#f1 one shots

[bonbonly]

not sure which driver would fit this (maybe carlos or max?) but something about them degrading you so much to the point he buys nipple clamps that connect to a chain. so he treats you like a dog, pulling on your chain to make you move—and each time he does, your nipples harden even more, slick dripping down your pussy……… ohh my god

bon's thoughts (18+) i'm putting this in the boss!lewis x secretary!reader universe because that's all i can see right now

you've been pretty upset the whole month having to deal with lewis edging you and never letting you cum, so you plan an entire thing where you're going to get your payback. your vibrators are all broken with the amount of times you've had to cum in the middle of the night in your apartment after every day of an excruciating day at work where lewis was torturing you like crazy.

so one day during your lunch break, lewis passes by the break room to get a cup of coffee only to instead see you bouncing on another intern's dick, screaming in ecstasy as you stare at lewis the entire time saying "fuck, i'm cumming, i'm cumming!"

and he's biting the inside of his cheek, nodding his head at you. ok, if you wanted to be office slut he'd let you be the office slut. he calls you to his office later in the day, and you walk in adjusting your pencil skirt and stretching your arms, "oh it feels good to have someone's cum dripping down my thighs. so much better when i get to cum too!"

"sit your ass down before i have you fired," lewis rolls his eyes and you smirk at him. he'd never fire you, he has way too much fun with you, "take off your clothes, now."

"but it's the middle of the work day? i have work to get back to, which you gave me remember?" you scoff, and he shakes his head at your attitude,

"run that mouth of yours one more time and i'll buy a ball gag to match this..." he pauses, pulling out a box from his drawer and he holds up nipple clamps. you gasp out loud, standing up,

"nuh uh, i'm not wearing that. lewis, it's bad enough that i have to sit down on a vibrating cock every day when i work, not this...." you cross your arms, pouting at him and he stands up to walk over to where you stand,

"first of all, it's mr. hamilton, you keep forgetting that i'm your boss, not your boyfriend. second of all, this isn't a request, love," he grabs your blouse, ripping the buttons off of you before unclasping your bra and tossing it onto his chair. you struggle against his arms, mainly because it's fun to see him get more pissed at you for being disobedient and he flips you onto your stomach which causes you to moan at the feeling of the cold table pressed against your tits, "you're such a slut, honestly, who even let you into the workforce?"

he giggles under his breath, tugging your skirt and panties down before dragging you down to the ground. he rolls your nipples between his thumbs, loving the way you're gasping and squirming under his touch before reaching out and grabbing the nipple clamps and placing them on you.

"finally, god, you always make this so much harder on yourself," and he sits back down behind his desk, tugging the chain that connects the clamps towards him and you moan out loud, rubbing your thighs together for some friction, "of course you're into this. your brain's just empty at this point with the amount of times i didn't let you cum so now you're into sick shit like this to get you off, right?"

you can't even process his words because you want to feel him inside you, and every time he tugs at the clamps harder, calling you a dirty whore, you're whining about how you want him to fuck you, you want to feel his cum coating your walls. that's enough for him to toss you onto his lap, letting you straddle him. he places the chain in his mouth, biting down into the metal and occasionally jerking his head back to let the clamps pinch your nipples a little more harder than before and when he slides his aching cock inside you, you're letting out a wanton moan that echoes through the entire office. you're sure everyone can hear you. and probably can now see you because lewis at his desk presses a button to let the blinds unveil the sin he's committing. he wants the entire place to know that you're his, and only his.

"this is what you wanted? you wanted to get fucked? you wanted me to fuck your brains out until you're just another dumb whore to take my cum, yeah? you're doing all this just so you can cum, yeah you're gonna cum," his hips snap against yours in a brutal pace, and you're crying at how intense this feels. you scream out loud as his thumb rubs harsh circles on your sensitive nub, and you're cumming around his cock for the first time, feeling like you're on cloud nine. he took his words to heart though, because he's still fucking you, his grip on you tightening, "i'm going to make you cum again and again until you're begging me to stop, oh fuck, you're going to regret riding that intern love."

you don't know how many times you've cum, and you're pleading with him telling him that you can't take it anymore but he flips you onto your stomach and starts rutting into you once more. you glance out the window of the door to see the intern just staring at you with wide eyes and he walks away, his cheeks turning red.

