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leah-lover · 10 months ago

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Two hearts, one timeline. Alexia putellas x reader

An age gap romance. Part 2

“ We are delighted to introduce you to this young star. She is a 2 time world cup champion, the youngest ever to achieve that. A 2 time NWSL winner. A final’s MVP and just overall an inspiration. Welcome to the show.” said the reporter next to you. The studio was quiet and all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears. This wasn't the first time you were on TV but you were uncertain about the way the news you were about to deliver is gonna be perceived.

“ Thank you for having me.” you respond with a smile on your face.

“ After your recent NWSL win you were the talk of the sports world. Everybody is interested in whether you are gonna resign with your club or not. What do you say to those questions?”

“ Well I am sad to say that I will not resign with Seattle but very excited to say that a team I have been dreaming of joining has reached out to sign me. I have signed a 4 year contract with FC barcelona.”

“ Oh my god, that's exciting. Tell us how you feel at the moment.”

“ Well, I am very excited,but sad to say goodbye to my family in the states and at seattle. I think this challenge is gonna help me develop as a footballer and learn new styles.”

“ Well, we wish you good luck.”

“ Thank you.”

You exit the studio and the weight of the secret drops from your shoulder. You were gonna leave your home for a more competitive team and a shot at the chapion’s league.

Your move to Barcelona was smooth. You celebrated your run at your old club with the girls, took your flight the next day and landed in sunny Barcelona, the weather was as great as they all said. You then went directly to your new apartment. The time zone change weighed heavily on your body so you took a shower immediately, put your sheets in your new bed and laid down as soon as you could. You then opened your phone only for it to freeze due tha new messages and followers you received. You could see all the comments and messages your new teammates wrote on your post congratulating you on the signing and wishing well for you. This made you excited for your first day tomorrow.

When you woke up the next day you were nervous to say the least. You got ready, called a taxi and headed to the facility. You first got a tour of the facility which was empty because it was early. You met as much staff as you could, did your fitness and health test, a photoshoot, and shot some content. By the time you were done your teammates were done training too. You were ushered by the assistant coach to go to the field and meet everybody.

Your heart was beating like a drum. You were standing next to alexia putellas, aitana bonmati, lucy bronze, and mapi leon. Those people are more experienced and have more accolades than you.

“ Everybody please welcome our new signing from the US.” said your coach which caused all of them to start cheering.

“Hola a todos. Estoy emocionado de ser parte de este equipo, compartir el campo con todos ustedes y ganar algunos trofeos con ustedes.”

“Joder, hablas español y tus estadísticas son buenas, nos llevaremos muy bien.“ said patri putting her arm on your shoulder and guiding you inside.

“Si ella hablara catalán habríamos sido mejores amigas.” said aitana sarcastically.

The rest of the day went on great, you had lunch with the girls, you laughed with them, and exchanged stories. They welcomed you very well.

“ for a young girl you really carry yourself well.” said lucy

“ I had to grow up quickly.” you respond to her.

Your first month at Barcelona was amazing. You got on with the girls really well, training was going well, you had your first start within 2 weeks of your arrival and the fans were really happy with you after your first hattrick in the last match.

“Necesitamos celebrar tu primer mes exitoso con nosotros estrella.” said mapi while you were recovering in the gym. Estrella was the Spanish translation of the nickname the fans gave you when you were getting famous, which was stargirl. That nickname was used by everybody you knew, even the press. But from them it sounded different.

“ Yeah sure, just text me the details.” You responded.

You then went home, showered, and rested. You then got a message from the group chat.“ La terrazza. 8:00.”

Since they went there to celebrate you, you decided to show up and show out. You decided on a black maxi dress, heels, gold accessories, and a red lip.

You drove to the club and got there at 8 sharp. You went inside, and headed straight to the bar to order a drink. The girls started coming little by little, and by a few hours you were all jammed up dancing in the middle of the dance floor. However, your captain didn't join you; she instead opted to watch from the bar.

Alexia has been quiet and reserved around you. Maybe she didn't like you or maybe she was just a quiet person, you never really thought about it before.

“chicas voy a ir al baño.” You yell so that you can be heard over the loud music and exit the dance floor.

Surprisingly the bathroom was empty. You got your business done and went over to the mirror to fix your makeup.

“Parece que te lo estás pasando bien aquí en Barcelona..” said a voice from behind you which took you a minute to realize it was Alexia 's.

“ Capitana I am too drunk for Spanish right now.” You respond still facing the mirror

“ You look good. I mean happy in Barcelona.” She said nervously.

“ Well that's because of you and your friends out there. Actually it was more your friends than you since you hate me.” You respond l, alcohol making you braver than you usually are.

“ I could never hate you. I just can't control myself around you.” She says half whispering. “tengo que ir.” She added before she exited the bathroom.

“ This is definitely something I need to visit tomorrow when I am sober.” You say to yourself before joining the girls again. You were told that Alexia left which caused you to have more questions but you didn't give it much thought. You partied more with the girls before leaving.

Your head was pounding the next morning but you couldn't remember anything, only that you had a great time.

The following weeks were nothing short of spectacular. You were training well, winning every game, scoring every game, and you really built a community with the girls. But Alexia was giving you more space than usual which you couldn't understand why.

Jonathan could see that Alexia was cornering herself away from you so he decided to pair you with each other on everything under the excuse of her giving you more experience since she was older than you. She didn't talk when she was near you, she barely even touched you. This caused commotion in your brain. You lost sleep over why she despised you so much.

One day you had enough of the questions in your brain so you waited in the locker room knowing that she wouldn't come to it to avoid you. You stayed there af-ter all the girls left. After a while alexia entered the locker room

“ Have I ever done anything to offend you?” you ask as soon as you see her figure.

“ Mierda, me asustaste, pensé que no había nadie aquí.” she said taking a few steps back

“ capitana please just give a straight answer. What have I ever done to you?.”

“ We talked about this and my answer was nothing, the problem is in me.”

“ when did we talk about this i don't remember anything.”

“ that night at the party now will you please leave so that i can change and go home i am really tired.”

“ Alexia, this is eating away at me. All I want is for us to be friends or just teammates. Tell me what I did so that we can get past it.”

“ You did nothing, just get over it. You have plenty of friends.”

“No puc fer això ara mateix, és massa jove i hauria de proteger-la de mi” she whispers in catalan and leave without looking at you.

You didn't understand catalan but it was close to Spanish which you were fluent in so when you heard her words you could remember them easily. After she left you reached for your phone and translated her words. “ I can't do this right now. He is too young and should protect her from me.”

Alexia’s words shocked you. You felt dizzy and couldn't focus. You never realized that alexia could have anything for you except hate. You loved her and admired her for the player and person she is. You looked up to her kind heart and intelligent brain. But no matter what you thought about it you needed her approval, her attention, and her focus to be on you as much as you were on her. That's why her distance from you left you puzzled.

You knew that you couldn't stay like that, not when your brain was filled with questions that needed answering.

You left the training facility, and headed straight to Alexia's house.

Before knocking on her door your knees were weak and your brain was quiet. She opened the door mere moments later.

“ What did you mean by protecting me from you?” you asked as soon as she opened the door.

“ What are you doing here?” she asked.

“ What did you mean, alexia?”

“ i don't want to talk about this.”

“ well i do it's the only thing i have been thinking about.”

You force your way inside and she closes the door after you

“ You are not this passive aggressive. I know you. I heard alot about you. This thing you are hiding from me is killing me.” you say to her once she is in front of you.

“ Believe me when I say that I am protecting you.”

“ it's not your choice capitana. What are you protecting me from?”

“ I am protecting you from my feelings for you god damn it. We can't be together and that is all I have been thinking about. I have been thinking about you, your body, your laughter, your eyes. It’s driving me insane.” she yells as she slams the wall behind you.

You weren't shocked, you managed to keep your calm. You held onto her hand which was still on the wall. You backed up a little bit and didn't say a word.

“ this can't happen, you are 23, i am 30. I am older than you. I outrank you in the team. I just…”

“ i dont care.” you interrupt her still holding on to her arm. “ capitana i dont give a fuck. I want you. I need you. Do you want me?” you add.

“More than you'll ever know.” she whispers.

The air was still. The tension was high. You feel your body unintentionally move towards alexia. Your face was millimeters away from her you could feel her breath on your lips. You somehow got brave enough to kiss her. The kiss cut short because she pulled away.

“ please capitana i want this. I want you.”

She then kisses you deeply. Her need for you was apparent. She took control of all of you, not just your lips. She picked you up and walked towards her bedroom all while kissing you. She then threw you on her bed.

“ Are you sure estrella.” whispers

“ I never wanted anything more in this world.”

#woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community #woso x reader #alexia putellas fic #alexia putellas imagine #alexia x reader #alexia putellas #woso appreciation #woso request

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julietsf1 · 1 month ago

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A Technical Mistake - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: peaceful paddock mornings of stocking caps and shirts are flipped upside down when Franco Colapinto, a charming stranger she assumes is part of the AV crew, comes into her store and gives her weekend an unexpected turn. (7k words)

content: big misunderstanding; cute Franco; reader is a normal working girl

AN: I am such a sucker for stories with a little cinderella vibe! I was thinking of buying the blue Williams jacket on track in Brazil but it was so spenny! send me ur sugar daddies pls!

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The paddock was eerily quiet, an almost sacred calm before the storm of engines roaring, fans screaming, and journalists scrambling for the latest drama. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rubber—a smell I’d grown oddly fond of over the years.

This was my favorite time of the weekend. Before the rush, before the chaos of customers demanding sizes and colors we didn’t have, I could take a moment to breathe, to organize the merchandise store in peace.

“Me bajé del avión, voy corriendo para verte…” I sang softly, shimmying a little as I balanced a stack of Williams caps. The sound of Duki was the perfect soundtrack to my morning. The melody took over, and before I knew it, I was halfway moonwalking back to the Ferrari section, twirling a hanger between my fingers like I was starring in some kind of musical.

The song’s beat was about to drop when a voice cut through my impromptu performance.

“¿Y siempre bailás así mientras laburás, o es solo un show privado?” (Do you always dance like this while working, or is it just a private show?)

I froze mid-step, almost dropping the caps in my hands. Whipping around, my heart racing, I found myself face-to-face with a guy leaning against the doorframe. He had this ridiculous grin plastered across his face, his green eyes sparkling with amusement.

“¡Ah!” I yelped, clutching my chest. “Perdón, I didn’t—uh… ¿qué?” (Sorry, I didn’t—uh… what?)

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. “Te pregunté si siempre bailás así mientras laburás.” (I asked if you always dance like that while working.)

