully embracing this lifestyle. But now you can’t imagine anything else.

“I am happier than I’ve ever been,” you tell her honestly. “With Max I’m free to enjoy life and not worry about anything. He takes care of it all.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “So he just … pays for everything, and you live this champagne lifestyle together?”

You smile, fingering the enormous diamond on your left hand. “Basically, yes. And it’s as amazing as it sounds. I’ll never need to work or stress over bills or anything again.”

“Huh.” Emma takes a thoughtful sip of her own drink. “Don’t you ever miss the thrill of data crunching and racing strategy though?”

You consider it for a moment. The thought of long hours analyzing race stats and performance metrics makes your brain hurt.

“You know … I really don’t,” you realize. “I can barely even remember the programs and systems we used. And I like it that way.”

Emma nods slowly. You can tell she’s making an effort to be open-minded about your new life. Before she can respond, you feel the presence of someone behind you.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” Max murmurs, sliding his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck. “This party is nowhere near as fun without you.”

You lean back into him happily. His passion and desire for you still give you the same flutters as that first night together in Barcelona. You doubt that will ever change.

Turning in his arms, you accept the kiss he gives you, not caring that Emma is still standing there. Let her see how crazy you are for each other.

When you pull back, Max smiles down at you like you’re the only person in the crowded club. “Dance with me?” He extends a hand, already gently pulling you towards the dancefloor.

You let him lead you away without a backwards glance. Emma can think what she wants, but she can’t possibly understand your relationship with Max. You know this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Max hands you a fresh glass of champagne and keeps an arm curled around your waist as you sway together. The music and alcohol fill you with euphoria.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Max murmurs in your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You smile up at him coyly. “Feel free to keep reminding me.”

Max’s answering grin is sinful. His hands travel your body as you move together. “I plan to show you later just how irresistible I find you.”

The night flies by in a blur of dancing, drinks, and stolen kisses in the shadows with Max. Your former colleagues party into the early morning, but eventually stumble back to their hotels.

You and Max retreat back to your shared apartment just as dawn breaks over the horizon. As promised, your dress hits the floor immediately. He ravages you with hungry kisses, urging you higher and higher until you cry out his name again and again.

After, wrapped securely in his arms, you sigh in utter contentment. The smooth sheets feel divine against your skin and Max gently strokes your hair as you doze against his chest.

“So I take it you had fun?” He asks, a smile in his voice.

You lift your head to grin at him. “It was amazing. Although ...” You bite your lip coyly.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Although what, schatje?”

“Well, this part is still my favorite.” You punctuate your point by straddling his waist again, bending to kiss him deeply.

Max groans appreciatively against your mouth, hands grasping your hips. “Mmm mine too. In fact, I don’t think we’re done celebrating yet ...”

Your lips part in ecstasy and your nails rake down his back as he takes you right to the edge again and again. Finally collapsing in a tangle of sweaty limbs, you’re both completely spent and blissful. You curl into Max’s side, eyes drifting shut.

“I love you so much,” you murmur, the words slurring together.

Max kisses your hair, stroking your back. “I love you too, Y/N. Being with you is a dream.”

You slip into peaceful dreams still wrapped in each other. The glitz and glamour of F1 life is fun, but nothing compares to the private world you share with Max.

You’ll face the crowds and cameras again soon. But right now, lost in Max’s embrace, you have everything you need.

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nyoomfruits · 1 month ago

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osctober day twelve

prompt: fairytale pairing: lando/oscar word count: 600w a/n: set in the same universe as this drabble :)

“So,” Lando says, when he makes his way into the tiny little office Oscar has in the McLaren Motorhome. He shares it with the other race engineers, so it’s just four desk pushed together in the teeniest space ever. “I had the most interesting conversation with my daughter today.”

“Did you,” Oscar says, barely looking up from his laptop, where he’s going over the latest data. He knows there’s time to win for them in the first sector. If only he can figure out how.

“Yeah,” Lando says, leaning against the wall across from Oscar. “She says you’ve been telling her stories. Fairytales, to be exact.”

Oscar abandons his laptop, looks up with a guilty look on her face. “Listen, I’m sorry, but you were having all these interviews, and she was bored, and the nanny was like, on her last leg, and I offered to tell her a story, and I don’t know, I just panicked so I just started telling her the first thing that popped in my head, and then she like that so she kept asking, and-“

Lando holds up his hand. “I’m not mad. I wanted to uh. Thank you, actually. I mean. I know how hard it must be for her sometimes, flying all over the world, me being busy all the time. I’m glad she has you.” He pauses, and then hastily adds. “And the nanny, and others, of course. But. Yeah. You, too.”

“Oh,” Oscar says. “Yeah. Thanks. I don’t mind. She’s a good kid.”

“Hm,” Lando says. “She told me what the stories were about.”

Oscar stares back at his laptop, pretends to be very interested in Lando’s FP2 data all of sudden. “Did she?”

“Prince Lando, huh?” Lando says, amused tone in his voice. “Nice touch.”

“Thanks,” Oscar says, trying really hard not to blush.

“Say, tell me,” Lando says, pushing off the wall, making his way over to Oscar’s desk. He towers over him like this, something that doesn’t happen often. Oscar has to look up to meet his eye. “This Prince Lando. Does he ever meet his princess?”

“Uh,” Oscar says, trying not to let his disappointment at the question show. “I mean, he’s been pretty busy with the dragon riding and the defeating evil wizards, but I can pencil it in for the next story, if you want.”

Lando shakes his head. “Let me rephrase that. Does he ever find his… prince?”

Oscar’s head shoots up, meets Lando’s eyes. Lando’s smiling, head tilted to the side. Curious. Open. Genuine. “I. Uh. He might?”

“Hm,” Lando says. “And what if he doesn’t want a prince? What if there’s a knight he’s got his eyes on? A very loyal one. Kind, too. Funny. Gets along with the prince’s daughter. What if he wants him?”

Oscar breathes out a little shakily. “Then I’d say he’d have to go get him, yeah?” He says. His palms are sweating. His everything is sweating. What is even happening right now.

Lando nods. “Sounds like a plan,” he says, and then he leans forward and presses his lips against Oscar’s in the softest, gentlest kiss he’s ever received. Before he can even properly respond Lando has pulled away, made his way back over to the door. In the doorway, he turns around. “Dinner?” He asks, like he’s asked so many times.

“Yeah, I, yeah,” Oscar says, trying not to trip over his own feet in his haste to get out of his chair, his lips still tingling from the kiss, the sparkle in Lando’s eyes a promise for much more to come.

The door to the tiny little office closes behind them with a decisive click.

#landoscar #drabble #osctober 2024

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formula-nyoom · 7 months ago

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Rookie Reflections | LS2

Platonic! Logan Sargent x Rookie!Reader

Summary: Being the only new addition to the grid, it may seem intimidating to try and introduce yourself to the other drivers. Logan remembers exactly what it's like to be the new rookie and doesn't want a repeat of what happened to him to happen to anyone else.

A/N: Pronouns weren’t specified so I tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible. I still haven’t decided if I want to write in 2nd or 3rd person, it really depends on the fic/request. Previous reader inserts I have written have been done in 2nd person so I defaulted to that with this fic, but do let me know which one you prefer. Logan, my favorite driver, I’m glad my first request is for him. Also I have no hate towards Daniel, it just made a lot more sense to me for the reader to take his seat.

Silly season didn’t come with a lot of shake ups like people expected it to. The only team to switch up their driver line up for the upcoming season was RB, with Daniel being replaced by the newest Formula 2 champion after not delivering the results Red Bull had wanted from him.

You had met Yuki for the first time during the car launch before pre-season testing, but with all the cameras, interviews, and excitement surrounding the new car launch, you were unable to find the time to properly get to know each other. You had hoped to get a chance to maybe sit down with Yuki and get to know your new teammate, but now in Bahrain with all the drivers in one place it seemed that all of them had already split off into their pre-established friend groups that had been built up over years of racing alongside each other, Yuki included.

That’s the thing with being the only new driver for the season: All the other drivers already knew each other well enough that you felt too intimidated to approach any of them. Going to Formula 2 where you knew almost all the drivers to Formula 1 where you knew no one, it was like being the new kid at school. And that seemed even more evident during the pre-season photoshoot.

Yuki still had some last bits of data to go over with his engineer so you arrived at the photoshoot without your teammate. While you did arrive early, most of the drivers were already there, either talking with each other or members of their team. A few gave you curious glances, maybe an awkward smile or two, but none felt the need to approach. Not wanting to risk bothering anyone, you decided to find a spot secluded from the various groups of people while you waited for either Yuki to show up or for the photoshoot to start. Maybe when the photographer started to position people for the photos, you could possibly strike up a conversation with whoever was placed near you. But for now, you felt content standing off to the side where no one would really approach you. Or so you thought.

Logan had forgotten something in the Williams garage, making him arrive at the photoshoot after Alex. And while he could have walked over to his teammate, who was currently chatting with George, he noticed you standing off to the side. You were away from everyone to where you wouldn’t get in the way as you scrolled through your phone.

Logan knows that move. He did it many times during his rookie season because of how out of place he felt. But he also wasn’t the only rookie during his season, unlike you who was the only new person to the grid. He can probably guess how nervous or out of place you may seem. Logan knows that feeling. He hates that feeling and wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Maybe that’s why he had decided to approach you. Or maybe it was because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to since Alex was busy talking to George, and Oscar was busy talking to Lando. Either way, he thought it was a good idea to introduce himself.

“Hey,” Logan said, getting your attention. “You’re the new RB driver, right?”

Logan already knew the answer to that question, but he thought that was a better question to ask than pointing out the fact that you’re the new rookie.

“Yea, I am.” You said. Guess you were wrong about people not approaching you as you looked at the man standing before you.

“I’m Logan.” He said, holding out his hand for you to shake. You already knew his name before he introduced himself. Hell, you knew all drivers names on the grid but that was another intimidating reason why you hadn’t tried to approach anyone.

“I’m (Y/N).” You said, shaking Logan’s hand.

“So, are you excited for the upcoming season?” Logan asked.

“Yea. The car seems to be a good contender with the testing we’ve done so far. Hopefully I’ll be able to score some points by the end of the season.”

“What makes you think you won’t get points at the beginning?” Logan asked.

“Well I am the rookie this season. I’m still getting used to the car, it’s a huge difference from the F2 car I was driving last year. Plus everyone else has been racing longer than I have. It's gonna take me a while to catch up.” You explained.

“Oh come on, don’t doubt yourself this early. Trust me, it doesn’t help.” Logan said. You shrugged.

“I guess you’re right. I mean, I’m gonna try my best no matter what, but the highest I can see myself getting for the first race is P15.” You told him.

“That’s a good start. “ Logan said. He smiled and you couldn’t help but smile as well. The two of you ended up talking about what you both did over the winter break and your expectations for the season until the photographer called for the photoshoot to start. You hadn’t even realized Yuki had arrived until the photographer positioned you two next to each other.

“I saw you and Logan talking earlier. I hope it was a good conversation.” He whispered as you waited for the photographer to take a picture.

“He was just introducing himself. We talked about our expectations for the season.” You told him. Yuki smiled a bit.

“Logan’s always been nice. I’m glad you’re getting to know some of the other drivers.”

~~~

“Come on Yuki, pick up!” You mumbled as the call went to voicemail again. After pre-season testing had wrapped up, you had finally managed to get to know Yuki by going out to get dinner together with the rest of the team. He had promised that the two of you would walk together through the paddock on the first day of the season, but after arriving at the entrance you saw no sign of your teammate. And the fact that he wasn’t answering his phone didn’t help either. But looking around towards all the cars pulling in towards the entrance, you did however see Logan arriving.

“Logan!” You quickly walked over to him as he got closer to the entrance.

“Hey. What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with your team?” He asked, noticing the lack of anyone from RB with you.

“Well me and Yuki were supposed to walk in together, but I can’t find him anywhere and he’s not answering my calls.” You said. You looked past the turnstiles at the entrance to the paddock. “I don’t really want to walk in by myself.”

“Do you want me to walk in with you?” Logan asked. You looked back at him.

“If it’s not too much to ask.” You said. Logan just shook his head and smiled.

“It’s no bother.” He said. He gently ushered you towards the entrance and the two of you walked through. It was an understatement to say that you were nervous to greet the cheering fans that stood by the barriers with things to sign. But knowing that Logan was right next you signing things as well and taking pictures with fans made you less nervous. You even got to take some pictures with him and fans as well.

“If I wore all these friendship bracelets in the car, I think I would add an extra pound.” You joked as the two of you walked past the various team garages.

“Soon you’re gonna end up having a full storage closet at your house just full of stuff that fans have given you.” Logan said. You smiled at that idea.

“Hopefully I won’t develop carpal tunnel from all the stuff I’m gonna have to sign over the year.” Good thing being a Formula 1 driver consists more of driving cars than signing things.”

“You say that now, but just wait until the RB merchandise team sits you down in a room filled with driver cards you have to sign. Your wrist is going to be so sore afterwards.” Logan said. You let out a chuckle.

“(Y/N)!” You turned to see Yuki, coming from the RB hospitality, running over to the two of you. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry. They put me in the press conference at the last minute. I had to come early.” Yuki explained.

“It’s ok Yuki. Logan walked in with me.” You said. You turned back to Logan. “Thank you, by the way. I should probably go see my team.”

“Like I said, it was no bother. I’d be happy to walk the paddock with you anytime.” He said. “I’ll see you two on the track.”

He waved goodbye and then headed to the William’s garage as you headed with Yuki back to the RB hospitality to get ready for the upcoming practice sessions.

~~~

“Ok (Y/N). We’ve been knocked out of Q1. You are P17.” Your race engineer said through the radio as the qualifying session ended and you slowed your car down for a cool down lap.