"i thought you wanted to cum? you spent all this time whining and crying about how i never let you cum! and now that i'm letting you, you're telling me to stop? make up your mind. unless you're too fucked out that your dumb brain can't think properly, is that it sweetheart? is my cock too much for you?" he laughs in your ear, and you're wailing out loud as you cum for another time, squirting all over his desk as he smacks your ass for making such a big mess. he wraps his hand around you to tug at your clamps and you whine out loud.

he takes you home with him that night, refusing to let you take those clamps off. "we're far from done, love. don't forget that."

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

[tpwk-formula1]

hi can i get a thin crust pizza with red sauce, jalapeños, onions, dr. pepper, and dessert pls?

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

Thin crust brothers best friend Red sauce rough sex jalapenos always such a fucking brat onions I saw you being a little slut dr pepper dirty talk dessert yes

TW - rough sex, cumming on body, getting caught, angry sex, fighting, accused of cheating.

WC 1800+

AN - Okay so I got two Anon at roughly the same time with slight differences but I think they are from the same person so I combined them together. The other one asked for the same things minus the Dr. Pepper and Ollie Bearman so I went with him.

Y/N POV

"Get back here," Ollie seethed through clenched teeth making he turn around slightly to make eye contact with him.

"Oliver leave me alone. I'm going to Kimi's room. I just need some air," I tell Ollie softly knowing we had been fighting for the past hour just going in circles neither of us being willing to apologize.

"So you're just going to walk out in the middle of this conversation," Ollie deadpans making me cross my arms across my chest growing tired of this fight.

"Ollie, I love you to death, but we are getting nowhere. We've been running in circles for the past hour. I'm surprised we haven't gotten a noise complaint or had a Prema member come knock on the door. I'm gonna go to Kimi's room for an hour. Let's both clear our heads and we'll have a conversation when I get back," I tell him softly before turning on my foot and making my way out of the Baku hotel room before going a few doors down to my little brothers room.

I invited myself into his room using the key he had given me. When I step into the hotel room I'm shocked to find Kimi sitting in bed on his phone talking to our mom. When he looks up and catches my eye he raises a brow making me shake my head knowing I didn't wanna talk about Ollie and I's fight in front of our mom.

I'm next to Kimi talking to our mom about our travels when a soft knock rang through the room making me roll my eyes knowing it was Ollie not having the patience to wait.

"Olive- Oh hi Dino," I awkwardly shift when I whip open the door getting ready to snap at Ollie but finding a confused Dino.

"Are you okay?" Dino asks softly making me roll my eyes and groan not wanting to mention the petty fight.

"It's nothing," I tell Dino stepping out of the door frame to let Dino in. When I go to close the door I find Ollie's head peaking out from our hotel room where he raises his brow at Dino coming into the room making me shake my head and close the door before going back into the room to say bye to our mom.

"Why are you here?" Kimi asks turning his attention to Dino when he hangs up the phone with our mom.

"No reason in particular, Arvid is busy so I thought I'd bug you," Dino says shrugging before plopping himself onto the couch. Kimi just shrugs his shoulders not really shocked.

"You're not gonna ask why I'm here," I scoff jokingly making Kimi look at me with the straightest face possible.

"I heard you and Ollie going at each other's throats when I came back from the Prema garage. So I'm assuming you just needed space," Kimi says seriously making Dino look at me in shock. Ollie and I have never been a couple to fight so I can see how it was shocking for Dino.

I sit on my phone while the boys talk before telling them bye and making my way back into Ollie and I's shared room.

"Awe my favorite whore is back," Ollie says the second I open the door making me stop dead in my tracks. I debate on just leaving again given Ollie hasn't calmed down in the slightest and now I'm pissed all over again.

"Come again?" I question hoping some sense hits Ollie dead in the face.

"Oh don't be dense I saw you being a little slut. You said you were going to Kimi's room to clear your head, not to hang out with Dino," Ollie says making everything click. He thought I was alone in Kimi's room before inviting Dino in. Kimi and Ollie always said hi once they got back from the garage but Kimi didn't stop in today because he had heard us fighting.