Heat crept up my neck, and I scrambled to pull myself together. “Oh, uh… sí. Quiero decir, no. Bueno, depende…” (Yes. I mean, no. Well, it depends…)

His grin widened. “No pensé que alguien en el paddock también escuchara a Duki. ¿Sabías que el último álbum es una obra maestra? La forma en que mezcla el trap con el reguetón es una locura—” (! I didn’t think anyone in the paddock listened to Duki too. Did you know his latest album is a masterpiece? The way he mixes trap with reggaeton is insane—)

“Eh, pará,” (Wait, hold up,), I interrupted, holding up a hand, feeling my brain short-circuit as I tried to keep up with his rapid Spanish. “Hablo un poco español… pero no muy bien.” (I speak a little spanish… but not very well.)

That gave him half a second of pause before he broke into laughter. “¿No muy bien? Pero me contestaste perfecto.” (Not very well? But you answered me perfectly.) His tone was teasing, but there was no malice—just genuine warmth. “Igual, perdón. A veces hablo mucho. Es que me emocioné.” (Sorry. Sometimes I talk too much. I just got excited.)

I blinked, thrown off by his sudden shift to sincerity. “No, no, está bien. Me gusta Duki también.” (No, no, it’s okay. I like Duki too.)

“¡Ah, viste!” (Ah, see!), he said, throwing his hands up in delight. “¿Cuál es tu canción favorita? Mirá, ‘Goteo’ siempre me pone de buen humor, pero ‘She Don’t Give a Fo’ es un clásico. Y si me decís que ‘Chico Estrella’ no te gusta, no sé si podemos ser amigos.” (What’s your favorite song? Look, ‘Goteo’ always puts me in a good mood, but ‘She Don’t Give a Fo’ is a classic. And if you tell me you don’t like ‘Chico Estrella,’ I don’t know if we can be friends.)

I stared at him, trying to decipher his rapid enthusiasm. I caught about half of what he said, but his energy was infectious. “Uh… ‘Chico Estrella’ es muy buena,” (‘Chico Estrella’ is very good,), I ventured cautiously, hoping I wasn’t completely misinterpreting him.

His hand went to his chest like I’d just said something profound. “Sabía que eras de las mías. Esto es destino.” (I knew you were one of mine. This is destiny.)

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “¿Siempre hablás tanto con gente que no conocés?” (Do you always talk this much to people you don’t know?)

“Solo con la gente que escucha buena música,” (Only with people who listen to good music,), he replied smoothly, then added with a wink, “Soy Franco, por cierto. Mucho gusto.” (I’m Franco, by the way. Nice to meet you.)

“Oh, eh… Y/N,” I said, shaking his outstretched hand briefly. “Mucho gusto.” (Nice to meet you.)

“Y/N,” he repeated, like he was savoring the sound of it. “Bueno, ¿qué estás haciendo? ¿Preparando todo para el gran finde?” (So, what are you doing? Getting everything ready for the big weekend?)

“Sí.” I nodded, switching back to English because I knew I was about to run out of Spanish confidence. “I’m setting up the store. It’s… not super exciting.”

“¡Claro que sí!” (Of course it is!) he replied, not missing a beat. “Look at this—hats, shirts, models of cars. Very exciting.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Right. And what about you?”

“I’m here for the soundcheck,” he replied with a grin.

“Soundcheck?” I frowned. “Oh, like for the AV stuff?”

“Exactly.” His lips twitched, like he was holding back a laugh. “The audio visual stuff. Very technical, very important. You know how it is.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “So why are you hanging out here instead of being ‘very technical’?”

“Because,” he said, his grin widening, “I heard someone singing Duki and thought, wow.”

“Oh my God.” I groaned, turning back to my work. “I wasn’t singing.”

“You were definitely singing.”

“And I wasn’t dancing,” I added quickly.

“Sure,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “That little move you did with your feet? Totally not dancing.”

“Okay, fine!” I laughed, throwing my hands up. “I was dancing. But you’re not supposed to be here yet, so technically, you shouldn’t have seen it.”

“Technically, I shouldn’t be here at all,” he said with a shrug, “but aren’t you glad I am?”

“No, actually,” I deadpanned, though my grin gave me away.

Franco laughed, glancing at the pile of caps balanced precariously on the counter. “You’re doing heavy lifting, huh? Don’t knock over anything else.”

“That was an accident!” I protested. “The shelves are wobbly.”

“Right. The shelves are wobbly,” he nodded sagely. “Not because you panicked when someone caught you salsa dancing.”

I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Oh my God, just go do your soundcheck!”

“Okay, okay, I’m going. But seriously, next time I’m back, I expect a full choreography.”

Peeking through my fingers, I saw him give me a playful wave before stepping out. For a moment, I just stood there, trying—and failing—to fight the smile creeping onto my face.

…

The paddock was already alive with early risers: engineers carrying coffee cups larger than their heads, journalists muttering into their phones, and the occasional VIP wandering too close to restricted areas before being politely redirected. I tightened my jacket against the crisp morning air, balancing a tray of new Williams caps as I unlocked the shop.

Friday had been a whirlwind of chaos—overwhelming, exhausting, but honestly kind of fun. The memory of my unexpected visitor lingered, his laughter and that unmistakable grin replaying in my mind. Franco. I didn’t know why he stuck out so much.

I hummed as I worked, letting my playlist fill the silence of the shop. I was halfway through adjusting a tower of Ferrari shirts when his voice rang out again.

“Bizarrap now? Y/N where have you been all this time”

I jumped, narrowly avoiding knocking over the display. “Oh my God, you really need to stop sneaking up on me!”

Franco leaned casually against the doorframe, thermos in hand, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s not my fault you’re always in the middle of a dance routine when I show up.”

“Maybe if you showed up at a normal time, I wouldn’t be,” I shot back, though I couldn’t hide my grin.

“Nah, that’d be boring,” he said with a shrug, stepping inside like he belonged there. “And anyway, I was just passing by. Thought I’d check if my favorite shop manager was still here.”

“You mean the shop manager,” I corrected, setting the shirts down. “Unless you’re making house calls for all the merch shops on track now.”

Franco chuckled, unscrewing the lid of his thermos. “Only the best ones.”

My eyes flicked to the thermos, curiosity piqued. “Is that… for maté?”

“Yeah!” His face lit up like I’d just asked if he wanted to talk about his favorite thing in the world. “Do you know it?”

“I’ve heard of it,” I admitted. “Isn’t it like… tea?”

“Like tea?” He clutched his chest in mock offense. “You’re killing me. It’s more than tea. It’s life itself. It’s tradition. It’s community. It’s—”

“Okay, okay!” I laughed, holding up my hands. “So it is better than tea, I assume?”

Franco grinned, pulling out the gourd and bombilla. “I’m about to change your life. Want to try?”

“Sure,” I said, hesitating only briefly before taking the gourd he offered. I sipped cautiously, my expression shifting from surprise to delight. “Oh! This is actually really good.”

“See!” Franco said, looking far too pleased with himself. “I knew I liked you.”

“Right,” I said with a laugh. “Glad to have passed the test.”

“So, how was yesterday? Did the paddock treat you well?”

I groaned, leaning against the counter. “If you consider someone asking if I had Ferrari shirts in passionfruit purple treating me well, then sure.”

Franco choked on his sip, coughing through his laughter. “Passionfruit purple? What does that even mean?”

“I have no idea!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up. “I tried to tell him we only have red, black, and white, and he told me that wasn’t his problem and I should go find some elsewhere.”

“Classic paddock VIP,” Franco said, shaking his head. “What else?”

“Oh, then there was this woman who wanted me to bedazzle her Red Bull polo. While she waited.”

“She expected you to add rhinestones? To a team shirt?” Franco asked, looking genuinely dumbfounded.

“That’s exactly what she thought,” I said, laughed. “When I said we can’t do that, she asked if I at least had Swarovski crystals on hand for her to do it herself, because she wasn’t going to her after party without extra sparkle.”

Franco joined in, leaning against the counter and shaking his head. “I don’t know how you put up with this.”

“And what about you?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Any exciting AV work today?”

Franco paused, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “You could say that. It’s a little more... hands-on today, you know?”

“Right,” I said, nodding as if I understood. “Lots of wires and soundboards, I bet. Very technical.”

“What can I say?” Franco replied, his grin widening. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Clearly.” I gestured to the thermos. “Like carrying around fancy tea and converting clueless shop managers into maté fans.”

“Fancy tea again? Y/N, you’re killing me,” he said, clutching his chest.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Alright, alright. I’ll respect the maté. But only because it’s actually pretty good.”

“Good answer,” he said, giving me a wink.

For a moment, we just stood there, the comfortable silence punctuated by the distant hum of the paddock coming to life.

“You know,” Franco said finally, glancing at his watch, “I should probably get going. Qualifying’s not going to prepare itself.”

“Oh, right. Your very important AV duties,” I said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Exactly.” He lingered for a second longer before turning toward the door. “Don’t let anyone ask you for passionfruit purple hats today.”

“No promises,” I called after him.

As the door swung shut behind him, I found myself smiling again. There was something about Franco—something easy and infectious—that made my day feel a little lighter.

…

In the evening the paddock got quiet, the hum of activity winding down as the sun dipped below the horizon. Most of the crowd had dispersed, leaving behind the faint sounds of tools clinking in garages and muted laughter from hospitality suites above.

I finished wiping down the counter, my eyes scanning the shelves for anything out of place. There was still inventory to complete, but for now, the stillness felt like a small victory.

I was halfway through adjusting a rack of shirts when a voice broke the silence.

“You haven’t closed the shop yet?”

I turned, heart skipping a beat, to see Franco leaning against the doorframe. His hoodie and cap cast his face in partial shadow, but his green eyes were unmistakable, glinting with mischief.

“You again?” I said, a laugh bubbling up despite my surprise. “What is this, your evening shift?”

“Exactly,” he said, stepping inside like he owned the place. “Someone’s gotta make sure everything’s in order.”

“Right,” I replied, crossing my arms. “Because you’re clearly the expert on retail management.”

Franco grinned, brushing past me to inspect the hats on display. “You’re doing a great job, by the way. Everything looks very... symmetrical.”

“Thanks for the expert feedback,” I said, laughing. “Shouldn’t you be doing something important right now? Like, I don’t know, AV things?”

“Done for the day,” he said, casually flipping a hat onto its stand. “And anyway, I couldn’t just walk by without saying hi.”

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed, though the warmth creeping into my cheeks betrayed me.

Franco leaned against the counter, his gaze sweeping over my setup. “So, how’s it going? Any more requests for glitter shirts?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” I said, laughing. “Someone asked if I had a distressed Mercedes hoodie for them. ‘Rick Owens’ vibe was what they said, I believe.”

Franco snorted, shaking his head. “And what did you say?”