“Not the result I had hoped for, but it’s something I can improve upon. Did Yuki make it to Q2?” You asked, making your way into the pit lane.

“Yes, Yuki did make it into Q2.” Your engineer said.

“That’s good. Hope he can make it into Q3.” You pulled into your designated pitlane and flipped up your visor to let some air into your helmet as the pit crew pulled your car into the garage.

After changing out of your race suit and fireproofs, you put on a pair of headphones and joined the crew in watching Q2. You were happy to see that Logan made it into Q2 as well, and was secretly hoping he would make it into Q3 along with Yuki. Both of them did good laps during Q2 but Yuki unfortunately was only able to place P11. Logan barely managed to get by into Q3, but couldn’t place any higher and ended up in front of your teammate, placing P10 for tomorrow’s race. After congratulating Yuki on his placement, you left the RB garage to go look for Logan to do the same thing. You didn’t have to look far, as the American driver was exiting the William’s garage as you approached.

“Hey, nice driving today!” You said, giving Logan’s shoulder a congratulatory pat.

“Thanks. I’m shocked I was able to make it into Q3. I thought I was going to get knocked out in Q2, I didn’t expect Lance to get his lap time deleted.” Logan said. “Where’d you place?”

“P17. I wasn’t able to gain enough speed on my last lap to get myself to a higher placement.” You said. “But that’s ok. I just need to overtake the 7 cars in front of me to get to P10 and get into the points. How hard can that be?”

You laughed, your last sentence meaning to be a joke. Logan let out a small chuckle, but he was taking what you said seriously.

“I think you can do it. But only do it after I’ve overtaken a couple cars myself. I’d also like to get some points during the race.” He said.