"Whatever you think happened didn't," I tell Ollie softly realizing this could be bad.

"Are you sure? Cause from my end you left to clear your head in you brother's room which happens to be empty and then a few minutes later I hear the door down the hall open and what do you know it's you happily invited Dino in," Ollie says letting his voice grow loud with each word.

"Kimi is back," I tell him softly. Ollie just rolls his eyes before making a few strides towards me before he pushes me against the wall.

"I'm supposed to believe that?" Ollie scoffs not believing the truth.

"Yes, I would never do anything like that," I tell him before Ollie rolls his eyes and leans down before crashing his lips onto mine.

"I guess I have to show you who you belong to," Ollie tells me with venom in his voice before he grips me in the back of the head and drags me to the bed where he roughly pushes me onto the bed.

When he climbed into bed he discarded his shirt before working on my clothes next. When I'm left completely bare Ollie instantly starts trailing his kisses from my lips down to my neck where he leaves a faint hickey before whispering, "Mine."

Ollie finally settles on my tits before taking a few nips at my nipples making sure I can feel his teeth but not hard enough for me to complain about it.

"Ollie please," I beg trying to grind my hips up into Ollie's crotch trying to gain friction but Ollie has other ideas cause he pushes me back down telling me to behave.

"Who made you this wet?" Ollie asks when he comes face to face with my soaked pussy. What? I can't help but love when Ollie gets like this. It was rare, but oh so good when it happened.

"You, Ollie please," I whine needing some kind of stimulation.

"Are you sure," Ollie asks with a raised brow making me throw his a serious face before nodding.

"Yes, I'm all yours Ollie. Always yours," I tell him softly making him hum in satisfaction.

When Ollie starts leaving wet kisses all over my thighs I can feel my clit start to throb before he finally moves his mouth towards my pussy when he trails his tongue from my hole to my clit collecting as much as my pussy juice before he moans softly just from tasting me.

When Ollie pulls my clit into his mouth I instantly become a moaning mess under him.

"So good," I moan which instantly grew louder when he slips two of his long fingers into my pussy making sure to hit my G-spot with each thrust.

"Oh fuck," I moan becoming quickly overwhelmed with all the pleasure coursing through my body.

"Ollie, I'm close," I moan softly stuttering from the intense pleasure.

"Hold it," Ollie groans into my pussy not letting up his movements only bringing me closer to the edge.

"I can't," I whine when I feel myself oh so close to the edge.

It was inevitable, but the second the words left my mouth I started cumming all over Ollie's fingers and tongue.

"God, you never listen. Always such a fucking brat," Ollies says after helping me ride my orgasm out. When he pulled away he sent a firm slap down right on my pussy making me whine and try to close my legs not wanting another one.

"Keep your legs open," Ollie says while standing up from the bed. I watch him closely as he starts to strip his jeans and briefs making my mouth water slightly.

When Ollie climbs back into the bed he almost instantly slips his cock right into my pussy making me gasp at the intrusion.

"Ollie, fuck," I moan, making Ollie groan feeling my pussy clench tightly around his thick cock.

"So big, baby," I whine while feeling Ollie start to thrust into my pussy.

"God, you're so fucking tight," Ollie groans leaning his face down into my neck to give it a soft nip.

"Ollie," I gasp out when I feel Ollie bring his hand down to my clit to bring me more pleasure.

"I can feel you clenching me on my cock baby. Does Dino make you feel this good?" Ollie spits out making me whine.

"Ollie, you know damn well I didn't fuck him," I stutter back still overwhelmed with pleasure.

"And for the love of God don't bring up another man while you fuck me this good," I snap at him making him chuckle softly before he double downs and starts fucking me even harder.

"I'm gonna cum," I announce before I start cumming all over Ollie's cock again. Cumming around Ollie's cock triggered Ollie to pull out and starts cumming ropes of his hot cum all over my tummy. Once he's done painting my body he slowly climbs out of the bed getting a rag to clean me up.

"I love you," Ollie whispers once he climbs into bed and pulls me into his chest.

"I love you too, but Ollie you need to listen before jumping to conclusions," I reply back softly while stroking his cheek.