“I told them I didn’t think team-approved merch came pre-ripped,” I replied. “They asked if I had scissors.”

He laughed, the sound warm and easy. “You’re a stronger person than me. I’d have handed them the scissors and said, ‘Go for it.’”

“Don’t tempt me,” I said, grinning.

As we talked, the tension of the day melted away, replaced by the effortless rhythm of our banter. He had this way of making me feel at ease, even when I was convinced he was only here to tease me.

Eventually, I glanced at the clock. “Alright, I need to lock up.”

“Let me help,” Franco offered, already moving to grab a stray box of caps.

“You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he said, flashing me a playful grin. “What kind of company would I be if I didn’t pitch in?”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue, watching as he stacked the box neatly against the wall.

“Thanks,” I said as I double-checked the locks.

“No problem,” he replied, leaning casually against the door. “So... do you ever get to enjoy the race, or are you always stuck in here?”

I shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I can hear the cars and feel the atmosphere, which is cool, but I’m usually too busy to watch.”

He raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Wanna change that?”

“What?”

“Come with me,” he said, gesturing toward the staircase. “The garage should still be open.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “The garage? I don’t think I’m allowed over there. Are you even allowed there?”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said, his grin widening. “You’re with me. No one’s going to stop us.”

“Franco…”

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “Live a little.”

After a moment’s hesitation, I sighed and followed him, my heart racing as we crossed the paddock.

The Williams garage was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling paddock outside. The bright fluorescent lights highlighted every polished surface, and the sleek car sat in the middle of the space like a centerpiece in a gallery. It felt strangely intimate, with no engineers or team members left. I hesitated just outside the entrance, my nerves catching up with me now that we were here.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, clutching my bag tightly. “It’s... empty.”

“That’s the best part,” Franco replied, his grin widening as he gestured for me to follow him inside. “No one to stop us.”

I paused, glancing around the pristine space. “I don’t know... This feels like trespassing.”

“It’s not trespassing if I’m the one who brought you,” he said, walking backward as if to coax me forward. “Come on. Live a little.”

I sighed but couldn’t fight back my smile as I followed him in, my sneakers squeaking faintly against the shiny floor. The atmosphere was surreal, and the closer we got to the car, the more my awe grew. I’d seen Formula 1 cars on TV, in pictures, even on the paddock screens—but standing next to one was an entirely different experience.

Franco smirked, gesturing toward the car. “Look here,” he said, crouching slightly to point out the edge of the floorboard. “See how the side pods curve in? That’s for cooling. Air flows through there to keep the engine temperature stable. Without it, you’re toast by lap ten.”

I leaned closer, my brow furrowing as I followed his line of sight. “So... it’s like a high-tech air conditioner for the car?”

“Exactly,” he said, his grin widening. “Though we call it aero. Sounds cooler, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure. Very fancy.”

Franco stood and walked toward the rear wing, beckoning me to follow. “And this—this is where all the magic happens.”

I trailed after him, folding my arms as he gestured to the intricate structure of the wing. “Let me guess. It’s, uh, what keeps the car from flying off the track?”

“Close,” Franco said, clearly enjoying my attempt. “It’s all about downforce. The rear wing pushes the car into the track so we can go faster through corners. Too little, and you’re skidding all over the place. Too much, and you’re slower on the straights. It’s a balancing act.”

My eyes flicked to the faintly scuffed surface of the wing. “Is that why it looks so... fragile? Like one bump and it’ll fall apart?”

Franco chuckled. “It’s tougher than it looks. But yeah, you don’t want to crash into someone—or something. The engineers would cry.”

I laughed, picturing an entire team of engineers in despair over a dented wing. “So, you actually know what all this stuff does?”

“Of course,” Franco said, his tone almost offended but playful.

“I mean, for an AV guy, you’re awfully... knowledgeable,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

He paused, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Let’s just say I pay attention.”

“This is insane,” I whispered, taking in all the intricate details of the car again. “It’s... beautiful.”

Franco chuckled. “That’s one way to describe it. Most people just say, ‘Fast.’”

“Well, it’s that too,” I said, shooting him a look. “But seriously... It’s like art.”

“Art that goes over 300 kilometers per hour,” he said, his grin softening. “Wanna sit in it?”

I froze, turning to him with wide eyes. “What? No. I can’t do that.”

“Of course you can,” Franco said, already moving toward the cockpit. “Come on, it’s not going to bite.”

I hesitated, glancing between him and the car. There was something in his expression—playful, but also genuinely encouraging—that made me relent. “Fine. But if anyone finds out, I’m blaming you.”

“Deal,” he said, helping me climb in.

The cockpit was snug—far tighter than I’d expected—and I felt awkward as I tried to maneuver my legs into position. Once I was settled, I placed my hands on the steering wheel cautiously, my heart racing.

“This feels... surreal,” I said, staring at the wheel.

“You look like a pro already,” Franco said, crouching beside the car with his phone in hand.

“Don’t you dare,” I warned, catching the gleam in his eyes.

“Too late,” he said, snapping a picture before I could protest.

“Franco!”

“What?” he said innocently, holding up the photo for me to see. “Look, it’s a good angle. Very Instagram-worthy.”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help laughing. “I look ridiculous.”

“You look cool,” he corrected, saving the photo. “But don’t worry—I’ll send it to you. For your mom, obviously.”

I laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Oh yeah, because my mom’s dying to see me breaking rules in the paddock.”

“She’ll be proud,” Franco said, standing up. “Here, try this.”

He handed me a helmet, which I reluctantly placed on my head. It was far too big, wobbling precariously as I adjusted the strap.

“Okay, this is worse,” I said, my voice muffled by the helmet. “I look like a bobblehead.”

Franco burst out laughing, doubling over as he tried to steady himself. “You’re not wrong, but it’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes.

“Definitely,” he said, snapping another picture before I could stop him.

“You’re actually the worst, you know that?” I said, reaching to swat the phone from his hand, but he dodged easily.

“Admit it,” he teased, slipping the phone into his pocket. “You’re having fun.”

I paused, the weight of the helmet making me grin. “Maybe a little.”

“Good,” Franco said, setting the phone down. “That’s the point.”

As we wandered back toward the front of the garage, I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder at the car one last time. It felt like I’d just stepped into another universe, one far removed from the chaos of my usual day.

“Thanks for this,” I said quietly. “It was... unexpected. In a good way.”

“Anytime,” Franco said, his smile genuine. “Next time, we’ll take it for a spin.”

I snorted. “Yeah, no thanks. I like having a license.”

…

My phone buzzed in my pocket as we reached the door to the paddock’s outer corridor. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen: my colleague’s name lighting up in bold letters.

“Oh shoot,” I said, answering quickly. “Hey, yeah, sorry! I’m on my way now.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently as I finished the call.

“Forgot I’m carpooling,” I explained as I tucked my phone away. “I’m supposed to meet my colleague Alicia in the parking lot, like... five minutes ago.”

“Lucky for you, I know the way,” Franco said with a grin. “Come on. I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, even as I fell into step beside him.

“I insist,” he said, slipping his hands into his hoodie pockets. “It’s dangerous out there. You might get mobbed by someone asking for sapphire-blue polos again.”

I laughed. “Good point. Better bring backup.”

We walked together through the quiet paddock, the sounds of the race weekend fading into the background. Franco’s pace was unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world, and I found myself relaxing despite the mild panic of running late.

“So,” Franco said after a beat, “what’s the plan? Dinner, sleep, and back to the chaos tomorrow?”

“Pretty much,” I replied. “I’ll probably be dreaming about misplaced hats and impossible customer requests.”

“Sounds thrilling,” he teased, glancing over at me.

“Oh, it’s a dream come true,” I joked.

When we reached the parking lot, I slowed, turning toward him. “Thanks for walking me. You didn’t have to, but... it was nice.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said easily, his grin softening. “Oh, before you go—what’s your Instagram?”

“My Instagram?” I repeated, blinking.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling out his phone. “I’ll send you the pictures. Besides, it’s a nice excuse to text you later.”

His tone was casual, but the glint in his eyes gave away the playful intent.

“Smooth,” I said, smiling as I typed my handle into his phone.

“What can I say?” he replied, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I’ve got my moments.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I turned to leave. But before I’d even made it to Alicia’s car, my phone buzzed again.

I glanced down at the screen, expecting a message, but instead, I saw a follow request. Franco Colapinto.

Curious, I tapped on his profile—and froze.

There it was, plain as day: Williams Racing Driver.

My jaw dropped. I turned back toward him, still standing where we’d parted, a smirk playing on his lips as he caught me staring.

“You’re a driver?” I asked, loud enough for him to hear across the lot.

He sauntered closer, his grin widening. “Didn’t I mention that?”

“No!” I said, my cheeks warming. “You let me think you were just—”

“Just what?” he asked, his voice full of teasing amusement. “The AV guy?”

“Yes!”

Franco laughed, the sound warm and easy. “I never said that. You just assumed. I wasn’t about to ruin the fun.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped, caught off guard by the way he was looking at me—not smug, but something softer.

“You’re enjoying yourself way too much right now.”

“Can you blame me?” he said, his grin widening.

I felt my cheeks warm and quickly looked away, fiddling with a stray cap on the counter. “Well, excuse me for not keeping tabs on every random person who shows up in the paddock.”

“Random?” he gasped dramatically, leaning closer. “You wound me, Y/N.”

I tried to suppress a smile, focusing hard on arranging the caps. “You know what I mean.”

Franco’s teasing softened, and his voice lowered just enough to make my pulse quicken. “Don’t worry. I get it. I joined mid-season—no merch, no big fuss. Kind of nice, actually.”

I shook my head, biting back a smile as Alicia honked the car horn, impatient. I glanced over my shoulder, then back at Franco.

“Well, good luck tomorrow, driver,” I said, emphasizing the word with a playful grin.

“Thanks,” he said, stepping closer, his tone dipping into something more deliberate. “And if I score points, you’ll come celebrate, right?”

I tilted my head, pretending to consider it. “I don’t know... What kind of celebration are we talking about?”

“The fun kind,” he said, his green eyes glinting. “Drinks, music... Maybe even some dancing, if you’re up for it.”

My cheeks warmed again, but this time I didn’t shy away. “Alright. If you score points, I’m in.”

“Good,” he said, stepping back with a wink. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I turned and headed to Alicia’s car, my heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the hurried pace. As I slid into the passenger seat, my phone buzzed again—a message from Franco.

You’re going to have fun tomorrow. Trust me. ;)

I couldn’t help but smile as I replied: You better deliver, Colapinto.