“Deal!”

~~~

It was officially race day and your nerves seemed to be bouncing as fast as the cars that would be on track soon. You had felt confident throughout the week, being on the track and going over data with the team. But with the race starting in a couple hours, the fact that you were about to debut in your first Formula One race was starting to become very real.

“You squeeze that water bottle any tighter, it’s gonna explode.” You were brought out of your spiraling thoughts by Logan as he approached you from the side. Looking down, you did see that the water bottle you were holding was almost ready to burst from the steel grip you had on it.

“Sorry, I’m just thinking about the race today.” You said, loosening your grip on the bottle.

In a similar scenario to pre-season testing, the two of you were waiting to start the drivers parade.

“It’s ok to be nervous about your first race. Every driver is.” He said.

“What if I crash the car?” You asked. Logan shook his head.

“You won’t.”

“What if I can’t overtake any cars and finish last?”

“You won’t finish last.”

“What if-”

“Hey.” Logan placed his hands on your shoulders and made you look at him. “You’re going to be fine. You drove well during testing and practice. You can overtake the cars in front of you. And even if you finish last, so what? It’s your first race. You’re going to make mistakes and that’s ok.” Logan said. His hands on your shoulder and the speech he just gave you seemed to steel your nervous a bit as you took in what he said.

“Just try to have fun. Can you promise me that?” Logan asked. He held up his pinkie and you almost laughed at the childlike implications. But the serious look on Logan’s face stopped you. You linked your pinkie with his and nodded.

“I promise.”

The two of you ended up staying next to each other during the drivers parade, waving to fans as the truck drove by. Interviews were also happening during the parade, and with you being the new rookie, you had to be interviewed.

“So (Y/N), you're about to make your Formula 1 debut in your first Formula 1 race. How are you feeling?” The interviewer asked.

“I’m both very nervous and very excited. I’m starting at the back of the grid, but I’m gonna try to do my best.” You said.

“I know, with being the newest addition to the grid, you may feel like you stand out. Besides your teammate Yuki, have there been any other drivers that you’ve gotten to know during pre-season testing or this weekend?”.

“Logan actually introduced himself to me during pre-season testing and we’ve gotten to know each other a bit.” You told the interviewer. “It feels a bit intimidating being surrounded by these great drivers that I’ve always hoped to have a chance to drive alongside, so I’m really grateful to Logan for being someone on the grid that I can talk to and get to know, besides Yuki of course.”

“Have you guys talked about anything in particular? Any expectations for your first race?”

“Logan actually gave me a really good pep talk before the drivers parade. It really helped calm my nerves down a bit. I’m gonna take Logan’s advice and try to have fun.” You said with a smile. The interviewer thanked you for your time and moved on to interview a different driver as you made your way back over to Logan. After waving to a bunch of fans, the parade concluded and you and the rest of the drivers got off the truck.

“What are you going to do during this race?” Logan asked you before the two of you departed to get ready for the race.

“Have fun!” You said.

“That’s right.” He gave your shoulder a reassuring pat and left for the William’s garage while you headed back to RB, your nerves seemingly having lessened.

Logan’s pep talk seemed to be exactly what you needed. You ended up finishing the race in P11, just out of the points but only two spots behind Yuki.

“(Y/N) that was a fantastic first race! Well done!” Your engineer's voice came through the radio as you waved while driving around the track.

“Oh my god! Thank you so much! That was so much fun! I couldn’t have done it without you or the team!” You said enthusiastically as you pulled into parc ferme. You sat in the car for a couple seconds, taking in the feeling of making it through your first Formula One race. Then, you took the wheel out and stepped out of the car.

Some of the pit crew workers gave you pats on the back or the shoulder, congratulating you on making it through your first race. As your eyes scanned the pit lane, looking for your team, they landed on the familiar America-decorated helmet of Logan.

“Logan!” You called as you jogged over to him. His eyes lit up at your approach and met you halfway.

“Nice one champ! P11 on debut!” He said, raising his hand for a high five before bringing you in for a brief congratulatory hug.

“I was so close to getting into points but I couldn’t catch up. You drove amazingly though! Congrats on P5!” You told him.

“Hey, don’t put yourself down for being “just” out of the points. Next race, you and I are going to be in the top 10.” He said. “Did you have fun?”

“Yea!” You exclaimed. Both your smiles seemed to grow.

“I told you! Come on, let’s go get weighed and you can tell me everything about the race.” Logan slung his arm over your shoulder as he led you over to the weigh stations.

The two of you spent the rest of the night recounting each of your guys' events of the race, every overtake and every mistake either of you made. Eventually exhaustion started to hit both of you and the two of you decided to head back to your hotel rooms.

“Thank you.” You said to Logan as you stood infront of your room after Logan offered to walk you back.

“For what?” He asked.

“For introducing yourself to me during pre-season testing. I honestly didn’t think I would be able to get to know anyone on the grid this season. All the other drivers seem to know each other really well or are just really intimidating.” You said, fidgeting with your fingers for a bit before looking back up at him “But I’m really glad to say that you're the first friend I’ve made on the grid.”

Logan’s smile seemed to lower and you grew concerned. But he noticed this and quickly change his expression to reassurance.

“I know how hard it is to make friends in this sport and I also know how isolating it can be. I didn’t want what happened in my rookie season to happen to you.” He told you. “I’m glad that you’re my friend too.”

You smiled, touched by what he said and happy that he considered you a friend as well. You held up your pinkie towards him.

“Promise that we’ll both be in the points next race?”

He linked your pinkie with his and matched your smile.

“I promise.”

#formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #logan sargent x reader #platonic grid x reader

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elladreams · 3 months ago

Text

The Perfect Setup (Zandvoort) // LN4

summary: Zandvoort '24. A young engineering prodigy, recruited by McLaren to solve complex F1 challenges, grapples with media scrutiny and an undeniable chemistry with driver Lando Norris. As tensions rise during a crucial race, they must balance professional duty with their growing personal connection.

warnings: she/her reader, smut (18+), unprotected (shower 😳) sex, size kink.

words: 6.9K

The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that reverberated through the paddock. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline mixed with the salty breeze from the nearby coast, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that signaled another race was about to begin. The McLaren garage was a hive of activity—mechanics making last-minute adjustments, engineers poring over data, and drivers mentally preparing for the challenge ahead. Amidst the controlled chaos, you stood, a pillar of calm in a world of speed.

You have always stood out, a prodigy in a field where experience often outweighed talent. But here you were, at the heart of one of the most prestigious teams in Formula 1, your hands and mind guiding the finely-tuned machinery that could make or break a race. At just twenty-two, you were already a respected figure in the paddock, known for your brilliance in engineering and your unyielding dedication to the sport.

Your family had sacrificed so much to help you reach your potential. You were always miles ahead of the other kids. While they were playing with dolls or video games, you were more interested in how those things worked. At six years old, you were already taking apart remote control cars, not to play with them, but to understand the intricate systems that made them move. By the time you were ten, you were building small engines from scratch, fascinated by the power and precision of mechanical systems.

Your parents quickly realized they had a prodigy on their hands. They encouraged your curiosity, enrolling you in expensive science and engineering programs meant for kids much older than you. You thrived in these environments, always eager to learn more, to push the boundaries of what you could create. By the time you were a teenager, you had already won several national engineering competitions, earning a reputation as a young genius in the world of mechanics.

When you first discovered Formula 1, everything changed. The speed, the technology, the sheer complexity of the cars—it captivated you like nothing else. You devoured everything you could find about F1 engineering, learning about aerodynamics, power units, and the delicate balance between speed and control. While other teenage girls were dreaming of prom dresses and much older boyfriends , you were dreaming of being in the garage, fine-tuning the machines that drove the world of motorsport.

Your parents knew that pursuing a career in F1 was a long shot, especially for a young woman, but they supported you every step of the way. They worked multiple jobs and sacrificed their own dreams so that you could chase yours.

Thankfully, your talent didn’t go unnoticed. By the time you were 16, you had caught the attention of several top engineers in the F1 world, earning an internship with Mercedes. You quickly made a name for yourself as a technical genius, capable of understanding and improving complex systems that seasoned engineers struggled with. The paddock buzzed with stories of the young girl who was instrumental in Mercedes' dominance.

With your newfound fame came an onslaught of media attention. Reporters from major news outlets were relentless, hounding you for interviews and prying into every aspect of your life. They asked invasive questions about your personal relationships, sought your opinions on the sport's latest controversies, and even pressed you to address misogynistic rumors linking you romantically with certain drivers. The spotlight, once a place of professional pride, had become a battlefield where your every word was scrutinized, and your achievements were often overshadowed by baseless gossip.

Zak Brown fought tooth and nail to bring you to McLaren, recognizing that you were the missing piece they needed to conquer the new regulations. When it became clear that the team was struggling to master the latest specifications, he knew they needed someone with your unique blend of technical expertise and innovative thinking. Zak saw in you a mind that could bridge the gap between theory and practice, someone who could not only understand the intricacies of the new rules but also translate them into real-world performance on the track.

But today, on the day of Max Verstappen's home race, there was an unmistakable charge in the air—tensions were higher, the stakes more personal. It wasn’t just another race; it was a proving ground, not only for the car but for you, the team, and especially for the driver who had become both your greatest challenge and your fiercest ally: Lando Norris.

Lando, the young, fiercely talented star of McLaren, had a natural charm that made him a media darling, but it was his relentless drive to win that truly defined him. From the moment you joined the team, your relationship with Lando had been anything but smooth. Your strong wills collided over every detail, every decision. He saw you as a nuisance, someone who constantly questioned his instincts and pushed him beyond his comfort zone. To you, Lando was stubborn, even arrogant at times—a driver who needed to understand that perfection on the track wasn't just about raw talent but about achieving the perfect synergy between man and machine. And today, that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve.

Standing in the garage, you reviewed the data on your tablet for what felt like the hundredth time. You had pulled an all-nighter, fine-tuning an experimental setup that you believed could give Lando the edge he needed on this notoriously challenging circuit. But convincing him to trust your untested approach was another matter.

Lando stormed into the garage, the top part of his race suit hanging low on his hips revealing his fire proofs, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing at the setup specs displayed on the screen. “This is what you’ve been working on all night?”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This setup could give you the downforce you need through the corners without sacrificing speed on the straights. I’ve run the simulations a dozen times—it works.”

“Simulations?” Lando scoffed, running a hand through his curls in agitation. “Simulations aren’t the same as the real thing. We can’t afford to take risks like this, not here, not today.”

“This isn’t a risk, Lando,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension. “This is a calculated decision based on hard data. I wouldn’t be recommending it if I didn’t believe it would make a difference.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to recognize all too well. “You’re asking me to trust a setup we’ve never used in a race, in front of Max’s home crowd, no less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it costs me the race?”

“And what if it wins you the race?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “You know as well as I do that playing it safe isn’t going to cut it against Verstappen on his home turf. We need every advantage we can get, and this setup is that advantage.”

Lando stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But you didn’t waver. You believed in this setup, and more importantly, you believed in him.

Finally, he relented, nodding slowly. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I swear I will never let you live it down."

“It will” you interrupted, a small tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be right there with you, making sure it does.”

A ghost of a smirk played on his face, his eyes betraying the glimmer of a sparkle. For a moment, the garage was silent, the two of you standing closer than you realized, caught in the intensity of the moment. The intoxicating blend of his dark, amber-scented perfume mingled with the unmistakable and familiar scent of the paddock, created a heady aroma that threatened to cloud your senses entirely.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes. You could feel your cheeks burning as his gaze caressed you.

Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell and stepping back.

"Well, let's get this done." he said, his usual light tone returning as he ran a hand through his hair again. "Wouldn't want to keep the adoring crowd waiting." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, thankful for the change in energy.

You both turned back to the screen to finalize the setup adjustments. As you worked side by side, the air between you felt different—not just charged with the usual tension, but with a deeper, more intimate connection. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, and you had moved from being teammates to something more.

The race was minutes away, but for the first time, you felt like you were truly part of a team—Lando’s team. And that, more than anything, was what mattered. The moments before the race were a blur of final checks and hurried conversations. You stood by Lando’s car, your heart pounding with adrenaline, not just from the intensity of the race but from something deeper—something you were trying desperately not to acknowledge. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Zandvoort Circuit, you caught Lando’s eye. He was already in his race suit, helmet in hand, but there was a softness in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you’d both been dancing around for months.

The starting grid was tense with anticipation. Lando had secured pole position in a spectacular qualifying session, and the team was buzzing with excitement. But everyone knew this race wouldn’t be easy—not with Verstappen starting right behind him, eager to impress his home crowd.

The lights went out, and the roar of the engines filled the air as the cars launched off the line. Lando got a good start, but so did Verstappen. As they barreled into the first corner, Verstappen made a daring move, diving down the inside and taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of orange on its feet as their hometown hero took charge.

“Hold steady,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen. Lando had lost the lead, but the race was far from over.

The next few laps were a blur of precision and strategy. Lando stayed close to Verstappen, not letting him get away, but it was clear that the McLaren’s setup was allowing him to conserve his tires while maintaining pace. The tension was palpable, every corner, every straight a testament to the fine-tuning you and the team had worked so hard to perfect.

As the race approached its midpoint, an opportunity presented itself. Verstappen, pushing hard to maintain his lead, began to show signs of tire degradation. You watched the data closely, your fingers gripping the edge of the console.

“This is it, Lando,” you said over the radio, your voice steady but laced with anticipation. “His tires are gone. You’ve got this.”

Lando didn’t respond, but you knew he’d heard you. His driving became more aggressive, more precise, as he closed the gap to Verstappen. And then, on lap 47, the moment you’d been waiting for arrived. Lando set himself up perfectly coming out of Turn 9, using the slipstream to his advantage. As they approached the hairpin, he made his move, diving down the inside with the confidence of a driver who knew his car—and his own abilities—were more than a match for the challenge.

He retook the lead, and this time, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Nicely done, Lando!” you cheered into the radio, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. The entire team erupted in applause, but your focus remained on the car, on the driver who had just reminded everyone why he was one of the best.

The final laps were a masterclass in control. Lando maintained his lead, keeping Max at bay and managing his tires to perfection, while also building a substantial gap. As he crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag, the McLaren garage exploded in celebration.

“You did it, Lando! You won!” The words burst out of you, the relief and joy evident in every syllable.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio, filled with the same emotion. “We did it. The car came alive.” A flush of pride warmed your cheeks. This was your win, too—your idea, your hard work, your dedication to perfection.

As Lando pulled into the pit lane, the world seemed to slow down. He stepped out of the car, removing his helmet to reveal a smile that lit up his entire face. You had joined the team to celebrate alongside Lando. Before you knew it, he was walking toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. The team was cheering, clapping him on the back, but Lando didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you.” He said simply, the words full of meaning.

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, the rush of adrenaline and pride filling you with a new kind of certainty. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you. You squeezed his hand, your heart racing not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the intensity of the moment between you. “Thank you for trusting me, Lando.”

There was a brief silence, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Then, with a quick glance around as if to check that no one was watching too closely, Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he repeated, a whisper that sent your heart into overdrive.

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. “And we’ll do it again.”

The race had been a victory, but this moment—standing with Lando, the connection between you undeniable—felt like something even more precious. It was the start of something new, something that went beyond the garage and the racetrack.

—-

The podium celebration had been nothing short of electrifying. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, and the sight of Lando beaming as he hoisted the trophy high above his head was a moment you knew you would never forget. As the McLaren team gathered to celebrate, you found yourself on the podium alongside Lando, representing the team that had worked tirelessly to secure this victory. It was a whirlwind of emotions—pride and undeniable joy.