"I know, I was just upset after quali and I know it's no excuse but then I saw you letting Dino in and it just broke my heart," Ollie tells me softly making me cuddle into his side more trying to resolve the issue.

"I promise Kimi was in the room. He said he heard us fighting so Im assuming that's why he didn't stop in and say hi," I tell him softly while tracing my fingers around his toned chest.

"Oh my God, you mean to tell me Kimi heard me yelling at his sister? I'm a fucking dead man walking," Ollie groans making me laugh.

"I'm sure if he felt like you would hurt me he would have come in, He has a key," I tell Ollie softly and as soon as the words leave my mouth our hotel door is opened by none other than my brother with a key.

"OH MY GOD," Kimi yells shielding his eyes as if Ollie and I weren't covered by a blanket.

"Don't be dramatic Adrea Kimi, what the fuck to you want," I ask pulling the blanket even further up my body feeling awkward.

"I just wanted to know if you guys wanted to come to dinner with Dino and I but I don't think I can sit through a dinner knowing you guys just did THAT," Kimi says making Ollie and I both chuckle softly.

"I don't think Ollie needs to be near Dino right now," I joke softly making Ollie shove me laughing along with me.

"We'll pass but tomorrow after the Grand Prix wanna grab dinner together?" Ollie says making plans with Kimi and Dino for us.

When Kimi leaves the room I can hear him announce loudly exactly what Ollie and I were doing. I can only hope it was just Dino in the hallway.

"I'm sorry if I overreacted," Ollie says softly placing a kiss on my forehead.

"It's okay, especially if you fuck me like that when it happens," I tease making Ollie grow red.

[paddockbunny]

List B + Challenge with Lando please!

Good Kisser

Summary : The first time you had kissed Lando it was well, the worst kiss you had ever had. So when you joke he wasn’t a good kisser, he makes sure to prove you wrong Rating : 16+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 1,787 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 16+, NSFW, adult language, nothing too bad Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List B. Prompt : Challenge - after the receiver teasingly suggests that the sender is a terrible kisser, sender immediately and fervently proves them wrong with a long, passionate kiss that leaves the receiver taking back what they said.

You felt the heavy bass of the thumping music reverberating through your bones as you made your way to the VIP table your friends were sitting at.

While everyone had been indulging in the free bottles of liquor that adored the table, you had been good and had barely drunk a thing. You were the responsible adult for your friends tonight - which meant you had to make sure none of the guys went home with any girls - so when you saw Lando raise his glass to his mouth again you rolled your eyes.

“What are you drinking, Norris?” You saddled up beside him. Momentarily, he looked up at you sheepishly but there was also a hint of smugness about him. “Why don’t you try it and see?” He held it out to you. You knew Lando didn’t like the taste of alcohol. He went for fruity little cocktails and sugar based drinks instead of the strong stuff simply because he hated the taste of it. So when you sucked the orangey red liquid up the straw it didn’t surprise you that it tasted like a smoothie. “You’re such a child.” You laughed as you slid into the booth beside him. “I’m really not…” You weren’t sure if he intended you to hear his words or not. They sounded like they were laced with something other than sarcasm. Something more like flirtation. But it was Lando. He was the last person who would be flirting with you.

As Max returned to the table he eyed the pair of you up and down and raised his eyebrow. Max had continually been complaining about how close and cosy you and Lando were. He always moaned about the pair of you seemingly like bosom buddies and like he was third wheeling. Which was utterly ridiculous as there was absolutely nothing going on with him. You were just friends who occasionally flirted. Flirty friends. That was it. Suddenly as you looked at him you saw the mischievous side grip hold of your friend across the table. The glint in his eye gave him away.

“Why don’t the pair you just kiss already?” You mentally wanted to strangle him. See months ago, you had in fact kissed. You and Lando. He had come P2 at his home race and on the night out that followed he kissed you. It wasn’t in the slightest bit romantic and as far as you could get from mind blowing. Actually, it had been a total fail. He had caught you off guard and instead of it being some big breath stealing kiss it was like kissing a dead fish. You were in shock. You had zero idea it was coming and the element of surprise was really, well, surprising. And besides all that, he didn’t actually seem to be into it. He didn’t grab your waist, caress your neck or fist his hands in your hair. He basically stood in front of you and just went for it. His tongue felt too foreign in your mouth, lips to unfamiliar and he felt so distant and uninterested that you even thought he had done it on a dare. Kissing Lando should have felt euphoric. It should have felt like you were the luckiest girl on earth - after all the fans that would have killed you to have been in your position - but it felt more like you were kissing your brother. It was truthfully the worst kiss of your life.