…

Franco had just wrapped up his post-race interviews, a mix of exhilaration and exhaustion coursing through him. Eighth place—points for Williams. It wasn’t a podium, but it felt like a win. The team’s hospitality suite loomed just ahead, buzzing with the chatter of staff, sponsors, and VIP guests waiting to congratulate him.

The Williams event manager was already gesturing for him to join the group. “Franco, let’s keep moving. You’re late for the team celebration.”

But Franco barely slowed his stride. His gaze flicked across the paddock and landed on the merchandise store. His grin widened.

“Give me a minute,” he said, waving her off.

“Franco—” she started, exasperated, but he was already heading toward the shop.

…

I was busy ringing up yet another Charles Leclerc cap when I felt the store’s energy shift. A hush swept over the customers, quickly replaced by murmurs.

“Is that...?” one whispered loudly.

“Oh my God, it’s Franco Colapinto!” another exclaimed.

I glanced up, my heart skipping a beat as Franco strolled in, still wearing his race suit, unzipped to reveal the Williams-branded undershirt beneath. His hair was slightly tousled, and he had that unmistakable post-race glow—the combination of effort and adrenaline that made him look annoyingly good. His green eyes scanned the shop before locking onto me.

He ignored the sudden buzz of whispers and phones being whipped out, walking straight to the counter with that easy confidence.

“Well?” he said, leaning on the counter with a grin.

“Well, what?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady even as my heart raced.

“I delivered,” he said casually, though the pride in his voice was unmistakable.

“Congratulations,” I said warmly, matching his grin despite myself. “Eighth place, right?”

“That’s right.” He leaned closer, his grin softening into something a little more intimate. “And now I’m here to confirm our deal.”

“Our deal?” I asked, feigning ignorance just to tease him.

Franco let out a mock groan, shaking his head. “Don’t play coy. You promised to celebrate if I scored points.”

“Did I?” I asked, my eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to send a flutter through my chest. “Don’t make me beg.”

Behind him, a small group of customers was watching the interaction with barely-contained excitement. One braver fan held up a notebook. “Franco! Can you sign this?”

Without even looking back, Franco waved a hand in polite dismissal. “Not now, amigo.”

Another fan piped up, “Are you actually in here to buy something?”

Franco turned his head slightly, smirking. “Nah, just confirming plans. Way more important.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing as the customers exchanged incredulous looks. Turning my attention back to him, I tilted my head. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep my word. What’s the plan?”

“I’ll send you the details later,” Franco said, standing up straight. His voice softened, a teasing glint in his eyes. “No backing out. You owe me one for carrying all those hats yesterday.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied, my cheeks warming under his gaze.

“Good,” Franco said, stepping back with a wink.

Just as he turned to leave, the sharply-dressed Williams event manager appeared in the doorway, clipboard clutched tightly. “Franco! There you are. Hospitality, now. You’re already late.”

“On my way,” he said, before glancing back at me one last time. “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

“See you,” I replied, my voice light but sincere.

With one final wink, he spun on his heel and strode out of the store, leaving a trail of astonished fans and a flustered me in his wake. As the door swung shut behind him, I caught sight of him being hurried across the paddock by the event manager, his confident stride unshaken.

…

The rooftop lounge was bathed in golden light, the glittering city skyline providing a stunning backdrop. The hum of conversation, the clink of champagne glasses, and bursts of laughter filled the air, creating the perfect atmosphere for celebration. Franco had done it—points for Williams, a solid achievement for the team and a personal milestone for him.

I hesitated as I stepped onto the terrace, smoothing down my black dress. The outfit wasn’t anything too fancy, but it felt a world apart from my usual paddock uniform. My nerves buzzed, not because of the party but because of who had insisted I come.

I spotted Franco near the balcony, his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, a drink in hand as he nodded politely at something a sponsor was saying. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes flicked over the crowd with purpose. When his gaze landed on me, his grin spread instantly, bright and unmistakably boyish.

“Excuse me,” he said abruptly to the group around him, his voice cutting through their chatter. Without waiting for their response, he made his way toward me, weaving through the crowd with ease.

“You made it,” he said, stopping in front of me, his green eyes scanning me like he was committing every detail to memory.

“I did,” I replied, my voice light. “And you’re not exactly hard to find.”

“I try to be memorable,” he teased, though his grin softened into something warmer. He took a step back, his gaze lingering. “You look... wow.”

“Wow?” I raised an eyebrow, though my cheeks warmed under his scrutiny.

“Yeah, wow,” he said earnestly, as if the word itself wasn’t enough. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Is that your way of saying I usually look terrible?” I joked, tilting my head.

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I mean—no. You always look great, but this is... different. Amazing.”

My cheeks flushed even more, and I let out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“I clean up when I have to,” he replied, his grin widening.

We stood near the edge of the terrace, the noise of the party fading into the background. Franco didn’t seem to notice the occasional glances or murmurs from other guests. His focus was entirely on me, his posture relaxed yet intent.

“So, what’s the verdict on this party?” I asked, gesturing slightly to the scene around us.

“Not bad,” he said with a shrug. “But it just got better.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’re too much.”

Before he could reply, someone called his name from across the terrace. Franco turned briefly, offering a polite wave, but his attention snapped back to me almost instantly.

“Busy man,” I teased, my eyes sparkling.

“Not tonight,” he replied firmly.

But the interruptions kept coming. A Williams team member approached with a clipboard, another guest hovered nearby with a congratulatory drink in hand, and a photographer gestured for Franco to join a group photo. Each time, he handled it quickly, his attention darting back to me as soon as he could.

“Sorry,” he said after the third interruption, shaking his head. “That’s the last one. I swear.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, my tone teasing but understanding.

“Not really,” he admitted, his grin sheepish. “But I’d rather be here with you.”

My chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone, but before I could respond, another call of his name rang out. Franco sighed, glancing briefly toward the source.

“Want a drink?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost intimate amidst the bustling terrace.

“Sure,” I said, nodding.

Franco led me to the bar, keeping close as we moved through the crowd. He ordered for both of us without hesitation, handing me a glass of sparkling water when I mentioned I wasn’t drinking.

“To today,” he said, raising his glass.

“To eighth place,” I replied, clinking mine lightly against his.

“And to making this the best part of the night,” he added, his grin softening as he looked at me over the rim of his glass.

As we lingered by the bar, the interruptions became harder to ignore. A sponsor insisted on pulling Franco into another photo, while a team member gestured impatiently for him to join a group near the balcony. He handled each one politely but quickly, his focus always returning to me.

“You know,” I said after a particularly persistent interruption, “you’re kind of in demand tonight.”

“Let them wait,” he replied, his voice steady.

“They don’t seem like the waiting type,” I teased.

“Too bad,” he said, his grin unwavering. “I’ve got better company.”

My heart skipped at the conviction in his tone, but before I could respond, yet another call of his name rang out. This time, Franco sighed audibly, shaking his head.

“I think that’s my cue,” he said, glancing back at me. “To suggest we sneak out.”

“Sneak out of your own party?” I repeated, my brow lifting slightly.

“Yeah,” he said, his grin returning. “Somewhere quieter. Just us.”

I hesitated, glancing around the bustling terrace. “Won’t people notice?”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I don’t really care.”

The quiet certainty in his voice made me smile. “Alright. Let’s go.”

…

Franco led me toward a side exit at the edge of the terrace, his hand lightly brushing my back as we weaved through the thinning crowd. The rooftop celebrations carried on without a hitch, the laughter and clinking of glasses fading into the background as we slipped through the door.

“This way,” he said, holding the door open for me with a mischievous grin.

I stepped into a narrow stairwell, the dim emergency lights casting soft shadows on the walls. “We’re really doing this?”

“Of course,” Franco said, closing the door behind us. “What’s a celebration without a little adventure?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “This feels so dramatic. What, no rooftop helicopter getaway?”

“Next time,” he quipped, his grin widening as he started down the stairs.

The faint creak of the metal staircase echoed with each step, the quiet amplifying the flutter in my chest. By the time we reached the fire escape at ground level, the cool night air rushed in, refreshing and grounding.

“This is... a little ridiculous,” I said, glancing around at the empty alleyway we’d stepped into.

“Ridiculously fun,” Franco corrected, offering me his hand to help me down the last step.

I rolled my eyes but took it, his grip warm and steady. “Alright, what now?”

“Trust me,” he said, his green eyes glinting in the dim light. “I know the perfect spot.”

…

The city streets were quieter than I’d expected, the buzz of the race weekend giving way to a more subdued hum of nightlife. Franco walked beside me, his hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried.

“Any preferences?” he asked, tilting his head toward me.

I shrugged, smiling. “Surprise me.”

He led me down a narrow side street, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the cobblestones. We stopped in front of a small, cozy shop with large windows and shelves of colorful bottles displayed inside.

“This place,” Franco said, nodding toward the door. “Best snacks and drinks you’ll find this late.”

The warm scent of freshly fried food greeted us as we stepped inside. Franco approached the counter like a man on a mission, ordering two plates of dumplings and two bottles of Ramune without hesitation.

I watched as he expertly popped the marble stopper on one of the sodas, the sound crisp and satisfying. He handed it to me with a grin. “Here. Best part of the whole drink.”

“You make it sound like magic,” I said, laughing as I took the bottle.

“It kind of is,” he replied, popping the second bottle for himself.

We carried our food and drinks outside, settling on a low wall just across the street. The city lights sparkled in the distance, the occasional hum of a passing car filling the quiet.

I picked up a dumpling, steam curling from its surface. “You really know how to celebrate, huh?”

“Hey, who needs champagne when you’ve got gyoza and Ramune?” Franco said, holding up his bottle in a mock toast.

I laughed, clinking my bottle lightly against his. “Cheers to that.”

The quiet of the street wrapped around us, a comforting hum of distant city life providing a soft backdrop as we lingered outside the noodle shop. Our conversation had slowed, dipping into a comfortable silence as we finished our meal. Franco turned his soda bottle in his hand, the faint clink of the marble stopper breaking the stillness.

He glanced at me, his gaze lingering a little too long. When I met his eyes, there was something unspoken there—warmth, maybe, or a kind of vulnerability that caught me off guard.

“What?” I asked softly, tilting my head.

“Nothing,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. But then he hesitated, his fingers tightening around the bottle before he set it down beside him. “Actually... not nothing.”

My brow furrowed slightly as I waited, the weight of his pause pulling my attention fully to him.

“You ever feel like...” He trailed off, letting out a soft laugh, almost like he was laughing at himself. “Like you’re doing something incredible, something people would kill to do, but... it still feels like something’s missing?”

His words hit me with unexpected bluntness, the rawness in his tone making my chest tighten. I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I do. It’s like... you’re proud of it, but it’s not the whole picture. It’s not everything.”