But as you made your way back to the garage drenched in Ferrari champagne, the adrenaline of the win still pulsing through your veins, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chiara, McLaren’s senior PR manager. Her usually composed expression was tense, and you could tell immediately that she had something on her mind.

“Great job out there,” Chiara started, her voice measured but tinged with concern. “The team couldn’t be happier, but we need to talk.” Your stomach sank as a sense of foreboding crept over you. Chiara had been your main point of contact for media communication since joining the team, and you knew that if she was this worried, it must be something serious. You felt a knot form in your stomach. The way she was looking at you told you that this wasn’t just about the race. “What’s on your mind, Chiara?”

She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, then pulled you aside into a quieter corner of the garage. “Look, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but we need to be careful about how things appear. The media and fans are already buzzing about you and Lando, especially after that little moment after the finish.”

Your mind flashed back to the celebration, to the kiss on the cheek Lando had given you, the way his hand had lingered on yours just a bit longer than necessary. It had felt private, special, but of course, nothing was truly private in the world of Formula 1, especially not when the cameras were always rolling.

“You know how it is,” Chiara continued, her tone softening slightly. “Fans are passionate, and the media loves a good story. They’ll spin anything to make headlines. I’m not saying you can’t have…whatever it is you have with Lando, but we need to manage the optics. The last thing we want is for this to distract from the team’s success.”

You nodded, understanding her concerns. The last thing you wanted was to give the press ammunition to turn your hard-earned victory into tabloid fodder. But the idea of keeping your newfound feelings for Lando hidden, of pretending there was nothing between you, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

“I get it, Chiara,” you said finally, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m not going to let them turn this into a scandal. Lando and I…we’re professionals first. We’ll handle this.”

Chiara smiled, relieved by your response. “I know you will. Just keep in mind that perception is everything in this sport. And right now, you both have the world’s attention.”

With that, Chiara gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to her next order of business. You stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, letting her words sink in. The exhilaration of the victory still buzzed through you, but it was now tinged with the sobering reality of the situation. The weight of her advice pressed down on your shoulders, reminding you that nothing in this world came without its complications.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, dislodging tiny droplets of champagne that sprayed out like glittering confetti. The sticky remnants of the podium celebration clung to you, a tangible reminder of the night’s highs. What you needed now was a serious shower—something to wash away not just the champagne, but the lingering tension from your conversation with Chiara.

As you made your way toward the team’s private quarters, the hum of activity in the paddock slowly faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Chiara’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the reality you both lived in—a world where every glance, every gesture, could be dissected and spun into a narrative you had little control over. The media would indeed be relentless, and the fans, always watching, would be insatiable in their curiosity. But how could you distance yourself from something—or someone—that had become so central to your life, to your happiness? The chemestry you shared with Lando was undeniable, and no amount of PR maneuvering could erase what you felt for him.

As you reached the lockers, you turned on the shower, eagerly anticipating the soothing warmth of the water to ease the tension knotted in your muscles. The promise of relief was a welcome thought after the intensity of the day.

You let out a small sigh, beginning to discard your champagne-soaked clothes. The polo that had clung to your skin now felt heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as you peeled it off and tossed it into the laundry bin. The day’s victories and challenges seemed to weigh on you all at once. The exhilaration of the win, the tension with Lando, the quiet moments where everything between you felt so effortless—they all mingled in your mind, creating a cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both intoxicated and exhausted.

You stood there for a moment, stripped down to your underwear, the cool air of the locker room a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Lando entering until you felt his presence, a subtle shift in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The realization of how exposed you were hit you all at once—half-naked and vulnerable in more ways than one.

Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but something in the way Lando looked at you made you pause. His eyes, darker now with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, roamed over your body, lingering on the curves and lines revealed by your lack of clothing. The heat that flushed your cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his gaze set your skin ablaze. You couldn't meet his gaze fully, not when you were absolutely sure it would burn you from the inside.

He murmured your name, his voice low, vibrating with a tension that matched the fire in his eyes. The way he said it, the way his gaze traced over you, made it feel like a caress. “Look at me.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and you met it head-on, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his. In the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, his features seemed more defined, his jawline sharper, his lips fuller.

There was no mistaking the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, a reflection of the same need that pulsed through your veins. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the space between you crackling with a chemistry that had been building for far too long.

Lando took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and with each inch he closed, the air around you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin—champagne and amber with a hint of the adrenaline that still lingered from the race—filling your senses.

The silence stretched between you, and yet, it was as if an entire conversation was taking place, unspoken but understood. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, the tension between you palpable. "I can practically hear that big brain of yours working overtime." he said, his voice even lower now, almost a rumble. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. The touch was gentle, but it was enough to make you shiver, your skin hypersensitive to every point of contact.

The last remnants of your resolve began to crumble, and you could see the same struggle playing out in Lando’s eyes. There was a flicker of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the space between you—whether to cross this line, to take what you both so clearly wanted.

But then he stepped even closer, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid between you. His eyes followed the path his hand made, and when he looked back up at you, there was no more hesitation, only a hunger that mirrored your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, as though he was barely holding himself back.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, a familiar ache begging to be satisfied. With every brush of his fingers, you felt your resolve crumbling.

You tilted your chin up, your lips parting in invitation. The look in his eyes was pure need, a reflection of the desire coursing through you. He leaned in, his breath warm on your lips, his scent simply intoxicating now that it was mixed with the sharp fruity champagne.

It was as if time had slowed down, and all you could focus on was the heat of his body, the anticipation of his touch, the promise of everything that would come next. And then, finally, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The feel of his lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing across your skin. His mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of him. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—the combination of the champagne, the adrenaline, and the sheer relief of finally giving in to the chemistry that had been simmering between you was enough to make your head spin.

As his hands roamed over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever they touched, you could feel your body responding, the desire building with every passing second. He kissed you like a man starved, and you met his hunger with your own, matching his pace. Your hands found his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms, the heat of his skin drawing you in like a magnet. He was solid and real beneath your touch, and you pressed yourself against him, the sensation of his body against yours igniting something primal and uncontrollable inside you.

Lando’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands splaying across your back, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter between you, ready to snap.

“Lando,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more a plea than anything else.

That was all it took to break the final thread of restraint. There was no gentleness now, only the raw, urgent need that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp curls, pulling him even closer as his hands roamed over your back, your waist, every inch of skin he could reach. The heat of his body, the taste of him on your lips—it was overwhelming in the best possible way, drowning out every thought that wasn’t about him, about this.

Lando’s hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he had it undone, the fabric slipping away as his hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp against his mouth. The sound seemed to fuel him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he backed you up against the lockers, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat between you.

You could feel the solid press of his body against yours, his arousal evident as he pinned you to the lockers, his hands never ceasing their exploration. Reaching your panties, his fingers slid under the band, tugging them down in one smooth motion, his movements sure and confident, as if he knew exactly what he wanted. The sheer contrast of standing before him completely naked while he remained fully clothed amplified the raw vulnerability of the moment, making it feel intensely intimate and charged with a potent, almost primal, energy.

Your own hands moved lower, sliding down his clothed chest, his hard abs, until you reached the waistband of his pants. The feel of his muscles tensing under your touch sent another wave of desire through you, and you wasted no time in slipping your hand beneath the fabric, finding his impressive length and trying to wrap your fingers around him.

His forehead resting against yours as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the friction elicited a rush of pleasure that had him breaking the kiss to let out a curse. For a moment, he just stood there, his breath ragged, his hands tightening on your hips, as if trying to steady himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, and the raw honesty of it sent a thrill through you.

“Good,” you replied, your own voice husky with need, your hand beginning to move with deliberate strokes that had him groaning, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to keep himself in check. He reached for his fireproofs and pulled them off, his movements almost frantic. You helped him, pushing the fabric over his hips, revealing the perfection of his physique.

You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the lean, sculpted lines of his body, the taut muscles that flexed with each movement. You inhaled a sharp breath as your eyes finally landed on his cock, hard and swollen with desire. You were no stranger to the male anatomy as your hormones and curiosity had gotten the best of you in the past, but you were starting to become nervous about taking his impressive size inside of you.

Before your brain could spiral too far, you felt Lando's hands on you, his touch firm but gentle, his calloused fingertips sending shivers of pleasure through your body as he traced patterns along your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The chemistry between you had ignited into a full-blown inferno, and neither of you had any intention of putting it out.

In a fluid motion, Lando lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the shower that had been steaming in anticipation. You giggled as the warm water hit your skin, the tension between you melting away as the shower cascaded over you both.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver of anticipation down to your core.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," you replied, a challenge and a plea, and the heat that flared in his eyes at the words was enough to make you burn for him.

He lowered his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and deep, a delicious contrast to the urgency. His hand reached between your legs, finding the wetness there and stroking with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb circling your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he used it against you, building you up slowly but surely, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every expert movement of his hand.

You clung to him, your nails digging into the slick skin of his back, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the waves of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He entered two of his thick fingers making you whimper at the stretch. His free hand was on the side of your face, tilting it up to capture your lips with his, kissing you with a tenderness that belied the urgency of the situation. You knew he was trying his best to prepare you for his cock, but it was a lot. He was a lot.

"I don't think you're going to fit," you whispered, feeling embarrassed, but he just smiled, his fingers still working their magic.

"Oh, I will," he promised, and you felt a jolt of desire shoot through you at the certainty in his voice.

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you felt yourself clenching around his fingers, the pleasure intensifying as he stroked your g-spot with precision. Lando swallowed your moans, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of the water surrounding you, and the expert movements of his hand bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, his fingers working you relentlessly until the pleasure became too much, the tension snapping and sending you crashing over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling in its wake, and Lando held you close, his hands gentle now as he supported you. You were gasping for air, the feeling so intense it was almost overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice soft and low, the sound of it making something inside you ache.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost enough to make you forget how to breathe.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice full of emotion, and in that moment, you believed him.

Slowly, the haze of pleasure began to clear, and you became aware of the tension coiled in his body, the way his muscles were taut with restraint, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh. He was still rock-hard, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, to experience that connection on a deeper level.

"I'm ready," you breathed, your voice laced with a need that you could no longer deny.

He nodded as he turned you around, pressing your face against the cool tile, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Your breath hitched as he lined up his cock with your entrance, the blunt tip already threatening to breach you. He gathered some of your moisture by rubbing his tip against your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, as his other hand grabbed your neck, forcing you to arch your back. He took a moment to burn this very image in his mind. He had thought about this moment countless times before, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he could have imagined.

With a slow, deliberate push, he was able to get the head inside. Your eyes shut as you felt the stretch, his girth much more than you were used to. You let out a whimper as you reached for the hand currently holding your neck, seeking his support. You could hear him mutter under his breath, the words too quiet for you to make out. You assumed it was a string of curse words, but you didn't dare look.

With his hand gripping your hip, he pushed deeper, slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You could feel every vein on his perfect cock, the stretch dancing on the edge of pain and pleasure. He kept stopping, pulling back a bit and then pushing deeper again. You could tell he was doing his best to let you adjust to his size, but it was still a struggle.

Once he bottomed out, he groaned as you let out a sound that you've never heard yourself make before. A mixture between a moan and gasp. His hands traveled up your body, finding your breasts and giving them a squeeze, before settling on your shoulders. You could feel the water trickling down your back as the steam created a haze around the two of you. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of desire and concern.

"Yes," you answered, not even recognizing your own voice, "I'm just a little...full."

He chuckled at that, his cock twitching inside you. He slowly started moving his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up every nerve in your body. You couldn't string two thoughts together as he started creating a torturous rhythm. One of his hands travelled down to your bundle of nerves, pinching it with every thrust.

"Fuck," you cursed, "fuck, fuck, fuck." You couldn't believe how drunk you were on him.

He chuckled as he grabbed you from the now warm tile, resting you flat against his front. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper, making you whimper and whine with every thrust. His hands reached for your jaw, tilting it so he could stare deeply into your eyes. He was watching every reaction, every change in your expression.

"Tell me what you feel." he demanded, his voice hoarse, and you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare was almost enough to send you over the edge again, but you clung to the last threads of your self-control, desperate to prolong this moment.

"I feel...I feel everything," you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this b—"

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing the rest of your words. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of you could win. The heat between you was unbearable, the need for release consuming every thought. You knew he was close, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, less controlled. But you weren't ready to let go, not yet.

You pulled away from the kiss, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Please don't stop," you begged, your voice rough with need, "I need you, Lando."

That was all it took. His eyes darkened, and he let out a growl, his grip on your jaw tightening as he captured your lips again, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the raw hunger between you reaching a new level.

He fucked into you with wild abandon, his hips snapping as he chased his release. The pleasure was blinding, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, sending you spiraling toward the edge. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer hold back.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs as your body shuddered in his arms. Your eyes closed, the white light behind your eyelids pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only cling to him as you rode out the storm.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips finding the delicate skin there, sucking and nibbling. You could feel the pleasure building again, the combination of his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips against your neck sending you hurtling toward another climax.

"I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with need, "so close, fuck."