As you shot Max daggers across the table you heard Lando nervously giggle beside you as if he was in on some kind of joke. He had probably told Max all about the failed kiss and made it seem like it was all your fault. Hence the laughter and hence why you played him at his own game. “Please, not again, once was enough.” You jokingly flicked your hair over your shoulder dramatically. It whipped passed him and skimmed the open space left by not doing enough of his shirt buttons up. You glanced at him - thinking he would be ready to laugh about it like you were - and he looked at you like he had never looked at you before. Lando seemed angry. His brow was furrowed and he had a stern look on his face you had only seen when he was pissed about something that happened in a race. “What do you mean?” Tension grew. In fact it grew so large it felt like it a whole person had sat between the pair of you separating you both. You thought he was on the same wave length as you due to the fact neither of you had brought up the failed kiss after it had happened. Now, as nerves began to fill your body, you turned your head and glanced at Max. His eyebrows were raised and he was staring at you with a shocked expression. You were sure Max knew all about it - Lando was a bloody blabber mouth and told him everything after-all - but the look he was shooting you seemed to imply he was himself shocked at your words. Lando hadn’t given him the impression the kiss was good, had he?

“It wasn’t exactly good was it?” Your mouth kept going. You were digging yourself a hole and couldn’t stop. Fuck! This was why you didn’t like the spotlight. You’re mouth had a kind of its own when you got nervous. “Are you saying I’m a bad kisser?” Lando actually sounded offended. “Well, I’m not calling you a good one” It came out quicker than you could stop yourself. Your brain not catching up to your mouth, once again. But you also nervously chuckled to yourself because you were suddenly so anxious and you always laughed when you were uneasy. No one else laughed however. Certainly not Lando himself who was practically staring into your soul, seething in what you were reading as anger. “You’re the only one who has complained.” He said it directly to you. Looking dead in your eyes. “Really?” You we’re pretending to be shocked but you really were actually shocked. The failed Silverstone kiss was all you had to base your assumptions on so could he really blame you that you presumed he had had other complaints about his kissing skills. “Yeah really.” He scoffed.

And then your mouth did it again. It went off on its own accord before you could stop it. And with confidence you suddenly stated broadly; “Prove it”

You had no idea what you thought was going to happen - considering the fact you had quite clearly insulted him and then proceeded to push him - but now as he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow you felt like you could read his thoughts. He was surprised but pleasantly so. The smirk that breezed past his lips told you that. His head turned the opposite direction just as the knot formed in your stomach. If this was how you were thinking it would happen, you were sure he would chicken out. He would never do anything that was even slightly PDA in public. It wasn’t in him.

And then his hand was in your hair, his thigh was hard against yours and his chest pushed against yours. Your eyes closed in time for his lips to suddenly - finally - be on yours. His bottom lip grazed and his top lip captured as your breath was already stolen from you from the utter confusion at what was happening. But as Lando’s hand tugged your hair, your head tilting back for him, your mouth opened against his lips giving him access to your tongue. That was when you felt it. You felt yourself melting, swooning at his kiss. The blood seemed to rush to your ears and beat so loud it drowned out the noise from the nightclub speakers. All you could think about was him and how he was making you feel. Your temperature raised when his tongue glided across your own. He wasn’t forcing a game of dominance, you were already at his mercy. He had reduced you to a puddle on the floor. Your hands found his shirt and you held on to him while subtly trying to pull him into you even more. A deep, low groan flowed freely from him and straight into your mouth which sent a throbbing ache straight between your thighs. Fuck. What was he doing to you. Lando nipped at your bottom lip. Taking it between his teeth at one point making you completely loose control of your mind. You sighed giving him the signal that he had you in the palm of his hand and all you cared about was getting more of him.

But - almost rudely - he pulled away. His lips gone from yours in an instant. His face was only inches away and you stared directly into his beautiful olive green eyes, breathless and full of want.