“Exactly,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “Don’t get me wrong, I love driving. It’s my dream, always has been. But...” He exhaled, his eyes dropping briefly before flicking back to mine. “It can be... lonely sometimes. You’re surrounded by people, always moving, but you don’t really get to... connect. Not like this.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the quiet sincerity in his words. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, his gaze steady on mine. “This. Talking to someone who isn’t asking about lap times or tire strategy. Someone who actually listens. It’s... rare.”

My chest tightened at his words, and I shifted slightly, my fingers toying with the edge of my sleeve. “It’s not just you,” I admitted, my voice quiet but steady. “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. Like you’re doing something amazing, but... it’s still missing something.”

I hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the soda bottle in my hand. “I love working in F1. I really do. But... I miss my friends back home sometimes. Even though my colleagues are nice, it’s not the same. It’s hard to meet people you really connect with when you’re constantly on the move.”

Franco tilted his head slightly, his gaze softening. “Yeah. That’s it exactly.”

“I guess I never really expected to meet someone here...” I paused, searching for the right words. “...who it suddenly feels so easy with.”

He didn’t look away, his expression steady as if he understood exactly what I meant. “I get it,” he said softly. “More than you know.”

The air between us felt heavier now, thick with unspoken understanding. I met his eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. There was something grounding in the way he looked at me, like he wasn’t just hearing me but seeing me completely.

…

When we reached the hotel, I slowed to a stop, turning to face Franco just outside the entrance. He mirrored me, his hands slipping from his pockets as he stood a little closer than before.

“Well,” I said, tilting my head slightly, “this is me.”

“So it is,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips.

There was a beat of silence, the soft hum of the city filling the space between us. He looked at me, his green eyes studying my face like he was memorizing every detail.

“I wish I didn’t have to say goodnight,” he said quietly, his voice dropping to something softer, almost vulnerable.

My breath caught, the simplicity of his words hitting me harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to respond, but the look in his eyes—the way his usual teasing warmth had melted into something so unguarded—rendered me speechless.

“I mean it,” he continued, his lips twitching into a small, self-deprecating smile. “This... tonight... I don’t want it to end.”

My chest tightened, a warmth spreading through me that I couldn’t quite name. “Franco...”

“I know,” he said, cutting me off gently. His grin softened as he glanced down for a moment before meeting my gaze again. “It’s just... it’s been a while since I felt this way. Since someone made me feel this way.”

His words hung in the air between us, heavy and unfiltered. My cheeks flushed, my heart pounding as the distance between us suddenly felt too much. I took a small step closer, my voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to say goodnight just yet.”

The tension in the air thickened, the playful energy we’d carried through the evening now replaced by something deeper, heavier, and undeniable. Franco’s hand lifted slowly, his fingers brushing against my cheek as though he was afraid to break the moment. His touch was light, tentative, but the warmth of it sent a shiver down my spine.

He closed the remaining distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was soft at first, careful, like he was savoring a moment he didn’t want to rush. The hesitation melted away almost instantly, replaced by something warmer, deeper.

His hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer as his other hand rested lightly on my waist. The kiss deepened, unhurried but intense, a perfect balance of passion and tenderness. I could feel his heartbeat beneath my palms as my hands rested against his chest.

Franco tilted his head slightly, his lips moving against mine with a certainty that made my knees feel unsteady. Every movement felt deliberate, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every emotion he couldn’t quite articulate, into the kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, the world felt quieter, as though the night had paused just for us.

Franco’s thumb brushed against my cheek as he studied my face, his green eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name but didn’t need to.

“See you at the next race?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with hope and certainty all at once.

“For sure,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper but steady.

His lips curved into a slow, almost disbelieving smile, his hand lingering on my waist for a moment longer before he stepped back.

As I turned and stepped inside the hotel, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down, my cheeks still warm. A message from Franco lit up my screen:

You’ve completely ruined me, you know that? Best night ever.

I smiled to myself, my heart still racing as the elevator doors closed.

…

I groggily blinked awake, the sunlight peeking through the hotel curtains. My head felt heavy, and for a moment, I debated rolling over and falling right back asleep. But then my phone buzzed on the nightstand, the faint vibration pulling me from the haze of sleep. I reached over, squinting at the screen as I unlocked it.

Three missed calls. A text from Alicia, my colleague, stood out at the top of the notifications.

Why the hell are you on Franco Colapinto’s Instagram story eating dumplings with him on the pavement???

I frowned, propping myself up slightly against the headboard. What?

My thumb hovered over the message before tapping it, and an attached screenshot filled the screen. I blinked at it, then blinked again, sitting up straighter.

There it was, in all its glory: a grainy yet oddly endearing photo of Franco and me, still dressed from last night, sitting on the street outside the noodle shop. Plates of gyoza were scattered between us, the remnants of our late-night feast. My laughter was frozen mid-moment, one hand holding one of the little snacks while the other gestured animatedly. Franco was grinning at me, his green eyes glinting under the dim streetlights.

The caption read: Late-night dining, five stars.

I groaned, half in disbelief, half in embarrassment, as I clicked out of the screenshot and into Instagram itself. Sure enough, Franco’s story was still live. I stared at it for a moment, heat rising to my cheeks, before my phone buzzed again.

Another text from Alicia.

Is this what you do when you “stay late to lock up”? GIRL. DETAILS. NOW.

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as I set the phone down. The embarrassment I’d expected to feel never fully settled in. Instead, a warmth bloomed in my chest, the memory of last night—the dumplings, the laughter, the kiss—playing back in my mind.

I sat back against the pillows, staring at the sunlight filtering through the curtains. My phone buzzed again, but this time it wasn’t a notification or a frantic message from Alicia. It was Franco.

Hope you’re not mad about the dumpling photo. Just wanted to remember the best night I’ve had in a while.

I smiled, the warmth in my chest spreading as I typed out a reply.

Not mad. But you owe me breakfast for making me Instagram famous.

The three dots appeared almost instantly.

Deal. I’ll pick you up in 30.

I laughed softly, setting my phone down on the bedside table. Outside, the city was waking up, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was rushing to keep up with it. Instead, I let myself sink into the quiet, a lingering sense of joy wrapping around me like a blanket.

#f1 x reader #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #f1 fanfic #franco colapinto oneshot #franco colapinto x you

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millieisawriter · 3 months ago

Text

By the fire

javier escuella x reader

summary: one calm evening you find javier — the newest addition to the gang — sitting alone by the campfire. despite the language barrier still being there, the man finds a way to charm you

wc: 1k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this was requested!♡

a/n: the song is made up cus i couldn't find any existing song that fit, it's actually a poem i once wrote about a girl i had a crush on lmao this is happening sometime shortly after javier has joined the gang because i thought it'd be cute if y'all didn't know each other's language lol if you know spanish my bad just pretend you don't i guess, but i'd love to write latina reader sometime too

The gang has put up their camp somewhere in the state of Colorado. The day had been tiring, as it always is when you're moving, and everyone must have been wishing for the moment they can finally go to sleep. It didn't surprise you when before midnight everyone had already retreated to their tents or wherever they slept.

Everyone, except for one person. Your eyes caught a glimpse of a silhouette sitting by the scouting fire, away from the center of the camp. The night was dark, but judging by the guitar resting in his lap, you assumed it was Javier.

"You good?" You approached, sitting down next to him. Thankfully, you didn't have to sit on the bare ground, because Pearson had made those rugs of goat skin.

Javier looked up at you, his fingers momentarily stopping their movement on the strings. "Sí, sí, just... muy tired, you know?"

"Me too," you replied, leaning back and stretching your legs out, "me too..."

Javier made so much progress these past few months he's been running with the gang. The day Dutch had brought him into the camp, you wondered how did they even manage to communicate, maybe Dutch did speak some Spanish after all.

"And how are you..." you tried to search for a simple word, but none came easily, "adjusting? Adjusting as... how do you holding up, living with us?"

"Is good, más good than life on my own. Alone is no good. Here with you all I have food, place to sleep. And gente who care, I think."

"Of course we care," you smiled at him, "honestly, I can't imagine the gang without you and your music now."

His lips twitched with a playful smile. "I keep playing then?"

"Yes, please, I'd love to hear more."

"What you want to hear, querida?"

You paused, considering his question. Truth be told, you just loved to hear him play. It didn't matter what the song was about. Most of the time, you didn't even know since he sang in Spanish, so you would catch a few words at most.

So you gave him the choice. "You choose."

Javier's grin widened, and his eyes glistened with a brilliant idea. He adjusted the guitar in his lap, strumming a few notes before looking back at you.

"You know, in Mexico when a man has something to say... something from... el corazón," he placed a hand over his chest, "he sings."

"And what do you have to say, Javier?" You asked, feeling warmth cover you both from the fire, and from this tingling, warm feeling inside your chest.

But instead of answering your question, Javier started playing the guitar. Soft notes of the instrument filled your ears again, and you subconciously smiled wider, even allowing yourself to close your eyes for a moment.

And then, when you thought it can't get any better, Javier started singing. "¿Cómo puedo empezar a decir lo que siento, si mi corazón se detiene al escuchar tu nombre?"

[How can I start to say what I feel, if my heart stops when I hear your name?]

The melody was light, but you could feel he's singing about something that held big significance to him.

He continued, "Quiero perderme en las estrellas de tus ojos, y contigo no quiero esperar al amanecer."

[I want to get lost in the stars of your eyes, and with you I don't want to wait for the sunrise.]

You didn't understand every word, most of them you didn't understand, but the emotion behind them was overwhelming. Javier's words, whatever they meant, reached right into your chest, gently eveloping your heart.

"Dejemos que la luna nos muestre el camino, no hay prisa, solo el latido de nuestros corazones. Contigo, no necesito respuestas, porque tú eres la verdad que siempre he buscado."

[Let the moon show us the way, there is no hurry, only the beat of our hearts. With you, I don’t need answers, because you are the truth I have always looked for.]

The last note faded away, the night became quiet once again, and you opened your eyes, looking at Javier.

"What you think?" He asked.

You struggled to find words that could match the beauty of what he had just shared. "Javier, I..." you shook your head, smiling, "I think that, even if I didn't understand it, I felt it. In my el corazón."

Javier chuckled at your attempt at Spanish, "Maybe next time I teach you the meaning."

You smiled. "I'd like that."

For a while, neither of you said anything more. The quiet night wrapped around the two of you as Javier continued playing some notes on the guitar but none of them hitting you as hard as the song he sang just for you.

"By the way," he decided to speak again, "you don't add el after my. Is just mi corazón."

"Ah, I butchered it." You laughed with embarrassment, even though you knew he didn't correct you to be mean.

He found it very endearing. "No, no, is just... if you want to learn, you learn correct, sí?"