The words sent a surge of heat through you, and you clenched around him, feeling him shudder as his own release washed over him. You grabbed as his curls, forcing him to look at you, the intensity of his gaze pushing you over the edge again, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"Fuck, I can feel you," he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as your core milked him, the sensation of his release triggering another wave of pleasure.

You both clung to each other, riding out the waves, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless. You were both gasping for air, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Lando buried his face in your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the steady beat of the water as it cascaded over you. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so sated, so utterly spent.

Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of emotions—relief, contentment, and a hint of something else, something that sent a thrill through you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"That was...fuck," he said, his voice rough, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grinned, the joy and satisfaction evident in every line of your body. You could feel him slowly softening inside you, and you reluctantly unwrapped your legs, letting him slide out of you. You gasped feeling yourself become sore already. He chuckled as he noticed, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel, gently drying you off before lifting you up in his arms.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, a spark of humor in his voice, and you laughed, the sound echoing off the tiles, the sound carefree and light.

You kissed him, slow and deep, the kiss full of promises and possibilities. This was only the beginning, and you both knew it. You pulled back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and admiration, your heart full of the realization of what you'd found, the connection between you now undeniable.

"Get that perfect ass to media duty before they start sending out a search party," you teased, a chuckle escaping as you watched the realization of his looming responsibilities flicker across his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving you a quick peck on the lips before setting you down, "but just know, this was the best shower I've ever taken."

You smirked, unable to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, a sense of calm washed over you, the satisfaction of the moment lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. The memory of his touch, the weight of his body against yours, the deliciously filthy sounds he had coaxed from you, would stay with you forever, a private treasure. You sighed, reveling in the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop you, the afterglow of your tryst still humming through your veins.

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its-avalon-08 · 7 months ago

Note

Can you write something fluffy, like meeting Kimi Raikkonen for the first time, maybe based on the song "Enchanted" by Taylor Swift ????? Please and thank you 😊

iceman and his sunshine (kr7)

the sterile white of the ferrari garage felt even colder as you nervously adjusted your headset. your first day as a junior engineer, and you were lucky enough to be assigned to the legendary kimi raikkonen. "iceman" they called him, known for his stoicism and monosyllabic interviews.

forcing laughter, faking smiles

suddenly, a figure loomed. tall, broad-shouldered, with an air of quiet intensity. it was kimi. you braced yourself, but before you could stammer a greeting, he surprised you.

"you must be the new one," he said, his voice surprisingly deep and warm. "y/n, right?"

"y-yes," you stammered, cheeks burning. "nice to meet you, kimi."

a flicker of a smile – a genuine one, crinkling the corners of his ice-blue eyes – played on his lips. "welcome to the team. don't worry, i won't bite… much."

your eyes whispered, "have we met?"

relief washed over you, replaced by a nervous giggle. the sound, light and airy, seemed to hang in the air. kimi tilted his head, a curious look in his eyes.

"you laugh easily," he observed, not unkindly.

you shrugged shyly. "n-not really. just… a bit nervous, i guess."

he gave a short, almost inaudible chuckle. "first day jitters. understandable."

the day flew by in a flurry of activity. you found yourself working alongside kimi, explaining telemetry data with a newfound confidence. he listened intently, occasionally asking sharp questions that pushed you to think harder. to your surprise, he even cracked a few jokes – dry, finnish humor that sent shivers down your spine for reasons that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

later, as the team packed up, sebastian vettel, kimi's teammate, strolled over. a mischievous glint lit up his eyes.

i'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home

"someone seems… talkative today, kimi," he teased, nudging kimi with his elbow.

kimi shot him a withering look. "just helping the newbie settle in, seb."

"helping, or… captivated?" seb wagged his eyebrows, earning a playful shove from kimi.

heat flooded your face. were they talking about you? you pretended to be engrossed in your notes, hoping the blush wouldn't betray you.

later that week, you found yourself alone with kimi in the garage, calibrating the car. you were about to apologize for a minor error you'd made when he spoke, surprising you once again.

"you know," he said, voice low, "that laugh of yours. it's… nice." he paused, fiddling with a wrench. "makes the whole damn garage feel less sterile."

all i can say is, i was enchanted to meet you

you stared at him, speechless. a blush crept up your neck.

"i… i just laugh easily," you mumbled, kicking a stray tire iron.

"not a bad thing," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. he met your gaze and held it for a long moment, his blue eyes sending a jolt through you.

weeks turned into months. you and kimi fell into a comfortable rhythm, your laughter becoming a constant in the once-silent garage. he still had his moments of stoicism, but around you, he seemed… different. warmer.

one rainy afternoon, huddled under a shared umbrella, you found yourself confessing your feelings for him. he didn't reply immediately, just stared at you with that intense gaze. then, to your surprise, he cupped your face in his hand and pulled you into a kiss.

it was slow, hesitant at first, then deepened, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the cool rain. when he finally pulled away, a genuine smile spread across his face.

my thoughts will echo your name, until i see you again

"i thought i wanted to win races for the rest of my life," he murmured, his voice husky. "turns out, i just want to hear that laugh forever."

from then on, the ferrari garage wasn't just sterile white anymore. it was filled with the warmth of your shared laughter and the quiet hum of a love that bloomed amidst the roar of engines.

i was enchanted to meet you

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

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note! 🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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russellsppttemplates · 8 months ago

Text

I don't think you'll ever have to find out (Carlos Sainz)

The lack of contract for next season has been pushing Carlos to extremes and friends and family have noticed it

Note: english is not my first language. First Carlos big piece 🫶 I hope you enjoy reading it 😊

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions some anxiety and burnout symptoms

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Hmmmm", you hummed as you felt the mattress move a little before the warm sheets approached your body instead of the warm body that laid under them before.

"Shh, it's just me, cariño", Carlos lulled you, "go back to sleep, it's still early", he kissed your forehead softly as the tucked you in properly.

"Where are you going since it's still early then?", you wondered groggily, "I'm going for a run, I'll be back to have breakfast with you, okay? I love you", he kissed your forehead again before he grabbed his workout clothes and stepped into the ensuite.

When you woke up a few hours later, you could hear water running from the shower, assuming Carlos had got back from his run.

Opening the windows and pulling the sheets to the end of the bed so the whole room could air out, you put on your slippers and one of your boyfriend's hoodies, heading downstairs to start on breakfast. After a quick look at the meal plan left by his trainer, you retrieved the ingredients from the pantry and fridge, toasting, whisking and flipping what you needed to when you heard footsteps joining you on the kitchen.

"Good morning, beautiful", Carlos said as he hugged you from your back, his lips kissing under your ear softly before he looked at what you were making, "smells nice", he murmured before you turned your head slightly so you could kiss his cheek.

"Here you go", you smiled as you handed Carlos the plates to carry to the table while you carried your drinks.

"Gracias, my love", he smiled back as he sat down, taking a sip from his mug and starting light conversation between you two.

"I need to go to the school to get some forms from the secretariat service and some of the kids' tests I forgot to bring home", you began telling him your plans for the day, "I'll mark them when I get home, but we might have some time to spend together in the afternoon".

"I have a meeting with my engineers to analyse data and then I have a sponsor event as well, I have to go there, give an interview and hang around for a bit - I think I'm going to be home for dinner though", he explained his schedule, "but you can use the office, don't worry", he smiled, kissing the top of your head once he finished eating, taking both plates with him back to the kitchen.

"I love you, handsome, have a good day!", you said, kissing his lips once you left the house, knowing he wasn't going to be there when you arrived back from school.

The secretariat services were quicker than usual in getting you the paperwork you needed so you were able to go to your classroom next. As you were making sure everything was in place and none of the kids had left anything out during the holidays, you looked for the tests.

"Hi, Y/N! What are you doing here?", your colleague from the classroom next to yours wondered after she announced her presence with a light knock on your door.

"Hello! I could ask you the same thing, hm?", you chuckled, "I left the tests here and they're not going to mark themselves", you waved the folder in your hand.

"Carlos isn't racing this week?", she asked. You had been classroom buddies for over five years so you had gotten to know eachother pretty well and felt comfortable enough around eachother to ask such questions.

"No, he's racing next weekend though, I'm flying out to see him and then flying back in a hurry so I can teach without taking many days off", you offered.

"Sounds good then! Good luck with all of those, my little ones had some trouble with these last tests, I must say", she added.

"I haven't even looked at them properly to be honest, but I'm sure they did their best", you recalled, waving at her as she said goodbye before putting everything you needed in your bag and leaving as well.

When you arrived back home, you walked straight to the office, arranging your desk in a way that your organisation system worked: to be marked, marked, and the double checked tests, along with space for you laptop so you could insert the data straight on the platform.

The pause you had for lunch was spent on the balcony, soaking up the sun rays while you ate and allowed your mind to escape the math problems and the water cycle drawings your little ones made.

It started when you were a teenager and wanted to earn a little extra money, wanting to buy things yourself and the small independence that came with it, so you started offering help to your neighbours' kids with their homework in exchange of a small amount of money. Over the years, it got a little more serious and grew outside of your neighbourhood because you enjoyed it so much and the kids and their parents loved the work you did, and when it to came to choosing a career you'd see yourself working in happily, teaching little ones sounded perfect. Years later, it still brought a smile to your face every single day.

You were measuring the rice quantity for you and Carlos when he arrived, "cariño, are you in the kitchen?", you heard him ask once he shut the door.

"Yes, my love, just getting dinner ready", you called back, washing your hands once you were done while he stepped closer to you. Drying your hands on a kitchen towell, you left it on the counter once your boyfriend joined you in the room, "did you have a good day?", you mumbled against his lips before stealing a big kiss from him.

"It was good, did what needed to be done, and you? Are your little geniuses getting good grades this term?", he smiled, lacing his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"They did so well! I'm so proud of them, they barely had any spelling mistakes and they drew these pretty drawings on the side - I have to show you, come look!", you pulled his hand to follow you to the office, feeling his tiredness in his movements and stalling, "I can show you later - how about a cuddle in the sofa while dinner cooks?", you suggested as you noticed him nod, "sounds nice", he kissed your hand as you pulled him to the living room, letting you rest your body against his for a little bit as he told you a little more about his day.

"Sounds tiring", you mumbled, tracing random shapes on his clothed chest, "it's fine, part of the job", he shrugged as he looked at his watch, "dinner should be ready soon, no? I'll help you with the table", he kissed your forehead before you got up and sorted the meal for the two of you.

By the time you were done, cleaning up was easy and quick. Carlos suggested you retired to the bedroom early, doing your night-time routines before cuddling on the bed.

"How about a movie?", you suggested, flickering the streaming platforms to find something to watch.

"I might fall asleep in the middle of it, you won't get too mad if I do?", he smiled, kissing your cheek multiple times.

"Of course I won't be mad, love! I'd never be mad for that", you cooed, looking up at his eyes as he tried his hardest to blink the sleep away, "I'll keep the volume down and the brightness low, you sleep all you want, okay?", you checked with him, sealing your request with a kiss on his lips, "sleep well, my love".

Carlos pulled you closer to him, your scent and steady heartbeat lulling him to sleep quickly, leaving you to smile at his peaceful features when you glanced away from the screen every now and again.

"You look so gorgeous! My teacher was never this stylish!", Blanca said as she greeted you once you stepped inside her car, setting your bag on the seat next to yours and squeezing her shoulder as well as her mother's, "hello hello! Thank you for inviting me, I've been needing a wardrobe change now that the temperatures are warmer", you smiled as they squeezed your hand back before you put your seatbelt on.

"It's been a while since I've seen you, dear, how have you been?", Reyes asked you while her daughter drove off to the spot where they wanted to spend the afternoon shopping.

"The little ones have been keeping me busy, now that they're on school break, it's a little bit calmer", you replied.

"That's nice, you shouldn't run yourself to the point of exhaustion - no matter how much you love it, you should also take care of yourself! You and Carlos are very much alike on that - your work ethic is excellence", she winked through the rear view mirror.

You agreed with your boyfriend's mother. Both you and Carlos worked extremely hard to get to the point you were in now and sometimes you needed someone - often eachother - to pull you out of a overworking spiral.

When Blanca was trying on a dress, you and Reyes sat on the small sofa while you waited for her and conversation flowed easily like usual, "how has Carlos been? It's been a while since I've seen him too", she wondered.

"He's been working a lot - being without a contact prospect for next year has obviously had a big impact on him", you began, "to be completely honest, I worry he is overdoing it. It's meeting after meeting, then all the workouts he goes on - I'm happy he's healthy for it, but too much of something is never good, right?", you shared.

"I've noticed it, too - I wasn't just asking", she smirked softly, "but I wanted to confirm it with you, a mother's instinct is always worried for her children and maybe part of me was hoping I was just exaggerating".

"I've tried to make sure he feels all the support he has and just be there for him, but I think it's all him, pushing to be better and better", you expressed your worries.

"What do you think about us having dinner at your place? Not to invite myself - even though that's what it is-, but maybe he would feel better and more inclined for a yes? Last times I invited you two for dinner with us he said he had things planned and the plans fell through", she said.

"Sounds nice, don't worry about inviting yourselves in", you chuckled as she gently squeezed your shoulder, "I'm going to suggest it to him, thank you", you squeezed her hand.

"We should be the ones thanking you", Blanca said as she stepped out, leaving you to assume she heard some of the conversation, "you've been his safe place for so long and continue to do so no matter the conditions", she smiled, "you're making sure my very hard headed brother is looking after himself and being looked after - the love you have for eachother is all we could've wanted for Carlitos", she hugged you, "now do we think this looks nice as it is or is it borderline making me look like a cloud?", she looked at the piece of clothing on her body.

You were pulled out of sleep when you heard Carlos mumbled something incoherent, and turning to face him, the sweat on his forehead evidencing that he was probably having a nightmare.

"Amor, hey - wake up, amor, wake up", you shook him awake, "it's just a nightmare, you're okay, you're okay", you coaxed him as he opened his eyes, turning on his bedside lamp while you held onto his hand.

"I woke you up? I'm sorry", he apoligised, voice groggy as he tried to catch his breath and bring his heart rate back to normal.

"It's okay, amor", you smiled, kissing his cheek and brushing the hairs away that were stuck to his forehead, "do you want to talk about it?".

Did he want to talk about it? The nightmares that kept occurring and keeping him up, only until now they had only woken him up? They had been happening for about a month now. He would wake up all sweaty and his breathing erratic, and more often than not, he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so he stayed awake thinking about all the possibilities of how his employment situation would be for next year and all of the ways he could improve his performance.

"It's fine", he gulped, "let's go back to sleep, okay?", he encouraged.

You knew better than to push him at that moment, so you cuddled up to him, holding him too as you kissed his chest, "I'm right here, nothing bad is going to happen to you, I'll make sure of it", you whispered before he turned the light off, wanting to believe you so badly and to sleep without his mind running a million miles an hour.

It really was taking up a lot of his mind - as well as your and his family's worries - and how it was soon going to be too much if he didn't manage everything well, and after his mother's conversation with you, you knew you needed to do something.

"My love, can I talk to you for a second?", you asked as you walked inside the office, seeing his sat in the long sofa instead of at the desk, "sure, come here, cariño", he urged, tidying some of the papers and notebooks so you could sit.

"I'm not going to bat around the bush, this is going to be straight off the bat - me and your family are concerned you're running yourself harder than you should, and if you keep going at this rate, you're going to burnout soon", you tried, rubbing his thigh softly and encouraging him to really think about it.

He pondered his words for a bit, "I have to do all I'm doing, Y/N, if I stop, I'll fall behind - it's bad enough as it is", he argued.

"But it's not doing you any good, handsome, you're more tired, you barely spend time with your family, with me even", you argued back. You didn't want to play that card or make him feel like he was failing you, that wasn't the point, "you're not doing the things that bring you joy outside of your work, and it shows", you attempted again.

"I have to keep working, I can try and make more time for them, but I can't miss my workouts and these data analysis sessions", he reasoned, "there's so much at stake here and I can't miss any of it because I'm unprepared or unfit".

"Handsome, I never wanted you to stop all of a sudden - and I knew you wouldn't anyway, I know who I'm dating, believe it or not", you smiled, "all I'm saying is you need to protect yourself too, have a place to just be yourself and let loose for a bit", you grabbed his hand and brought it to your mouth, kissing his knuckles.