“Well?” He smirked. His hands were still on you and you felt his body heat radiating from him. Words couldn’t form anymore. Your quick talking mouth had fallen silent from one single kiss from him. There was nothing you could say in response. You’d rather show him, kiss him back, kiss him again. But he pulled back when you went to do it “You didn’t answer. Am I still a bad kisser?” No. That’s all you had to say. You just needed to tell him no, he wasn’t a bad kisser. But you didn’t. “I think I need another sample to really confirm.” You shrugged and tried to brush it off (while trying to ignore the throb going on inside your panties.

“I’ll take that as a no.” He smirked but he gave you what you wanted. He began kissing you again and you never wanted him to stop.

[ferrarifwendvale]

Someone QUICK write a blurb or a fanfic inspired by Carlos taking of his crewneck/hoodie and his shirt lifting alndksndksnksdmc

PLEASE I AM BEGGING 😩

[warnermeadowsgirl]

You're Dating Carlos Sainz And This Is Your Camera Roll : PT2

Is it only me or does anyone wanna know his hair care routine

[deltaromeo3]

im open for requests! go crazy (or dont) 🫣

[pucksandpower]

Thicker Than Blood

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc’s Ex!Reader

Summary: you didn’t think things could get worse after your long-time (ex) boyfriend chose his team over you … until you see those two pink lines, but little do you know that his rival will soon prove that a found family can be thicker than blood

Warnings: includes depictions of labor complications and Jos Verstappen

Based on this request

“Charles, this isn’t funny.”

You’re half-smiling, half-laughing, like you’re expecting him to crack any second and say something ridiculous, something that would make you roll your eyes and shake your head at his poor attempt at a joke.

But he doesn’t. He just stands there, his eyes fixed on you with a seriousness that makes your stomach twist.

“Charles,” you repeat, the laugh in your voice now entirely gone. “What are you talking about?”

He runs a hand through his hair, the way he does when he’s trying to find the right words, but they’re all jumbled up in his head. You know this Charles. This is the Charles who struggles when things aren’t easy, when he has to explain something he doesn’t want to. But this … this is different.

“We need to break up.” The words come out so softly, so carefully, like he’s afraid of them. But they hit you hard, a punch in the gut that leaves you breathless.

You blink, trying to process what he’s just said, but it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t fit. You and Charles are solid. You’ve been through everything together — the highs, the lows, the uncertain days before he was anything more than just another young driver trying to make it in the big leagues. And now, after all this time, after everything, he’s telling you this?

You shake your head. “No. No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do,” he says, his voice firmer now, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

“Charles, no,” you say, your voice rising, a mixture of panic and disbelief. “What the hell are you talking about? Where is this coming from?”

He sighs, a long, weary sound, and looks away from you, his gaze falling to the floor as if he can’t bear to meet your eyes. “It’s not what I want,” he says quietly.

“Then why?” You demand, stepping closer to him, trying to catch his eye, to pull him back to you. “Why are you saying this? We’re fine, Charles. We’re good. What’s going on?”

He finally looks at you, and the pain in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat. “It’s not about us,” he says, his voice almost breaking. “It’s … it’s the team. Ferrari.”

“What?” You say, blinking in confusion. “What does Ferrari have to do with us?”

“They … they think it’s better if I’m single,” he says, each word forced out like it’s costing him something. “For my image. For the brand.”

You stare at him, your mouth open, but no words come out. You’re frozen, your mind struggling to catch up to the words he’s just said, to the reality he’s trying to force on you. “You’re breaking up with me … because of Ferrari?”

He nods slowly, miserably, like he hates himself for it. “It’s complicated,” he says, trying to make it sound like it’s not the most absurd thing you’ve ever heard.

“No, it’s not,” you shoot back, the anger finally starting to break through the shock. “This isn’t complicated, Charles. This is insane. You can’t seriously be telling me that you’re ending things because some PR team thinks it’ll be better for your career.”

“They’re not just some PR team,” he says, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice. “They know what they’re doing. They’ve seen the numbers and the trends. They know what’s best for the brand … for me.”

“And what about us?” You ask, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to keep it steady. “What about everything we’ve been through? Everything we’ve built together? You’re just going to throw that away because someone told you to?”