"Fine, fine," you took a deep breath, exaggerating your effort, "mi corazón." You nailed the pronounciation almost perfectly.

"Muy bien," he said, giving an approving nod, "now try gracias, Javier, tú eres el mejor."

You let out a fake groan of annoyance, having an idea what this phrase could mean. "Really?"

"What?" He raised his hands up in a mock innocence. "Is good practice!"

You rolled your eyes playfully but obliged. "Gracias, Javier. Tú eres el mejor."

"Perfecto! See? You learn fast." He applauded you for the effort, clearly very amused.

You sat there with Javier a little longer, the warmth of the fire spreading between you, but it was the warmth of his smile, his laugh, and his song that stayed with you long after you retreated to your tent.

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 community #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #javier escuella #javier escuella x reader smut #javier escuella imagine #javier escuella fanfiction

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a-lilac-lyric · 1 year ago

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As a Kirby fan, astronomy nerd, and yarn enjoyer, I think the Star that we got in the movie is perfect.

Am I the only one who actually likes the Star we ended up with in Disney’s “Wish”?

#wish 2023 #star wish #I also think it is really cool that movie Star uses it/its pronouns in English #Because re-watching the movie yeah they never use he/him for star even once #It becomes even more apparent in the novelizations of wish when the narration only ever uses it/its as well #And Star uses feminine pronouns in the Spanish and Portuguese dubs of the film because Estrella and Estrela are feminine nouns by default

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manessha545 · 4 months ago

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Cocora Valley, Quindío, Colombia: The Cocora Valley is a valley in the Quindío Department of Colombia. It is located in the Central Cordillera of the Andean mountains. "Cocora" was the name of a Quimbayan princess, daughter of the local chief Acaime, and means "star of water" (Spanish: estrella de agua). The valley is part of the Los Nevados National Natural Park, incorporated into the existing national park by the Colombian government in 1985. Wikipedia

#Valle de Cocora #Cocora Valley #Quindío #Quindío Department #Colombia #south america #south american continent

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messylxve · 8 months ago

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goddess | elle greenaway x famous!reader

content warning: unlabeled sexuality, SA, douchy men, self-deprecating thoughts, soft elle, google translate spanish, laufey

divider by @enchanthings

It always goes like this

Could have predicted it

I’m so naive to think you loved me for me

It was almost humiliating how many times you’d been in this position. Heels were abandoned at the door, makeup streaked down your face, and your heart felt too heavy to even make it to your own bedroom.

You threw yourself on your couch, dragging a blanket over yourself and taking your phone out apprehensively. Through your tears, you felt the hesitation of dialing that number.

The number you knew through and through.

You knew it by heart.

‘She doesn’t want to hear from you,’ that little devil whispered into your ear. ‘She’s so sick and tired of you and your bullshit.’

A whimper escaped your lips. You wanted to throw your phone and let it shatter on impact. But you never did.

Instead you clutched it tighter and shoved yourself deeper into the cushions of your couch, the memories of that night resurfacing.

Kissed as I ran off stage

Too old to play this game

Guess you’re still growing up at thirty

You met him on a quiet Sunday morning. You were at your favorite cafe and there he was, approaching you. Calling you beautiful, unlike any other girl you’ve met.

But most of all. He didn’t recognize you.

You detested dating fans. You already got your heart broken there before. You swore off of that.

He showered you with so much affection, you completely missed the signs.

Red flags always seemed normal under your rose-tinted view of the world.

Were you surprised by me

When you took me home?

When the glamour wore off

Reduced to skin and bone

You should have known it was all a lie.

You should have known he was just like all the other

You don’t know how long you sat there, wallowing in self-pity, but the sound of your phone ringing took you out of it for just a moment.

You pulled it away from where it was resting under the couch pillow and your eyes widened at the name.

Elle <3

Once again, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over the green button. You finally picked it up on the third ring.

“Ellie, hi!” You cringed at the way your voice nearly immediately cracked as you tried to feign your usual chipper mood.

“Hey lovely.” Her voice sounded so comforting. Even with just two words, you felt a twinge of warmth attempt to spread through your chest. “You okay?”

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, what makes you ask?”

“You sound like you’ve been crying. And it’s nearly midnight in LA, you aren’t usually this chipper this late unless you’re faking it.”

A sigh escaped you. You never could lie to her.

“You’ve always been so observant.” Your voice dropped the octave now that the facade faded.

“I hope so,” she chuckled lightly. “It’s kind of my job. Do you want to talk about it?”

‘She doesn’t mean it. She’s just being nice.’

“I don’t want to bore you with the details.”

She hummed in disapproval. “You know I always want the details from mi estrella.”

A sad smile slid on your face at the nickname given to you in your childhood; coined after you had gotten the solo in the choir concert.

‘Super star by day, best friend by night,’ 10-year-old Elle had quipped.

You huffed out a small laugh before it all fell away as you recounted your date that night.

“You remember Trevor right? Met him at that coffee shop on Melrose Avenue?”

You heard a pause on her end before she spoke again, her voice softer. “I do.”

“Well…I had a date with him tonight. Fourth one.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

His lips pressed harshly into yours and his hands skimmed over your body as you struggled to keep up.

“I invited him to see me at a concert. My final one on my tour.”

I can’t even tell

Who you want to know

“Trev,” you had tried to laugh. “Slow down.”

Your words fell upon deaf ears as he kissed down to your jaw and began attacking at your neck.

“I um…I thought it was a good idea to invite him backstage when it was over…talk to him for a bit before I had to go out again.”

Elle listened as your tone got darker and darker, reliving your own fresh memories. She heard every bout of emotion in your voice. The pain that shone through from a broken heart.

He began lifting your skirt. You grew dizzy with nausea the more he continued.

‘This isn’t right,’ a tiny voice screamed at you.

“Trev—Trevor, please stop.”

Your hands found his chest, steadying yourself on it before pushing him away. “I said stop!”

“y/n…” Elle’s voice was a whisper now.

“I-I told him I didn’t want that. That I didn’t think we were there yet. He didn’t really like that…”

I’m a goddess on stage

Human when we’re alone

“What do you mean we’re not there yet,” he scoffed. “I’ve been waiting for basically two months for you to be ready.”

He moved in close again, placing a hand on your waist. “I’m so tired of waiting. I’ve listened to your stories, your music. Hell I even talked to that she-devil of a friend of yours, Bella.”

You couldn’t decide whether or not to feel disgusted or betrayed. “It’s Elle…You mean you didn’t want any of that?”

“I wanted you, baby…isn’t that enough.”

You cried freely now into the phone and Elle listened quietly, her own heart breaking for you.

“You’d be proud of me Ellie,” you sniffed. “I stood my ground. Told him no.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, regardless if she’d see it or not. “Yeah… He didn’t really like it though. I had to call security to escort him out.”

“Did he put his hands on you,” she asked.

You bit your lip, the line going quiet for just a moment before you spoke again. “Do you think I can visit you? Just for a week or so?”

She frowned at the sudden change in topic.

“Of course you can, lovely.”

That next day moved so painstakingly slow for Elle. It was a paperwork day which meant she got to sit around anxiously as she waited for another call from you.

You had already called twice. Once to tell her you were leaving your apartment, twice to tell her your plane was about to depart from LA.

Hours has passed and now she awaited your call telling her you were at the airport waiting.

“Alright,” Derek quipped, rocking back in his chair. “What’s up with you today?”

Elle looked over at the man, lifting an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been staring at your phone all day,” Spencer claimed, not looking up from his paperwork.

Elle’s attention snapped between the two men before finally settling on Morgan. “So?”

Derek grinned. “So…? You hate the phone Elle, now you look like you’re waiting for it to come to life in front of your eyes.”

The girl scoffed out a laugh, shaking her head.

“You know what I think it it,” Derek continued. “I think you’ve got Mr. Mystery you’re waiting on.”

Her smile halted for just a second at his words. She twirling the pen in between her fingers once then twice. “You’re delusional Morgan.”

Almost right on cue, her phone rang and Derek let out a laugh seeing the usually preserved woman scramble for it.

“Agent Greenaway.”

“So professional,” you mused, a sly grin sliding on your lips.

A smile eased onto her expression as she turned away from Morgan’s prying eyes. “Hola amorcito. ¿Cómo estuvo tu vuelo?”

“It was good, I slept the whole way here.”

“Eso es bueno. Lo necesita.”

“Rude,” you fake gasped. “Are you calling me grouchy?”

“Sabes lo que quise decir y/n.”

Morgan and Reid looked at each other as they listened to Elle’s end of the conversation, completely clueless as to what you were saying.

“Estaré allí en veinte. Estar segura. Te amo.”

Reid furrowed his brows curiously. He might not have been a whiz in Spanish, but he definitely caught those last words.

“Alright boys, you better behave.”

Spencer frowned. “Where are you going?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

The two of you had spent the rest of the day together.

You didn’t want to go out, so she took you straight to your apartment and there you had the time of your life. You two binged movies, played board games, and now you were cooking together.

It was pure bliss and you couldn’t as for more.

“I missed this,” Elle mused.

You sat perched on the counter, your head laid comfortably on the cabinet behind you and you passed ingredients to the cooking woman.

“Cooking,” you asked with a giggle.

She looked over at you with a laugh. “Pass me the oregano would you. And no I don’t mean cooking. I mean being with you. Phone calls don’t feel like enough anymore.”

You twisted your body around as you shuffled through her spice cabinet. “Yeah,” you mused. “Hearing your voice is definitely what keeps me sane though.”

Elle’s heart stuttered at those words. The cooking spoon in her hand slowed it stirring and she looked up at you.

“I can’t find the oregano,” you mumbled, your attention now fully on the cabinet.

“…it’s on the second shelf,” she cleared her throat, pointing up to where it should be.

“I’m looking on the second shelf,” you whined playfully.

“Here,” she moved away from the hot stove and in front of you, leaving over your head to reach it. “It was right…there.”

She didn’t even realize what position she had put herself in until it was much too late. Either one of your thighs laid beside her hips. You looked down at her and you could feel her breath on you. You could smell her addicting perfume that you found yourself missing every time you two were apart.

It was like an invisible magnet between you two, beckoning the both of you closer and closer. So close that you felt her lips brush against yours.

It was like an epiphany to you. Everything clicked in your head.

The pauses over the phone.

The nicknames.

Hiding your phone calls from her team.

But just as the fireworks began to rise, they sizzled out before ever going off.

She pulled away, clearing her throat awkwardly.

‘You’re so delusional,’ that ugly voice hissed to you. ‘She’s seen the real you. The ugly you. Why would she want that?’

You swallowed hard and blinked away your tears. “Elle.”

She didn’t look over to you. Just focused on finishing the meal. “Yeah?”