"I will try my best", Carlos stated, "I'm sorry if I've been neglecting you", he said and you shook your head.

"No worries, now come and help me because your parents are coming over for dinner!", you have him a cheeky smile, pulling him to the kitchen and away from work for the rest of the day.

"This had my mother's hand on it, didn't it?", he wondered.

"She told me she was worried, and I agreed - so I took matters into my own hands because we knew you wouldn't let your mother tell you half of what I told you", you pulled him to you, hugging him tight, "we love you so much, I love you so much - and things are going to work out for you, I know they will", you kissed his clothed chest before looking up at him, "we all want you to be happy at what you do and you're doing the best you can - the universe will do the rest, amor".

"What would I do without you?", Carlos asked, kissing your lips passionately.

"Lucky for you, I don't think you'll ever have to find out", you smiled.

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fic #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader

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37sommz · 29 days ago

Text

❁ : let it linger . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: fluff. ✼. wc: 7.3k.

the whispered promise of "just daniel" left michaela's lips at the beginning of the season. with the summer break now dawning, she has to do good on her promise.

✼. warnings: language, sexual references, a little suggestive but no smut.

✼. notes: the longest thing i've written in a while. extremely proofread so if there are any errors i will cry. don't think too hard about the dates lmao. i'm posting in chronological order and am relying on wikipedia articles to match it up with the 2021 season.

000.⠀⠀AUGUST 01, 2021 › Mogyorod, Hungary.

Michaela stood tall as she waited to be weighed, her lean body baked by the relentless Hungarian sun. Sweat beaded on her brow as she peeled off her racing helmet, revealing her blonde hair plastered to her forehead and beginning to curl from the heat. The roar of engines had faded into the distance, leaving a tense silence in its wake. This was not the performance she had hoped for—not even close. As the dust settled on the Hungaroring, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her lackluster performance at the Hungarian Grand Prix. It was the first time this season she had finished outside the points, and it stung deep.

With a sigh, she stepped away from the scale, her racing suit sticking to her damp skin. Jenson, her well-kept secret and former World Champion, was in the midst of preparing himself for the Sky Sports postrace coverage, his usual sly smile replaced by a look of concern. They shared a brief but knowing glance—there was something they needed to discuss, something they had been putting off for too long.

The press ring was a storm of activity, a blend of languages and camera flashes. Questions flew at her like jump scares, each journalist eager for a dramatic soundbite.

"Michaela, what went wrong today?"

"How do you bounce back from this?"

"Is the pressure getting to you?"

She faced the barrage of questions with a practiced poise that had seen her through countless press conferences. She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the tight confines of her McLaren fireproofs, her papaya and blue race suit tied around her waist.

"It's just one race," she replied calmly, a hint of steel in her voice. "We'll review the data, make adjustments, and come back stronger for the next one."

The questions persisted, but her mind was already racing ahead to the looming conversation with Daniel Ricciardo. As she stepped away from the interviewer’s audio recorder, she spotted him weaving through the crowd, his trademark grin plastered on his face despite his own tough race. She felt a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. Their friendship was one of the strongest in the paddock, but she knew that revealing her relationship with Jenson might change things.

"Hey, Mick," Daniel called out, using her favorite nickname. Wrapping her up into a brief hug. She laughed, the tension in her shoulders momentarily easing. "You okay after that?"

Michaela nodded, her eyes meeting Lewis' who mouthed a silent 'You okay?' over Daniel's shoulder. "Yeah, just ready to put it behind me."

"I heard you've got some big plans for the summer break," Daniel said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "You gonna spill the beans?"

Michaela's cheeks flushed as she felt the weight of her promise return to press at her shoulders. She had promised Jenson that they would tell Daniel about their relationship before the next race in Spa, but the timing had to be perfect. "Well, I might be going out to a very fancy, expensive lunch next week," she said, playing coy. "Would you be interested in joining?"

"Lunch?" Daniel raised an eyebrow. "You know I could never turn down free food." He grinned. "You're paying right?" His dark eyebrows dipped, his mischievous smile remained plastered to his face.

Michaela chuckled, "Anything for you, Ricciardo." She mentally calculated the cost of the meal she had in mind at one of the popular Monaco restaurants. "But there's a catch," she added, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Jenson might be coming too."

The teasing light in Daniel's eyes dimmed slightly, and he studied her. "Okay, what's going on here?"

Michaela feigned ignorance, her heart racing. "What do you mean?"

"You two have been acting weird around each other since the start of the season," Daniel said, his gaze sharp despite the playful tone. "If you're hiding something, I'm gonna need details."

Michaela bit her bottom lip, a nervous habit that had surfaced more frequently in recent weeks. "It's nothing, really," she assured him, her voice a tad too high. "Just... mentor shit."

Daniel raised an eyebrow, his gaze not quite letting her off the hook. "Mentor shit, huh?" He chuckled.

"The best kind of shit," Jenson quipped, walking up to them, a smirk playing on his lips. He slapped Daniel on the back, the sound echoing in the emptying press pen. "You know how these young drivers are, desperately trying to one-up the vets."

Michaela's eyes darted to Jenson, a silent plea for help. He winked at her, understanding her predicament. "It's all in good nature, Daniel. Just making sure she's on top of her game for the rest of the season."

"Is that right?" Daniel looked from Jenson to Michaela, his grin unwavering. "Well, I guess I'll just have to come to this lunch and see what kind of 'mentor shit' you two have been cooking up."

Michaela felt a mix of relief and anxiety. She had successfully diverted Daniel's suspicion—for now. She had invited him to lunch, hoping the casual setting would help ease the revelation she was about to make. But the closer the day grew, the more nervous she became. The week leading up to the lunch was a blur of training sessions, Zoom strategy meetings, and sleepless nights spent rehearsing the conversation in her head.

000.⠀⠀AUGUST 10, 2021 › Monte Carlo, Monaco.

The morning of the lunch, she and Jenson met at her Monaco flat, their eyes locked in a silent understanding. Jenson looked at her, his handsome features etched with concern. His strong hands rested on her hips as she typed hurriedly into the laptop laid out in front of her. "Ready for this?" He spoke, face pressing lazy whispered kisses to her soft skin. The early morning light brought a gentle glow to her skin.

Michaela nodded, her stomach doing somersaults. "As ready as I'll ever be."

She wore a flowy, floral dress that hugged her midsection's curves before falling mid-calf. It was rare the McLaren driver felt comfortable enough to be seen in public with anything other than her safe tops and baggy jeans. Perhaps the choice was a testament to the comfort in the sensuality she felt around Jenson.

"He'll be supportive," Jenson murmured, stealing a mint from the bowl that remained untouched during the racing season. 'Too much sugar' is what Michaela would mutter whenever he questioned their pristine appearance upon the kitchen island.

"Yeah," she replied, not entirely convinced. "But it's going to be weird. You know how he gets."

Jenson chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Weird? That's just his charm, love."

Michaela couldn't argue with that. Daniel had a way of making every situation seem a little less serious with his infectious humor and laid-back demeanor. It was one of the things she appreciated most about him, but today, she was dreading the potential awkwardness.

The three of them met at an open-air café, a stone's throw from the Monaco harbor. The scent of the sea mingled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and the faint hint of exhaust fumes from the street above. Daniel, dressed in a casual polo and board shorts, looked every bit the off-duty athlete.

They decided to show up separately, a strategic choice that Jenson suggested to ease her nerves. As Michaela approached the two friends and sat down, Daniel couldn't help but notice the ease with which Jenson pulled out her chair, the way their hands brushed, and the private smiles they exchanged. It was more than mentorship, and he felt a twinge of something that wasn't quite jealousy—more like the curiosity of a friend who had missed the plot twist of their favorite show.

"So, what's this big secret?" Daniel prodded, after they had ordered their meals. He leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

Michaela took a deep breath, her eyes darting between Daniel and Jenson. "Well, it's not so much a secret as it is..." She trailed off, searching for the right words.

Jenson took the lead, his voice calm and steady. "We've been seeing each other, Daniel. It's been going on for a bit now." His hand found Michaela's underneath the table, giving it a loving squeeze as they both released tense breaths in relief.

The silence that followed was palpable, the only sound the clinking of cutlery and the distant chatter of other patrons. Daniel's eyes grew wide, his jaw hanging slightly. He looked from one to the other, as if expecting a punchline that never came.

"Wait," he finally managed, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. "You two are together? Like, together-together?" His tattooed hands fumbled for a moment before making an obscene gesture. His left index and thumb pressed against each other as his right index repeatedly poked through the small circle.

Michaela couldn't help but laugh at his reaction, while Jenson's smirk grew into a full-blown grin. "Yes, Daniel," she said, rolling her eyes. "Together-together."

"But..." Daniel sputtered, his gaze darting back and forth. "You're old enough to be her dad," He gasped, his words a bit too loud for comfort as Michaela groaned in embarrassment. Jenson could only belly laugh at the alarm in his friend's voice.

"Arse," the Brit muttered in response, quickly flipping the Aussie off as the younger of the two threw his head back with a hearty laugh.

Michaela couldn't help but feel a blush creep up her neck. "It's not like that," she said, her voice slightly defensive. "We met as drivers, not as...you know."

"Yeah? Not as," Daniel said, his voice trailing off as he tried to process the information. "Sugar baby, sugar daddy?"

Michaela's face flushed further, but she couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from her chest. "You're such an idiot," she said, taking her turn to flip the Aussie off.

Jenson's laughter subsided, and he leaned in closer to Daniel, his expression growing serious. "Look, mate, it's not about age. It's about... well, you know, the spark."

Michaela's gaze softened as she looked at Jenson, and Daniel couldn't help but see it—the way her eyes lit up when she talked about him, the subtle blush that painted her cheeks. He felt a pang of something akin to protectiveness, but he also knew that his friends were grown adults capable of making their own decisions.

"Okay, okay," Daniel said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I get it." He took a sip of his water, the ice clinking against the glass. "But why keep it from me?"

Michaela glanced at Jenson, her eyes pleading for help. "Well, we weren't sure how everyone would take it," she admitted. "And I didn't want to distract from my season."

Jenson nodded in agreement, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of her hand. "It's a tough business," he said, his voice carrying a hint of warning. "But we felt it was time to be honest with someone. So we picked you."

Before Daniel could process Jenson’s plea, Michaela added a caveat of her own. “We’re taking our time telling everyone personally.”

When Daniel’s head cocked in a silent question that Jenson couldn’t quite catch, Michaela answered it immediately in recognition.

“Courtney’s known for a while now. I swore her to secrecy, asked that she keep it between us.”

The tension at the table began to ease as Daniel studied them. The camaraderie between them was clear, the way they interacted was familiar yet filled with a newfound intimacy. He sighed, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Fine, I won't say anything," he promised. "But you owe me details, you know."

Michaela laughed nervously, "I'm not sure that's necessary."

"Oh, it absolutely is," Daniel retorted, his grin widening. "But, in all seriousness, if you're happy, I'm happy. And you do seem... different."

Michaela felt the corners of her mouth tug upward at the observation. It was true, she had felt more relaxed since she and Jenson had started seeing each other. The weight of her performance at the Hungarian Grand Prix had been significantly lessened by his support.

"What do you mean, different?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"More... at ease, I guess," Daniel said, his gaze searching her face. "It's like you've got a secret no one else knows, and it's just making you glow."

Michaela felt her cheeks warm at his words. She had never thought of herself as someone who glowed, but with Jenson beside her, she couldn't deny the truth in Daniel's observation. She leaned into Jenson slightly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders in a comforting embrace.

"She does have a glow, doesn't she?" Jenson mused, his eyes darting over the figure of the embarrassed McLaren driver.

Michaela playfully elbowed him in the ribs, a gesture that seemed to make him chuckle more than anything. "Shut up," she murmured, her eyes not leaving Daniel's. She was eager to gauge his true feelings, to understand if their friendship would remain unchanged by this revelation.

The conversation grew more relaxed as they shared stories of their past racing experiences and the occasional teasing remark about their current situation. Daniel's curiosity was evident, his eyes flickering between them as if attempting to assess the situation, but it was a gentle, caring curiosity rather than one of judgment. The laughter that filled the air was genuine, a testament to the strength of their bond.

As the meal wound down, Daniel leaned back in his chair, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. "Alright, I can't say I'm not surprised, but I'm happy for you two." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But now, I need to know—how did this happen?"

Michaela's eyes darted to Jenson, unable to hold his gaze for long before the heat in his eyes left her feeling vulnerable. "Well, it started in Tuscany last season," she began, her voice low and measured. "And, you know, one thing led to another."

Jenson chuckled, his hand moving to rest on her thigh. The action sent a rush of butterflies in the pit of her stomach. "It's not quite that simple," Jenson said, his voice filled with warmth. "But it's definitely been an adventure."

Michaela felt a sense of relief wash over her as Daniel nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Okay, okay," he drawled, his eyes darting between them. "But you're actually, like, dating?"

Jenson's hand tightened around her thigh under the table. "Yeah, mate," he said, his voice a little rough around the edges. "We are."

Michaela felt a swell of affection for Jenson, the way he was handling this with his usual grace under pressure. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the next round of questions, hoping they wouldn't be too intrusive.

"So, when did you two officially, you know, become boyfriend and girlfriend?" Daniel asked, his tone light, but the curiosity in his voice was unmistakable.

Michaela felt a jolt of surprise. She and Jenson had never actually used those labels with each other, caught up in the whirlwind of secret meetups and stolen kisses between race weekends. She looked to Jenson, who returned her gaze with a hint of amusement. "Well," she began.

"It was a couple of weeks ago," Jenson interjected smoothly, saving her from further awkwardness. "After her win in Baku. We had a heart-to-heart after celebrating, and decided it was the right step for us."

Michaela nodded, the memory of their passionate night in Azerbaijan still vivid. She felt a thrill run through her as she heard Jenson refer to her as his girlfriend for the first time.

"So, you guys are official, huh?" Daniel said, raising his eyebrows. "Interesting."

Michaela felt a twinge of annoyance at the word "interesting"—it was always code for "I think this is fucking hilarious." But she took a deep breath and decided to just let him digest the information. "Yeah, we are," she said firmly, her voice steady despite her speeding thoughts.

"And you guys are, like, serious?" Daniel pressed, his eyes searching for any signs of doubt.

Michaela nodded firmly. "Yes, Daniel, we're serious. It's not just some fling." She tried to keep the defensiveness out of her voice, but it was clear she was more invested in this than she had let on.

"Alright, alright," Daniel held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just saying, you guys are pretty... intense together."

Michaela and Jenson exchanged a look that was a mix of amusement and affection. "We know," she said with a small laugh. "But it works for us."

Daniel leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "Well, I'm happy for you. But you know, I gotta ask," he paused, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "What's the juiciest bit of gossip you can give me? Something to take my mind off my own shit season."

Michaela shot him a glare, but Jenson chuckled. "You always know how to lighten the mood, don't you?"

"It's a gift," Daniel replied, a smug smile playing on his lips.

The waiter arrived with their food, a plate of linguine for Daniel, a Nicoise salad for Jenson, and a light risotto for Michaela. The aroma of garlic and white wine filled the air as the waiter served their meals with a flourish.

"Alright, if you want juicy," Jenson began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "We did have quite the scandal in Austria."

Michaela's eyes widened in horror, "Jenson, you can't—"

"Oh, come on, love," Jenson said, a teasing smirk playing on his lips as he picked up his fork. "It's just a bit of harmless fun. Besides, it's not like we're going to tell him everything."

Michaela shot him a look that clearly said she was not amused, but the corner of her mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. She couldn't help but be drawn in by his charm, even when he was pushing her buttons. She took a sip of her wine, feeling the cool liquid wash down her throat. "Fine," she relented. "But only if you promise not to give him too much detail."

Jenson's eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned closer to Daniel. "So, in Austria, we had a bit of a... situation," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper once again.

Michaela rolled her eyes, knowing exactly where this was heading. "You don't have to—"

"Too late," Daniel interrupted, his eyes gleaming. "Spill it, Button."

Jenson took a bite of his salad, savoring the moment. "Well, it was the night after qualifying. We had some...spirited celebrations, shall we say?"

Michaela couldn't help but laugh, remembering the wild night in question. "Spirited?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow. "That's one way to put it."

"Okay, okay," Jenson conceded, his grin unabashed. "It was a bit more than that. We had a bit too much to drink, and somehow ended up skinny dipping in the hotel’s pool."

Michaela's cheeks grew hot at the memory. She had been the one to suggest it, feeling wild and free in the moonlit water. "It was just a bit of fun," she protested, her voice a mix of embarrassment and defense.

"Oh, come on," Daniel leaned in, his eyes wide with excitement. "That's not the juicy part. What happened next?"

Michaela's eyes narrowed playfully at Jenson. "You tell it," she said, her voice a challenge.

Jenson took another bite of his salad, chewing slowly before speaking. "Well, after our little swim, we realized the security cameras had caught us in our...less than professional state."