He winces, like your words are physically hurting him, but he doesn’t back down. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you’re choosing your career over me.”

His silence is deafening. You can see the conflict in his eyes, the way he’s struggling with what he’s saying, but he’s not fighting it. He’s not fighting for you, and that realization hits you harder than anything else.

“Why now?” You ask, your voice softer now, the fight starting to drain out of you. “Why are you doing this now?”

“It’s just … it’s the timing,” he says, fumbling for an explanation that makes sense. “The season’s starting, there’s so much pressure. They think it’ll be easier if I’m not-”

“If you’re not what? Tied down?” You snap, the words laced with bitterness. “Is that what they told you? That you’ll be better off without me weighing you down?”

“That’s not how they put it,” he says, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

You feel tears pricking at your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. You won’t cry. Not now. Not here. “Charles, we’ve been together for years,” you say, your voice trembling. “We’ve been through everything together. And now you’re telling me that none of that matters? That all of that gets erased because it doesn’t fit with Ferrari’s brand?”

“I don’t want to do this,” he says, his voice breaking, his eyes pleading with you to understand.

“Then don’t,” you plead back, stepping closer to him, reaching out to take his hand, but he pulls away, and the rejection stings.

“I have to,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

You shake your head, trying to make sense of the senseless. “How can you say that? How can you just … give up on us like this?”

“I’m not giving up,” he insists, but it sounds hollow, even to him. “It’s just … it’s not forever. It’s just for now, just to get through the season. Then we can figure things out, we can-”

“You can’t be serious,” you interrupt, the tears finally spilling over despite your best efforts. “You think I’m just going to wait around for you to decide when it’s convenient for you to be with me again? You think that’s how this works?”

He doesn’t respond, just looks at you with that same pained expression, and it’s enough to break your heart all over again.

“Charles, please,” you whisper, one last attempt to reach him, to get him to see reason, to see you. “Don’t do this. We can figure something out. We always do.”

But he’s already shaking his head, and you know, deep down, that he’s already made up his mind. “I’m sorry,” he says, and you can hear the finality in his voice, the way he’s closing the door on this, on you.

You stare at him, the boy you’ve known for so long, the man you’ve loved for years, and it feels like he’s slipping away from you, like he’s already gone. “You really think this is what’s best for you?” You ask, your voice hollow, defeated.

“It’s not about what’s best for me,” he says, and you almost laugh at the irony of it.

“Then what is it about, Charles?” you ask, but you’re not sure you even want to know the answer.

“It’s about … what’s best for everyone,” he says, but even he doesn’t sound convinced.

You take a step back, the distance between you growing, and it feels like a chasm opening up, one you can’t cross. “I never thought you’d be someone who’d let other people decide what’s best for you,” you say quietly.

He flinches at that, and for a moment, you think you’ve gotten through to him, that he’ll take it back, that he’ll realize how ridiculous this all is. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, looking at you with those sad eyes, and you know it’s over.

“Goodbye, Charles,” you say, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

“Goodbye,” he whispers back, but it’s lost in the sound of your footsteps as you turn and walk away, leaving him — and everything you’ve built together — behind.

***

The morning sun filters through the curtains, casting a soft, golden light over the room, but it does nothing to warm the cold knot in your stomach. You’ve been feeling off for days now — nauseous, tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that sleep doesn’t seem to touch.

And the vomiting. It started a few days ago, just once or twice, but now it’s every morning, like clockwork.

You sit up slowly, careful not to move too fast, but it’s too late. The wave of nausea hits, and you barely make it to the bathroom before you’re hunched over the toilet, retching until there’s nothing left. You stay there for a moment, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to steady your breathing, trying to make sense of what’s happening to you.

It’s just stress, you tell yourself. The breakup, the uncertainty of everything, it’s all finally catching up to you. But even as you think it, you know it’s not true. This is different. This is something else.

You rinse your mouth, the taste of bile lingering, and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look pale, drawn, like you haven’t slept in days. Your eyes are dull, shadows lurking beneath them, and there’s a tightness around your mouth that wasn’t there before. You almost don’t recognize the person staring back at you.