You released a dying sigh. “Do you…do you think I’m unlovable?”

She had never looked up so fast. You would have thought the spoon burned her from how quickly she dropped it.

“What?”

You felt like the question was a plot for attention, but it wasn’t. It was probably one of the most genuine questions you asked in a long time.

“I- never mind. I’m sorry.”

Elle looked at you as if you grew a second head right in front of her. “y/n,” she moved back to that same position she had just run from. Except this time, her hands fell to your cheeks, caressing them oh-so gently. “How could you ask that question?”

You frowned. “How could I not?” It came out as a whisper. A moment of pure vulnerability. The first of its kind since that phone call last night.

“I’m not that impossibly perfect, beautiful super star they all expect me to be. I’m just…me. No one wants that.”

Elle shook her head, eyes scanning all over your face before finally settling on your eyes once more. “I want that.”

She felt you freeze under her grasp, but she continued on. “Every single failed date and false expectation was never your fault. You are…so incredibly talented, beautiful, and utterly amazing. In more ways than people give you credit for. If all these other people can’t love you the way I do, for you, then they don’t deserve you.”

Your breath stopped in your chest. Stuck. Unable to move in or out. “You love me? Or do you love me?”

You put that emphasis on your final words. There was no other way it could have been interpreted other than

“y/n, I am so utterly in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

Your hands found her wrists where you stabled yourself onto her. A smile broke free from your shocked expression. With a broken laugh, you surged forward, pressing your lips onto her’s in a kiss.

“I love you too.”

Translations:

“hi lovely how was your flight.”

“That’s good, you needed it”

“You know what I mean y/n”

“I’ll be there in twenty. Stay safe. I love you.”

@mackannkees

AN: I can’t believe I wrote that all in one night. It’s officially 3am as of posting, I’m not expecting this to get much attention, this was more self-indulgence if anything. I hope u guys like it tho

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hookhausenschips · 4 months ago

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Heartbeats in Santo Domingo {LN4 & OP81}

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Summary: It’s summer break from F1! In a heartfelt reunion, Y/N welcomes her boyfriends, Oscar and Lando, to the vibrant culture of her Dominican Republic hometown, sharing the warmth of family and tradition. As they navigate the challenges of love amidst external judgments, Y/N finds strength in her roots and the unwavering support of her family, solidifying their bond and embracing her identity with pride.

WC: 4k words

Warnings: mentions of hate on social media and mentions of racism and hate towards cultural identity and relationship status.

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

Click here to join any of my taglists

A/N: (Please forgive me if any of the translations are wrong, I tried my best to remember from memory and we all know how Google is so I refrained from using)

There’s something about the Dominican Republic that’s hard to explain unless you’re from here. The air feels different the moment you step off the plane—thick with humidity, but in a way that makes me feel alive, not suffocated. The sounds of bachata, merengue, and dembow fill every corner, whether it’s from someone’s house, a passing car, or the man on the street with a speaker in his hand. It’s loud and vibrant, but it’s my chaos.

As I stood on the tarmac with Oscar on one side and Lando on the other, I couldn’t help but smile. This is home. For once, I could be unapologetically me, not the subject of endless online commentary about my skin color, my hair, or my accent. Just me.

“Bienvenidos a mi tierra, chicos,” I said, giving them both a grin as I inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar scent of saltwater and tropical heat. I caught Oscar’s eyes, his calm and steady gaze making my heart flutter like it always did. {"Welcome to my land, guys."}

Lando was already fanning himself dramatically. “This heat is no joke, Y/N!” he said, wiping his brow.

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You’re British. Of course, you’re struggling.” I reached out and playfully poked his side. “Wait till we get deeper into the city. This is nothing.”

Oscar smirked, his arm comfortably around my waist. “I’ll admit, it’s hotter than I expected. But I like it. Feels… lively.”

I nodded. “Santo Domingo isn’t like anywhere you’ve been before. Trust me, you’ll see.” I couldn’t wait to show them everything—the real Dominican Republic, not the resorts or the beaches tourists flock to, but the pulse of the city, the people, the food, the culture.

The drive from the airport to my family’s house felt like stepping into another world. Lando and Oscar watched everything from the car windows, their eyes wide as we passed the crowded streets, the colorful houses, and the vendors yelling out offers for fresh mangos and empanadas. I saw the excitement in their eyes, especially Lando’s, who’d been asking me about Dominican culture since the day we met.

We finally arrived at my family’s place—a small, cozy home in a lively barrio. The streets were alive with laughter and music, kids playing in the roads, and neighbors leaning out of their windows to see what the commotion was. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I was wrapped up in a flurry of hugs and kisses from my cousins and aunts.

“Ay, Dios mío, muchacha, ¡pero qué bonita estás!” my mom practically shouted as she squeezed me tight. She pulled back and looked at Oscar and Lando, her eyes sparkling with recognition. “Y estos son los novios, ¿no? ¡Los de los carros rápidos!” She laughed, giving them both a once-over like any Dominican mom would. {"Oh my god, girl, how beautiful you are!" "And these are the boyfriends, right? The ones with the fast cars?"}

Oscar, who was still working on his Spanish, gave a polite nod and a smile, but it was Lando who surprised me.

“Sí, señora,” Lando said, grinning as he reached out to shake her hand. “Pero Y/N es la verdadera estrella.” {"Yes, ma'am." "But Y/N is the real star."}

My mom threw her head back and laughed. “Este sabe hablar,” she said, obviously impressed. “Muy bien, mi hijo.” {"This one knows how to talk." "Very good, my son."}

I couldn’t help but beam. My mom already loved them both, but it was little moments like this—where Lando could adapt to the language and the culture—that made my heart swell. This wasn’t just some vacation for them. They were making the effort to understand where I came from.

We moved inside, where the smells of sancocho and tostones greeted us. My abuela, who had been cooking all morning, smiled brightly when she saw me and insisted I come straight to the kitchen to eat.

“¡Coman, coman!” she said, placing a mountain of food in front of Oscar and Lando, who both looked a little overwhelmed by how much was on their plates. {"Eat, eat!"}

Oscar raised an eyebrow at me. “You weren’t kidding when you said your family loves to feed people.”

“Don’t even try to stop her,” I said with a laugh. “Just eat as much as you can and smile. That’s how you win her over.”

Lando, already digging into his plate, nodded enthusiastically. “I think I’m in love with your abuela’s cooking. This is amazing!”

The rest of the night was filled with laughter and stories, my cousins teasing each other, my aunts gossiping, and my mom making sure everyone had enough to eat. Watching Oscar and Lando navigate the chaos of my family with ease made me feel… proud. They were in a world so different from their own, yet here they were, embracing every moment of it.

I glanced at Oscar, who was leaning back in his chair, quietly observing everything with a small smile on his face. He wasn’t as loud or outgoing as Lando, but I knew he was taking it all in. His calm energy was always a grounding force for me, and seeing him here, in the middle of my world, made me realize just how much he belonged in it.

Lando, on the other hand, was in full-on charm mode. He was talking to my cousins, making them laugh, and even trying out more Spanish phrases—much to the delight of my mom, who kept calling him “el inglés simpático.” I had no doubt she’d be talking about him for weeks after we left. {"the charming Englishman."}

But even in all the joy, I couldn’t fully shake the thoughts of the outside world. I knew what people said about me. The comments on social media were brutal sometimes—calling me too dark to be with them, too Black, too Dominican. They questioned why two white guys, famous Formula 1 drivers, would ever be with a girl like me.

But I never let that hate sit with me for long.

I posted pictures proudly, whether it was me with Oscar at a McLaren event or Lando and I on vacation. Of course the fans would create rumors that I was cheating on Oscar with Lando, that we seemed a little too close but little did they actually know. And every time someone tried to knock me down, I clapped back—sometimes with humor, sometimes with facts. I once told a troll, “Well, I must be doing something right if I’ve got them both.” That shut them up quickly.

But here, surrounded by my family, the hate felt so far away. I wasn’t just Oscar’s girlfriend or Lando’s girlfriend. I was Y/N, daughter of the Dominican Republic, proud of where I came from and who I was.

Later that night, after dinner, we took a walk along the Malecón, the ocean breeze cooling us down from the heat of the day. I was sandwiched between Oscar and Lando, their presence comforting. Lando slipped his hand into mine, and Oscar wrapped an arm around my waist. It was subtle—we weren’t making any grand statements, but it was enough for me.

“Do you ever think about when we’ll make this official?” Lando asked, his voice low but serious.

I sighed, looking out at the ocean. “Yeah, I do. But I also think about what comes with it. People are going to have a lot to say. And not all of it’s going to be nice.”

Oscar kissed the top of my head. “We’ll deal with it when we’re ready. No rush.”

I nodded, grateful for their understanding. “We’ve got time. And right now, this… this is perfect.”

Lando grinned, squeezing my hand. “Perfect? I think you just love showing off your country.”

“Maybe,” I teased. “But you can’t tell me you don’t love it here.”

Oscar smirked. “We do. And we love you. That’s all that matters.”

As we continued to walk, I couldn’t help but smile. This was my world, and they were part of it now—my home, my family, my heart.

��Mi casa, mi gente,” I whispered, feeling content. “Welcome to my world.” {"My home, My people."}

The moonlit stroll along the Malecón felt like a dream, the salty breeze from the Caribbean gently rustling my curls. The city was alive, as always, even this late. The sounds of bachata echoed in the distance, the soft murmur of the ocean waves providing a soothing soundtrack. I felt a sense of peace wash over me—something that wasn’t always easy to find in the chaos of my life. But here, with Oscar and Lando by my side, I was grounded. Whole.

“Y/N, you look like you’re thinking a million things at once,” Lando teased, nudging me with his shoulder. He always had a way of reading my mind without me saying a word.

I chuckled softly, looking up at him. “I guess I am. It’s just… bringing you both here, showing you my world, my family—it’s more than I ever imagined. It feels… right. But it’s also scary, you know?”

Oscar’s grip around my waist tightened a little, his silent reassurance. He wasn’t the type to need many words, but when he spoke, I always knew it came from the heart. “You don’t have to be scared. This is us, Y/N. No matter where we are.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words sink in. He was right, of course. The three of us had built something solid, something real. But that didn’t change the fact that I was scared—not of us, but of what the world would think when they found out. People already had opinions about me, about how I looked next to Oscar. They had even more opinions about Lando, though no one knew just how deep our connection really ran. The idea of the world knowing the truth about us was terrifying.

“I know,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I’m not scared of us, just… how people will react. You know how they are, especially when it comes to me. They don’t get why you’re with me, and it’s gonna be a lot worse when they find out the truth.”