"Oh my god," Daniel whispered, his eyes wide with excitement. "You're kidding."

Michaela couldn't help but chuckle at Daniel's reaction. "It's true," she said, her cheeks still flushed. "But we managed to bribe the hotel staff to delete the footage before it could go anywhere."

"Bribe them with what?" Daniel asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Let's just say I have my ways," Jenson responded with a wink, taking a sip of his water.

Michaela's eyes danced with amusement as she watched Daniel's jaw drop. "So, you're telling me you two have been fucking around, keeping secrets, and now you're just going to sit here and not tell me the full story?"

Jenson's laugh was rich and deep, a sound that made her heart flutter. "You know how it is, Daniel," he said, his voice a purr. "Some things are just for us." His words were accented by a heavy stroke of her thigh in his hand.

Michaela took a bite of her risotto, feeling the comfort of Jenson's body connected to hers. The conversation flowed easily, and she was surprised at how natural it felt to have Daniel in on their secret. The tension from earlier had dissipated, and Jenson and Daniel were back to their usual banter.

"So, what do we do now?" Daniel asked, his gaze flicking between them as he twirled his linguine around his fork. "Do we pretend like nothing's changed?"

Michaela swallowed a mouthful of her risotto, the creamy bite lingering on her tongue. "We don't have to pretend," she said, her voice firm. "But we do need to be careful."

"Understood," Daniel nodded, his eyes flickering between them. "But I can't lie, it's going to be weird seeing you two apart at the track."

Michaela felt a pang of anxiety. "I’ve been avoiding him like the plague whenever he’s got his Sky lanyard on," she assured him, her voice slightly defensive. "We know the stakes."

"It's not that," Daniel said, waving his fork dismissively. "It's just... you know, the paddock gossip can be a bitch."

Jenson's grip tightened on her leg, a silent reminder that they had agreed to keep their relationship low-key until she had secured her place in the team. "We'll be professional," he assured him. "It won't affect anything."

"Good," Daniel said, pointing his fork at them both. "Because I need you on the grid, Sommers. We all do."

Michaela nodded, the tension in her neck easing slightly. "You've got it."

000.⠀⠀AUGUST 23, 2021 › London, UK.

Michaela stirred in the early morning light, the soft hum of London traffic outside Jenson's flat lulling her into consciousness. Her blonde hair attempted to peak out of her silk scarf. The crisp, white pillow, drawing an intimate contrast to the brown skin of her bare shoulder. Jenson's arm was slung across her waist, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. She felt the warmth of his breath against her neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to her skin.

"Mm, it's too early," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"It's only early because we had such a late night," Jenson replied with a grin, his voice a low rumble. He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist, revealing the tanned muscles of his torso and the tattoos scattered across his skin. His blues eyes squinted in the light despite the shimmer of playfulness behind them.

Michaela groaned, her hand flying up to cover her eyes. "That wasn't entirely my fault. You're insatiable, love."

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through the room, and leaned in for another kiss. "I can't help it when you're irresistible." He hopped out of bed, his bare feet landing softly on the plush carpet. "Come on, let's go for a run. Clear our heads before we start the day."

Michaela groaned again, rolling over to bury her face in the pillow. "How about I cook you the most amazing breakfast instead?"

Jenson's grin grew wider. "Now that's an offer I can't refuse." He leaned over her, planting a firm kiss on her forehead before pulling her up and into his arms. "But only if you let me help."

Michaela's eyes lit up as Jenson lifted her bridal style. "Deal." She giggled, resting her head against his chest.

They padded into the en-suite bathroom, the scent of mint toothpaste and Michaela's favorite shower gel—a new addition to Jenson's shower caddy—filling the air. The shower washed away the lingering drowsiness of the night before, leaving them refreshed. Jenson's hands were everywhere, teasing and caressing, and despite her initial protests, she found herself responding to his playfulness. After a few more giggling reprimands, she managed to break free and stepped out of the shower first, wrapping a soft towel around her. She searched the closet for one of Jenson's shirts to wear, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the oversized garment.

In the kitchen, Jenson watched as she moved with ease, her long legs on comfortable display beneath the hem of the shirt. He leaned against the counter, sipping his coffee, enjoying the view. It wasn't often that Michaela got a chance to cook for Jenson who had a habit of pampering her endlessly during their rare moments of domestic peace. But as she hummed through her ingredient prep, she couldn't help but feel a rush of satisfaction that he had chosen to take a backseat that morning.

"What can I do?" he asked out of obligation. His eyes followed the hidden lines of her athletic curves that he had committed to memory, his tone revealing the half-hearted offer of help.

Michaela's laughter filled the room as she beckoned him over before placing a cutting board in front of him. "You can keep your hands to yourself, for starters." She pointed to the ingredients laid out on the counter. "And maybe chop the veggies for the omelet?"

Jenson feigned innocence, his eyes dancing as he took the apron. "Fine, but I expect a taste-test of everything." His knife skills were surprisingly good, a testament to his days spent preparing quick meals for Myla in the lulls of his busy schedule.

Michaela couldn't help but smile as she cracked eggs into a bowl, the sound echoing in the kitchen. "Anything for you, babe," she said, turning to face him, her own mug of coffee in hand. They worked in comfortable silence, their movements in sync despite their different tasks. The occasional pop of oil from the pan had her jumping back with a laugh, only to be caught in Jenson's arms again, the warmth of his embrace bringing her a sense of comfort she had come to crave.

As they danced around each other in the kitchen, Jenson's phone rang out, the screen displaying his mother's contact photo. "It's my mum," he murmured, his eyes flicking to the clock. "She never calls this early."

Michaela's movement paused as she observed the hesitation in Jenson's eyes, the omelet mixture momentarily forgotten. "Oh, you should answer."

He sighed, swiping the phone off the counter and hitting the decline button. "It can wait. I've got things to focus on right now." His gaze settled on her, the innuendo in his tone unmistakable.

Michaela playfully rolled her eyes, swatting his hand away as he reached for her waist. "We have breakfast to cook, remember?" She poured the egg mixture into the sizzling pan, the aroma of onions and bell peppers wafting through the room.

The phone rang again, the same name lighting up the screen. "Maybe it's important," Michaela said, turning down the heat in an effort to encourage her boyfriend to pick up his mother's call.

Jenson's eyes sighed playfully, but he knew she was right. He answered the call, keeping his voice low as not to interrupt the breakfast preparations. "Hi Mum, everything okay?"

Michaela listened to his responses as she slowly cooked their food on low heat, trying to ignore the sudden tension in his voice. He spoke quickly, nodding, his eyes flicking towards the door.

"We’re alright.”

“No, she's not here.”

“Holiday with Blair’s parents.”

“Yes, I'll tell her.”

“No, I don't need any help with... you're here?"

He turned to look at Michaela, his eyes wide with surprise and a touch of annoyance. Michaela's brown eyes widened in a similar response, mouthing 'She's here?' back to him, receiving a resigned nod in reply.

"But I thought..." He trailed off, listening. "Okay, okay, give me a sec." He ended the call and placed the phone back on the counter with a thud.

Michaela's heart was racing as she flipped the omelet before completely shutting off the stove. "Your mum's here?" she whispered, her sock-covered feet frantically carrying her to the small area Jenson had set aside for her within his closet. Her manicured hands hurriedly brushed various dresses and slinky lingerie aside, searching for a respectable piece of clothing she could throw on instead. She had met Simone only once before, and the idea of being caught in Jenson's shirt, cooking breakfast, was not the impression she had wanted to make.

"Apparently, she had it in her head that Myla was with me," Jenson replied as he appeared in the doorway of his closet, a hint of exasperation in his voice. He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek. "Don't worry, she's been eager to see you again."

Michaela's eyes darted to the door as she frantically searched for her clothes. "Again? We only met once, Jenson Alexander." The use of his full name instead of the typical nickname or term of endearment brought an amused chuckle out of him.

"Trust me, she'll love you even more after seeing you in this state." He smirked, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Michaela shot him a glare, her heart was racing with anxious nerves. She slipped into her own clothes, a pair of Nike shorts and an out-of-place McLaren t-shirt that she hoped would be acceptable for an unplanned breakfast with her boyfriend's mother. Jenson's reassurance did little to ease her anxiety as she heard the door unlock down the hall.

"Coming in," Simone's cheery voice echoed through the flat, followed by the sound of the door closing.

Michaela's heart thundered in her chest as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She stepped out of the bedroom to find Simone standing in the hallway, her eyes immediately drawn to the smell of the half-cooked breakfast.

"Oh, how lovely!" Simone exclaimed, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the planned spread. She looked between Jenson and Michaela, her expression a delightful mix of amusement and surprise.

"I didn't expect to find you both up so early," Simone said, her cheekbones rising in a knowing smile.

Michaela felt the heat of a blush creep up her neck. She knew exactly what Simone was insinuating, and she couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed. "I just wanted to cook something nice for Jenson," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

"And you've done a marvelous job, darling," Simone said, walking into the kitchen with a grace that seemed to defy the early hour. She was dressed casually yet oddly impeccably intentional. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and she wore a light-colored floor-length sundress.

Michaela felt a sudden wave of relief wash over her as she saw the affection in Simone's eyes. She had always known that Jenson's mother had a flair for the dramatic, but she had never seen this side of her before. "Thank you, Simone," she managed to say, her voice steadying. "I hope you're hungry."

Simone took a seat at the kitchen island, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "More than you know, dear," she said, her gaze flickering to the phone in Jenson's hand. "I must apologize, I truly did believe Myla was with you this morning, Jense."

Jenson shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine, Mum. She's with Blair's family on holiday."

Michaela busied herself with plating the omelets, placing a slice of toast and a dollop of chilled butter next to each one. She felt Simone's eyes on her, and she hoped she didn't look as flustered as she felt. "Would you like some breakfast?" she offered, her voice a bit too bright.

"Oh, absolutely," Simone said, her smile warm and genuine. "It smells heavenly."

Michaela felt a pulse of satisfaction as she served Simone, watching as she took a bite. The flavors of the omelet danced together, a blend of cheese, peppers, and onions that had been roasted to perfection. Simone's eyes closed in appreciation, and she nodded. "I fear I'll have to take drastic measures if Jense messes things up for you two, my dear. I might starve."

Jenson chuckled, sliding into a chair next to his mother. "Mum, you're terrible."

Michaela couldn't help but smile at Simone's antics, feeling a little more at ease. "It's okay, I've got him under control." She winked at Jenson, who rolled his eyes playfully.

"So, how did you two lovebirds spend your night?" Simone asked, sipping her coffee, her gaze knowing as it darted between them, eager for details.

Michaela felt her cheeks redden as she passed Jenson a plate, avoiding eye contact with his mother. "Just had a quiet dinner in," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray the memories of their very long night.

Jenson took the plate, his thumb brushing against her hand in a silent gesture of reassurance. "It was nice, actually. Just what we needed before everything kicks up again."

Simone nodded, her eyes softening. "Ah, yes. The second half of your season is around the corner." Her eyes were kind as she glanced up at Michaela from the food in front of her. She took another bite of her omelet, savoring it. "Myla talked about you non-stop after Silverstone, you know," she said to Michaela, her voice filled with warmth. "Such a bright girl, she is. You've made quite the impression on her."

Michaela felt her heart swell with affection for Myla and a newfound confidence. "I had a wonderful time with her. She's absolutely adorable."

"Oh, she thinks the world of you too," Simone said with a knowing smile. "And she's quite the little race fan. Can't get enough of watching her dad's endurance races, but she's been asking more about yours."

Michaela felt a rush of nerves at the mention of Myla. Despite her young age, she knew the girl's opinion would hold a significant weight in Jenson's life. She hoped she could live up to the expectations of being a good role model and a potential permanent figure in her life.

Jenson calmly echoed his mother's sentiments. "Myla's pretty smitten with you." He took a bite of his omelet, his eyes never leaving hers. "I can't seem to separate her from that signed cap you gave her." An unspoken question hung in the air—when would they tell Myla about their relationship?

Michaela's heart skipped a beat. "It's a lot for a seven-year-old to understand, isn't it?" she mused, her voice tinged with a hint of insecurity.

Simone set her fork down, her eyes warm and understanding. "It can be, but Myla's quite the bright little girl. You've got nothing to worry about."

Michaela took a sip of her coffee, the warmth spreading through her. "I just don't want to mess it up for her. She's been through enough with the divorce."

Simone's eyes grew serious. "You won't," she said firmly. "What you two have is different from the circumstances that drew Jenson and Blair together. Besides," she winked, "I've already told her that you'll be around more often."

Michaela felt her stomach flip, the unspoken implication that Simone had already accepted her as part of the family. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

"So, when do you think you'll tell her?" Simone's voice was casual, but there was an underlying curiosity that couldn't be ignored.

Michaela and Jenson shared a look, both knowing that the question had been hovering over them for a while. "We've actually been thinking about it a lot recently," Jenson said, his hand finding hers under the table. "We just want to make sure it's the right time."

"And that she's able to understand what that might mean in the future," Michaela added, her voice barely above a whisper.

Simone nodded sagely. "You know, I think she's more perceptive than either of you give her credit for. But timing is everything. Make sure it's right for all three of you."

Michaela took a deep breath, her heart pounding with both excitement and nerves. The thought of becoming a part of Jenson's family, of being a role model for Myla, filled her with a mix of joy and responsibility she hadn't anticipated.

"We will," Jenson assured her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll sit her down when she gets back, tell her we've been seeing each other, and that we're serious."

Michaela nodded, her eyes glistening with a mix of hope and trepidation. She had met Myla only two weeks ago, and while the little girl had been sweet and curious, she knew that dropping the 'girlfriend' bombshell could be overwhelming for a child of her age.

Simone, seemingly reading her thoughts, offered her own take. "Myla's a smart girl, she'll understand more than you think." She took a sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving the young couple. "But you're right to be cautious. She's still figuring out the world, and you're a new piece of the puzzle she'll need to fit in."

Michaela nodded, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on her shoulders. Jenson's hand remained a steady presence under the table, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm.

"And remember," Simone continued, her voice gentle, "It's not just about how she feels now, but how she'll feel when she's older. You both have demanding careers, and it's essential she feels loved and secure between all the travel and chaos."

Michaela nodded solemnly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. She had never felt more connected to Jenson than in that moment, knowing they were about to embark on this new chapter together. "We'll take it slow," he promised, squeezing her hand.

The conversation flowed easily after that, with Simone sharing stories about Myla's latest adventures and her own travels. As the breakfast dishes were cleared away, Jenson suggested they all sit in the living room to chat more comfortably.

Michaela felt a wave of anxiety wash over her as she took her place on the couch next to Jenson. The thought of being an official part of his life, of being a constant in Myla's life, was a concept she hadn't fully digested yet. But as she watched him interact with his mother, she realized that she had already been accepted into his world, even if it was just in small, unspoken ways.

Jenson's phone began to ring again, this time the 'Blair' contact lacked a profile picture but the name was more than enough to make him sit up. "It must be Myla with her daily check-in," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice. He took the call, his expression immediately softening as he talked to his daughter.

Michaela took the opportunity to sit next to Simone, her mind racing with thoughts of how she would fit into Myla's life. Simone, seemingly aware of her inner turmoil, placed a comforting hand on her knee. "Don't worry, darling," she said, her voice a gentle purr. "Jenson might not say it, but he's absolutely smitten with you. And you're already making him happier than I've seen him in a long, long time."

Michaela couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Hearing that from Jenson's own mother meant the world to her. She watched as Jenson chatted with Myla, his voice filled with love and warmth. It was clear that he was a devoted father, and she knew that she had big shoes to fill.

Simone leaned in closer to her. "He talks about you constantly, you know," she whispered conspiratorially. "Every time we're on the phone, he finds a way to bring you up."

Michaela felt a warm blush spread across her cheeks. "Really?"

"Oh, yes," Simone said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "He's like a teenager experiencing his first crush. It's quite adorable, actually."

Michaela couldn't help but laugh at the image, feeling a swell of affection for Jenson. She watched him as he talked to Myla, his tone light and playful. She could see the joy in his eyes, the way his face lit up at the sound of his daughter's voice. It was clear that Myla was the center of his world, and she knew that she would have to tread carefully to ensure she didn't disrupt the delicate balance of their lives.

As Jenson spoke with Myla, Simone leaned in closer, her hand still resting on Michaela's knee. "You're going to be a wonderful influence on her, you know," she said with a knowing smile. "Jenson does his best, all things considered. And Blair... well, she's trying to rebuild their relationship. But you have a clean slate, a chance to be someone Myla looks up to, someone she can confide in, and learn from."

Michaela felt the weight of Simone's words, her heart swelling with a mix of excitement and fear. "I hope so," she murmured. "I just want to be there for her."

"And you will be," Simone assured her. "Just be yourself, and she'll continue being your biggest fan. Children are more intuitive than we give them credit for. They know when someone cares for their parents and for them."

Michaela nodded, her eyes still fixed on Jenson as he chuckled at something Myla said. She couldn't imagine a future without him and Myla in it. The thought of becoming a family, even in a non-traditional sense, filled her with warmth.

Jenson wrapped up their conversation and handed the phone to Simone. "Alright, I've had my fill of cuteness for the day," he said, leaning back into the couch and wrapping an arm around Michaela. She snuggled into his side, feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

Michaela watched as Simone's face lit up as she talked to her granddaughter. It was clear the bond between them was strong, and she hoped that she could one day share that kind of closeness with Myla too.

As the conversation on the phone grew more animated, Jenson leaned in and whispered, "Myla's been asking me about when she'll get to see you again."

Michaela's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. She felt a warmth spread through her, and she knew that she was ready to take this step with Jenson, regardless of the challenges that might lie ahead.

"What did you tell her?" Michaela asked with a sparkle in her eyes.

Jenson grinned, his arm tightening around her. "That she'd see you very soon." He leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm against her skin. "I just wanted to run it by you before I told her anything concrete."

Michaela felt a knot in her stomach loosen at his consideration. She turned to look at him, her eyes searching for any sign of doubt. "You're sure?"

Jenson nodded, his eyes full of love and confidence. "More than ever."

Michaela's smile grew as she leaned into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat against her cheek. "I can't wait," she murmured, her voice filled with genuine excitement.

Simone ended her call with Myla, her eyes shining. "Looks like things are going well with Blair’s parents," she said, handing the phone back to Jenson.

"Better than expected," he admitted, slipping the phone into his pocket. "But we've still got a way to go before everyone's happy."

Michaela nodded, understanding the complexities of co-parenting. She had overheard the occasional tension between Jenson and Blair, but she had always remained respectful of their history. Simone patted her hand. "You're going to be a fantastic addition to our little family," she said warmly.

Jenson looked over at her with a soft smile, his eyes speaking volumes. "We're all going to be just fine," he said, and Michaela believed him.

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datavalleyai · 1 year ago

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30 Java Full Stack Developer interview questions for Freshers

Are you an aspiring programmer seeking to start a professional journey as a Java Full Stack Developer? As you venture into the realm of web and software development, it is essential to equip yourself with the necessary skills and knowledge to effectively tackle the forthcoming challenges. Getting your first job as a Full Stack Developer is a big achievement, and to assist you, we have created a list of 30 Java Full Stack Developer interview questions specifically designed for beginners.

1. What is Java Full Stack Development?

Java Full Stack Development refers to the development of web applications using both front-end and back-end technologies, with Java as the primary programming language.

2. Explain the difference between front-end and back-end development.

Front-end development focuses on the user interface and client-side functionality, while back-end development deals with server-side logic and database interactions.

3. What are the key components of a typical web application stack?

A typical web application stack consists of a front-end framework (e.g., React, Angular), a back-end server (e.g., Spring Boot), and a database (e.g., MySQL).

4. What is Java Virtual Machine (JVM) and why is it important in Java development?

JVM is an essential part of Java that interprets Java bytecode and allows cross-platform compatibility. It plays a crucial role in running Java applications.

5. What is a servlet, and how does it relate to Java web development?

A servlet is a Java class used to extend the capabilities of servers and provide dynamic content. It is commonly used in Java web development to handle HTTP requests and responses.

6. Explain the Model-View-Controller (MVC) architectural pattern.

MVC is an architectural pattern that separates an application into three interconnected components: Model (data), View (user interface), and Controller (handles user input and updates the model and view).

7. What is Spring Framework, and how does it simplify Java development?

Spring is a popular Java framework that simplifies Java development by providing features like dependency injection, AOP, and MVC for building scalable and maintainable applications.

8. Describe RESTful web services and their importance in Java development.

RESTful web services are a way to build lightweight and scalable APIs using HTTP methods. They are essential for building modern web applications in Java.

9. What is Hibernate, and how does it relate to database interaction in Java?

Hibernate is an ORM (Object-Relational Mapping) framework that simplifies database interaction in Java by mapping Java objects to database tables.

10. Explain the concept of dependency injection in Spring.

Dependency injection is a design pattern used in Spring to manage component dependencies. It allows for loosely coupled and easily testable code by injecting dependencies rather than creating them.

11. What is a singleton pattern, and why is it relevant in Java development?

The singleton pattern ensures that a class has only one instance and provides a global point of access to that instance. It’s used to manage resources like database connections efficiently.

12. What is the difference between GET and POST HTTP methods?

GET is used for retrieving data from the server, while POST is used for sending data to the server for processing or storage.

13. What is SQL injection, and how can it be prevented in Java applications?

SQL injection is a security vulnerability where malicious SQL code is injected into user inputs. To prevent it, use parameterized queries and input validation.

14. Explain the purpose of a web container in Java EE applications.

A web container is responsible for managing the lifecycle of servlets and JSP pages in Java EE applications. (e.g., Tomcat)

15. What is a session in web applications, and how is it managed in Java?

A session is a mechanism to maintain user-specific data across multiple HTTP requests. In Java, sessions can be managed using cookies or URL rewriting.

16. What is the difference between forward and sendRedirect in servlets?

forward is used to forward the request and response objects to another resource within the same server, while sendRedirect sends a response with a new URL, causing a new request.

17. Explain the purpose of the @RequestMapping annotation in Spring MVC.

@RequestMapping is used to map a URL request to a specific controller method in Spring MVC, allowing for proper routing of requests.

18. What is a RESTful API endpoint, and how is it structured?

A RESTful API endpoint is a URL pattern that represents a resource and its actions. It typically follows a structured format, such as /resource/{id}.

19. What is CORS, and why is it important in web development?

CORS (Cross-Origin Resource Sharing) is a security feature that allows or restricts web pages in one domain from making requests to a different domain. It’s essential for security in web development.

20. What is the purpose of the web.xml file in Java web applications?

The web.xml file is a configuration file in Java web applications that defines servlets, filters, and their mappings, among other things.

21. Explain the concept of microservices and their advantages.

Microservices is an architectural style where an application is composed of small, independently deployable services. Advantages include scalability, maintainability, and flexibility.

22. What is Docker, and how does it facilitate deployment in Java development?

Docker is a containerization platform that allows developers to package applications and their dependencies into containers for consistent and efficient deployment.

23. What is the purpose of a version control system like Git in software development?

Git is used for tracking changes in code, collaborating with others, and maintaining a history of code revisions, which is essential for code management and collaboration.

24. How does Maven help in managing project dependencies in Java?

Maven is a build automation tool that simplifies the process of managing project dependencies, building projects, and producing artifacts.

25. What is the purpose of JUnit in Java development, and how is it used for testing?

JUnit is a testing framework used for writing and executing unit tests in Java. It ensures that individual components of the code function correctly.

26. Explain the concept of continuous integration (CI) and continuous delivery (CD).

CI involves regularly merging code changes into a shared repository, while CD automates the process of deploying code changes to production, ensuring a streamlined development workflow.

27. What is the Spring Boot framework, and how does it simplify Java application development?

Spring Boot is a framework that simplifies the setup and configuration of Spring applications, allowing developers to quickly build production-ready applications with minimal effort.

28. What are the key principles of the SOLID design principles in Java development?

SOLID is an acronym representing five design principles: Single Responsibility, Open/Closed, Liskov Substitution, Interface Segregation, and Dependency Inversion. These principles promote clean and maintainable code.

29. What is the purpose of the @Autowired annotation in Spring?

@Autowired is used for automatic dependency injection in Spring, allowing Spring to automatically resolve and inject dependencies into a class.

30. How can you secure a Java web application against common security threats?

Secure a Java web application by implementing proper authentication, authorization, input validation, using encryption, and regularly updating dependencies to patch vulnerabilities.

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milfstalin · 2 months ago

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When I met Stalin, I did not find him enigmatic. I found him the easiest person to talk to I ever met. He is far and away the best committee chairman of my experience. He can bring everybody’s views out and combine them in the minimum of time. His method of running committees reminded me somewhat of Jane Addams of Hull House or Lillian D. Wald of Henry Street Settlement. They had the same kind of democratically efficient technique, but they used more high pressure than Stalin did.

If Stalin has been inaccessible to foreigners—there were exceptions even to this—that does not mean that he lived in isolation, in a sort of Kremlin ivory tower. There were close to 200,000,000 people keeping him busy. He was seeing a lot of them. Not always necessarily the party leaders. A milkmaid who had broken the milking record, a scientist who had broken the atom, an aviator who flew to America, a coal miner who invented a new labor process, a workman with a housing difficulty, an engineer balked by new conditions—any person representing either a signal achievement or a typical problem might be invited by Stalin to talk it over. That was the way he got his data and kept in touch with the movement of the country.

[...]

My first impression of him was vaguely disappointing. A stocky figure in a simple suit of khaki color, direct, unassuming, whose first concern was to know whether I understood Russian sufficiently to take part in discussion. Not very imposing for so great a man, I thought. Then we sat down rather casually, and Stalin was not even at the head of the table; Voroshilov was. Stalin took a place where he could see all our faces and started the talk by a pointed question to the man against whom I had complained. After that Stalin seemed to become a sort of background, against which other people’s comments went on. The brilliant wit of Kaganovich, the cheerful chuckle of Voroshilov, the characteristics of the lesser people called to consult, all suddenly stood out. I began to understand them all and like them; I even began to understand the editor against whom I had complained. Suddenly I myself was talking and getting my facts out faster and more clearly than I ever did in my life. People seemed to agree with me. Everything got to the point very fast and smoothly, with Stalin saying less than anyone.

Afterward in thinking it over I realized how Stalin’s genius for listening helped each of us express ourselves and understand the others. I recalled his trick of repeating a word of mine either with questioning intonation or a slight emphasis, which suddenly made me feel I had either not quite seen the point or perhaps had overstated it, and so drove me to make it plainer. I recalled how he had done this to others also. Then I understood that his listening has been a dynamic force.

This listening habit dates back to the early days of his revolutionary career. “I remember him very well from the early days of our Party,” said a veteran Bolshevik to me. “A quiet youth who sat at the edge of the committee, saying almost nothing, but listening very much. Toward the end he would make a few comments, sometimes merely as questions. Gradually we came to see that he always summed up best our joint thinking.” The description will be recognized by anyone who ever met Stalin. In any group he is usually last to express his opinion. He does not want to block the full expression of others, as he might easily do by speaking first. Besides this, he is always learning by listening.

“He listens even to the way the grass grows,” said a Soviet citizen to me.

On the data thus gathered, Stalin forms conclusions, not “alone in the night,” which Emil Ludwig said was Mussolini’s way, but in conference and discussion. Even in interviews, he seldom receives the interviewer alone; Molotov, Voroshilov, or Kaganovich are likely to be about. Probably he does not even grant an interview without discussing it first with his closest comrades. This is a habit he formed very early. In the days of the underground revolutionary movement, he grew accustomed to close teamwork with comrades who held each other’s lives in their hands. In order to survive, they must learn to agree quickly and unanimously, to feel each other’s instincts, to guess even at a distance each other’s brains. It was in such a group that he gained his Party name—it is not the one that he was born with—“the Steel One, Stalin.”

[...]

Stalin brings certain important qualities to these joint decisions. People who meet him are first of all impressed by his directness and simplicity, his swift approach. Next they notice his clearness and objectivity in handling questions. He completely lacks Hitler’s emotional hysteria and Mussolini’s cocky self-assertion; he does not thrust himself into the picture. Gradually one becomes aware of his keen analysis, his colossal knowledge, his grip of world politics, his willingness to face facts, and especially his long view, which fits the problem into history, judging not only its immediate factors, but its past and future too.

Stalin’s rise to power came rather slowly. The rise of his type is slow and sure. It began far back with his study of human history and especially the history of revolutions. President Roosevelt commented to me with surprise on Stalin’s knowledge of the Cromwellian Revolution in Britain as shown in his talk with H. G. Wells. But Stalin quite naturally studied both the British and the American historical revolutions far more intimately than British and American politicians do. Tsarist Russia was due for a revolution. Stalin intended to be in it and help give it form. He made himself a thorough scientist on the process of history from the Marxian viewpoint: how the masses of people live, how their industrial technique and social forms develop, how social classes arise and struggle, how they succeed. Stalin analyzed and compared all past revolutions. He wrote many books about them. But he is not only a scientist; he also acts.

In the early days of the Revolution, Stalin’s name was hardly known outside the Party. In 1923, during Lenin’s last illness, I was told by men whose judgment I trusted that Stalin was “our coming man.” They based this on his keen knowledge of political forces and his close attention to political organization as secretary of the Communist Party. They also based it on his accurate timing of swift action and said that thus far in the Revolution he hid not once guessed wrong. They said that he was the man to whom “responsible Party men” turned for the clearest statement of what they all thought., In those days Trotsky sneered at Stalin as the “most average man” in the Party. In a sense it was true. Stalin keeps close to the “average man”; the “average man” is the material of politics. But Stalin does it with a genius that is very far from average.

“The art of leadership,” said Stalin once, “is a serious matter. One must not lag behind the movement, because to do so is to become isolated from the masses. But one must not rush ahead, for this is to lose contact with the masses.” He was telling his comrades how to become leaders; he was also expressing his own ideal, which he has very effectively practiced.

[...]

Glimpses of Stalin’s personal relations come chiefly through his contacts with picturesque figures who have helped make Soviet history. Valery Chkalov, the brilliant aviator who made the first flight across the North Pole from Moscow to America, told of an afternoon that he spent at Stalin’s summer home from four o’clock till after midnight. Stalin sang many Volga songs, put on gramophone records for the younger people to dance, and generally behaved like a normal human being relaxing in the heart of his family. He said he had learned the songs in his Siberian exile when there wasn’t much to do but sing.

The three women aviators who broke all world records for women by their spectacular flight from Moscow to the Far East were later entertained at an evening party at the Kremlin in their honor. One of them, Raskova, related afterwards how Stalin had joked with them about the prehistoric days of the matriarchate when women ruled human society. He said that in the early days of human development women had created agriculture as a basis for society and progress, while men “only hunted and went to war.” After a reference to the long subsequent centuries of woman’s slavery, Stalin added, “Now these three women come to avenge the heavy centuries of woman’s suppression.”

[...]

“Comrades! Citizens!” he said, as he has said often. Then he added, “Brothers and Sisters!” It was the first time Stalin ever used in public those close family words. To everyone who heard them, those words meant that the situation was very serious, that they must now face the ultimate test together and that they must all be closer and dearer to each other than they had ever been before. It meant that Stalin wanted to put a supporting arm across their shoulders, giving them strength for the task they had to do. This task was nothing less than to accept in their own bodies the shock of the most hellish assault of history, to withstand it, to break it, and by breaking it save the world. They knew they had to do it, and Stalin knew they would.

Stalin made perfectly plain that the danger was grave, that the German armies had taken most of the Baltic states, that the struggle would be very costly, and that the issues were between “freedom or slavery, life or death to the Soviet State.” He told them: “The enemy is cruel and implacable. He is out to seize our lands, watered with our sweat . . . to convert our peoples into the slaves of German princes and barons.” He called upon the “daring initiative and intelligence that are inherent in our people,” which he himself for more than twenty years had helped to create. He outlined in some detail the bitter path they should follow, each in his own region, and said that they would find allies among the freedom-loving peoples of the world. Then he summoned them “forward—to victory.”

Erskine Caldwell, reporting that dawn from Moscow, said that tremendous crowds stood in the city squares listening to the loud speakers, “holding their breath in such profound silence that one could hear every inflection of Stalin’s voice.” Twice during the speech, even the sound of water being poured into a glass could be heard as Stalin stopped to drink. For several minutes after Stalin had finished the silence continued. Then a motherly-looking woman said, “He works so hard, I wonder when he finds time to sleep. I am worried about his health.”

That was the way that Stalin took the Soviet people into the test of war.

#stalin #anna louis strong #ussr #writing #journalism #article

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