Lando’s face softened, his usual playful grin replaced with something more serious. “Y/N, we’ve dealt with this before. Yeah, people say dumb stuff online, but you’ve always handled it like a badass. When we go public, nothing’s going to change that. And besides, we’re in this together. We’ve got each other’s backs.”

I smiled at him, appreciating his optimism. Lando was always the one to lift my spirits, his natural charm and carefree attitude infectious. But still, the reality of it all weighed heavily on me.

Oscar spoke up, his voice calm and steady. “We’ll take it one step at a time. We don’t have to rush into anything. If you’re not ready, we wait. No one can force us to do anything before we’re ready.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, leaning into his warmth. “But sometimes, I feel like I’m holding you guys back, you know? Like, if it wasn’t for me, you could go public and not have to deal with all the… complications.”

Lando stopped walking and turned to face me, his green eyes flashing with a mix of determination and affection. “Stop that. You’re not holding anyone back. This isn’t just about you—this is about us. We’re a team, remember? None of us are doing anything we’re not comfortable with. And I don’t care what people think. Let them talk. I’ve got you, and I’ve got Oscar. That’s all I need.”

Before I could respond, Lando closed the distance between us, his hand cupping my cheek gently. His lips met mine in a kiss that was soft yet full of conviction, like he was trying to tell me through every touch just how much he meant those words. My breath hitched for a moment, the weight of everything falling away as I melted into the kiss, feeling his warmth, his reassurance.

When we finally broke apart, I was greeted by Oscar’s soft smile. He gently rubbed my back, his presence steady and grounding. “Lando’s right,” he said quietly, his deep eyes locking with mine. “We’ll figure this out together. But for now, we’re in Santo Domingo, with your family. Let’s just enjoy being here, with no pressure.”

I looked between the two of them, my heart swelling with gratitude and love. How did I get so lucky? These two incredible men were willing to stand by me, to love me without hesitation, no matter what the world had to say about it. I wasn’t sure what I had done to deserve them, but I wasn’t going to question it. They were mine, and I was theirs.

“Okay,” I said finally, a small smile creeping onto my face. “You’re right. Let’s just enjoy this. We’ll deal with everything else later.”

Oscar leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer than usual. “That’s our girl.”

The next few days were pure bliss. I took Oscar and Lando around Santo Domingo, showing them my favorite spots—the old colonial buildings in the Zona Colonial, the vibrant markets where we haggled for fresh fruit and handmade crafts, and the little hidden beaches outside the city where we could just relax without being recognized. It was a side of the Dominican Republic that tourists rarely saw, and I could tell they were loving it.

One afternoon, we stopped at a local colmado, a small convenience store, for some cold drinks. As we stood outside sipping on our presidente beers, a couple of kids zoomed past us on bikes, laughing and shouting in Spanish. The older one, maybe ten years old, skidded to a stop when he saw Oscar and Lando.

“¡Oye! ¡Esos son los pilotos de McLaren!” he shouted, his eyes wide with excitement. “¡Lando! ¡Oscar!” {"Hey! Those are the McLaren Drivers!"}

I couldn’t help but laugh as the kids ran up to them, their energy infectious. Lando, always the crowd pleaser, crouched down to their level and started chatting with them in his broken Spanish, while Oscar gave them his usual calm, kind smiles. Watching them with these kids, blending so easily into my world, made my heart soar.

One of the boys turned to me, his eyes scanning me with curiosity. “¿Tú eres la novia de Oscar?” {"Are you Oscar's girlfriend?"}

I grinned, ruffling his hair. “Sí, pero también la de Lando,” I teased. {"Yes, but also Lando's."}

He looked confused for a second before giggling and running back to his bike. As they rode off, I turned to find both Oscar and Lando looking at me with playful smirks.

“Really?” Lando asked, raising an eyebrow. “You just casually dropped that like it was no big deal?”

I shrugged, sipping my drink. “What? It’s not like they’re going to post it on Twitter.”

Oscar chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else, Y/N.”

But I wasn’t worried. For once, I didn’t care who knew. Here, in Santo Domingo, I was in my element. The judgments of the outside world didn’t reach this far, and if they did, I was ready for them. Because no matter what anyone said, I knew what we had was real. I loved Oscar, and I loved Lando, and they loved me back. That was all that mattered.

Our last night in Santo Domingo was one I’d never forget. My family threw us a massive fiesta de despedida, a farewell party that felt like a celebration of everything—love, family, and the beautiful chaos that is life in the Dominican Republic. {farewell party}

The backyard was lit with strings of colorful lights, and the scent of grilled meat filled the air. My cousins played dominoes at one table, my aunts danced to bachata, and my mom was busy making sure everyone had enough food and drinks.

Lando and Oscar stood near the speakers, trying to imitate the moves my cousins were showing them, and I couldn’t stop laughing. Lando was surprisingly good, his hips moving in time to the music, while Oscar—bless his heart—was a little stiff, but trying his best.

I watched them, my heart full, and realized that this was it. This was everything I had ever wanted. A world where my love for them and their love for me could coexist with the culture that had shaped me.

As the night wore on, we found ourselves on the dance floor, the three of us swaying to the music. Oscar’s hands rested on my waist, and Lando held my hand, spinning me around playfully. I could feel the eyes of my family on us, but there was no judgment, no questions—just acceptance.

As the party roared on around me, I felt a hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me away from the dance floor. I turned to see my mom, her face lit up with that warm smile she always wore when she had something important to say. Beside her was my tía Carmen, my aunt who’d practically helped raise me. She and my mom shared a look, the kind that only years of sisterhood could communicate.

“Ven, ven, mi niña,” my mom said, motioning for me to follow them into the quieter corner of the backyard, away from the noise and chaos of the fiesta. I hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the dance floor. Lando was laughing as one of my cousins taught him a more complicated bachata step, while Oscar, ever the observant one, was attempting to mirror the moves with a more subtle rhythm. I smiled to myself, loving how effortlessly they fit into this world that was so far from their own. {"Come, come, my girl."}

Once we were away from the music, my mom and tía Carmen stood in front of me, their faces soft with affection, but there was something else—something deeper, like they’d been waiting for this moment.

“Querida,” my mom began, her voice low but full of emotion. “We wanted to talk to you, just the three of us. It’s about… those muchachos. Oscar and Lando.” She smiled, her eyes glimmering with pride. “We can see how much they mean to you.” {"Dear." "boys."}

I blinked, taken aback. I knew they liked the boys, but something in her tone made my heart skip a beat. I looked between her and tía Carmen, who nodded knowingly.

“Mi amor, I’ve never seen you like this,” my tía said, her voice full of warmth. “I see how you look at them. And more importantly, I see how they look at you. Those boys are absolutely in love with you. You can’t hide that from us.” She chuckled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. {"My love."}

I felt a lump in my throat. This wasn’t a conversation I was expecting. I’d been so focused on introducing Oscar and Lando to my world, hoping my family would accept them, but now it was as if they were the ones giving me permission to accept this love fully.

“Mija,” my mom continued, stepping closer, her hand now gently cupping my cheek. “I know people are going to have things to say. I know what’s out there—the hate, the comments. But you’ve always been so strong, and I see that strength even more now. The way those boys love you… I can tell it’s different. I see it in their eyes when they look at you, like they’d move heaven and earth to make you happy.” {"My daughter."}

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, the emotions bubbling to the surface. “Mami… I—” My voice caught in my throat, and I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. “It’s just, I never thought I’d find something like this. And with both of them… it’s been a lot to take in, you know? But it’s real. It’s so real, and I love them. I love them so much.”

Tía Carmen smiled softly, brushing a tear from my cheek before it could fall. “And they love you. You can see it in everything they do. The way Lando tries so hard to fit in, to speak Spanish even when it’s a mess.” We both laughed lightly at that, knowing she wasn’t wrong. “And the way Oscar is always watching you, like you’re the center of his world. They’ve come into this family like they’ve always belonged here.”

My mom nodded in agreement. “You deserve this love, mi niña. You deserve to be happy. And we can see how much you love them too. Your father and I talk about it all the time. It’s like you’ve come alive since they entered your life.” {"my girl."}

That hit me deep. My family knew me better than anyone, and to hear them say they could see how much these boys meant to me… it was overwhelming in the best way. The acceptance I didn’t even realize I was yearning for washed over me like a wave.

Tears spilled over now, and I laughed through the emotion, wiping them away quickly. “You really think it’s okay? I mean… it’s not exactly normal, and people are going to have opinions.”

My mom pulled me into a tight hug, holding me like she did when I was a little girl. “Ay, mi amor, people will always have opinions, especially when they don’t understand. But love isn’t something that fits into a box. It’s not about what’s normal for other people. It’s about what’s right for you. And you’ve found something beautiful with Oscar and Lando. No one can take that from you.”

Tía Carmen chimed in, her voice soft but sure. “They’ve made you happy, Y/N, and that’s all that matters. We see it. And we’re proud of you, proud that you’ve found something so rare. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

I pulled back from my mom’s embrace and looked between the two of them, my heart full. “Thank you,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”

They smiled at me, the warmth in their eyes reassuring me more than words ever could. In that moment, I felt lighter—like a weight I hadn’t fully acknowledged was lifting from my chest. Knowing my family really understood and supported what I had with Oscar and Lando meant everything.

“Now,” my mom said, wiping her own eyes quickly, her tone shifting to something more playful, “you’d better get back to those boys before they think we’ve kidnapped you.”

Tía Carmen laughed. “Sí, and before your cousins teach Lando some moves that he won’t recover from.”

I chuckled through the remaining tears, feeling a new sense of clarity and peace. “Okay, okay, I’m going,” I said, smiling as I turned to walk back toward the music.

As I approached the dance floor, I saw Lando twirling one of my cousins with a dramatic flair, while Oscar was still trying his best to master the rhythm. They both spotted me at the same time, and the looks of relief and love on their faces made my heart swell all over again.

“Hey, where’d you sneak off to?” Lando asked, his smile wide as he pulled me into his arms.

I grinned, leaning into him as Oscar came up behind me, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. “Just a little chat with my mom and tía. They wanted to make sure you two are treating me right.”

Oscar chuckled, his eyes warm as he looked down at me. “I hope we passed the test.”

I glanced up at him, then at Lando, my heart full to bursting. “You passed with flying colors.”

By the time the party ended, and we found ourselves alone in my room, exhausted but happy, I realized something important. No matter what happened when we went back to the public eye, no matter how people reacted when we eventually went public, we’d be okay.

Because this—this love, this connection—was real. And no one could take that away from us.

“Te quiero,” I whispered to both of them as I curled up between them on the bed, feeling their warmth surround me. {“I love you.”}

“We love you too,” Oscar murmured, kissing the top of my head.

Lando squeezed my hand. “Always, Y/N.”

And in that moment, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.

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