As you leave the bathroom, your mind races through the possibilities, trying to find some logical explanation. Maybe it’s a bug, something you ate. Maybe it’s …

You stop in your tracks, the thought slamming into you with all the subtlety of a freight train. No. It can’t be. It’s impossible. But as you think back, counting the days in your head, you realize it’s not impossible. In fact, it’s very possible.

You sink onto the edge of the bed, your heart pounding in your chest. It’s been weeks since … since Charles broke up with you. Since you last … Oh God.

The realization leaves you cold, your skin prickling with fear. There’s only one way to know for sure, but the very thought of it makes your throat tighten, your heart race even faster.

You can’t. You can’t be.

But there’s a part of you — a small, terrified part — that knows you need to find out. You can’t just ignore this, hope it goes away. You need to know. Now.

The walk to the pharmacy is a blur. You barely register the people around you, the sun beating down on your back as you make your way through the streets. It feels like everyone is looking at you, like they know what you’re about to do, but you push the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Inside, the air is cool, the fluorescent lights harsh as you make your way to the back, where the pregnancy tests are lined up in neat rows. You stand there for what feels like forever, your eyes scanning the shelves, your hand hovering over the different options, but you can’t bring yourself to reach out and grab one.

“Can I help you with something?”

The voice startles you, and you turn to see a woman in a white pharmacy coat standing beside you, her expression polite but curious.

You force a smile, shaking your head. “No, I’m fine. Just … looking.”

She nods, but doesn’t move away, and you feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You need to do this, and you need to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, you grab the first box you see, then another, then a third, just to be sure. You avoid the woman’s gaze as you make your way to the register, your heart hammering in your chest as you hand over the boxes, praying she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t. She just rings you up, sliding the tests into a small paper bag before handing it to you with a neutral smile. “Good luck,” she says, and you can’t tell if she means it or if it’s just something she says to everyone.

“Thanks,” you mumble, grabbing the bag and hurrying out of the store, the door chiming as you leave.

Back in your apartment, the silence is deafening. The tests sit on the counter, staring up at you, and you can’t bring yourself to move, to do what needs to be done. But you know you have to. You can’t put this off any longer.

Finally, you reach for the bag, pulling out one of the boxes, your hands trembling as you tear it open. The instructions are simple enough — pee on the stick, wait three minutes, then check the result. But as you hold the test in your hand, you realize those three minutes are going to be the longest of your life.

You follow the instructions, then set the test on the counter, stepping back like it’s something dangerous, something that could hurt you if you get too close. You glance at the clock, the seconds ticking by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you force yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

But calm is impossible. Your mind is racing, a thousand thoughts and fears tumbling over each other in a chaotic mess. What if it’s positive? What if it’s not? What will you do? How will you handle this? You’re alone now — Charles is gone, and he’s not coming back. You’re on your own.

The minutes crawl by, and finally, you can’t wait any longer. You step forward, your heart in your throat, and pick up the test, your eyes locking onto the small window where the result will appear.

Two lines.

Positive.

You stare at it, uncomprehending, your mind struggling to process what you’re seeing. You pick up the second test, the third, repeating the process with shaking hands, hoping against hope that the first was a mistake, a fluke. But the results are the same. Two lines. Positive.

You’re pregnant.

The realization crashes over you like a wave, and you sink to the floor, the tests clattering out of your hands as you press your palms to your stomach, feeling the beginnings of a life growing inside you. A baby. Charles’ baby.

Tears blur your vision, and you don’t know if they’re from fear, from shock, or from something else entirely. You never thought you’d be here — sitting on your bathroom floor, alone, pregnant, and terrified of what comes next.

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You were supposed to have Charles by your side, holding your hand, telling you everything would be okay.

But he’s not here. And now, you have to figure out what to do next. You have to figure out how to take care of yourself, how to take care of this baby.

You drag yourself to your feet, your legs weak, and stumble into the living room, collapsing onto the couch as the weight of it all presses down on you. How did this happen? How did you end up here, in this mess, with no one to turn to?

Your mind drifts back to the day Charles convinced you to quit your job. He’d said it was for the best, that you didn’t need to work, that he’d take care of you. He wanted you with him at the races, wanted you by his side, supporting him, and you’d agreed, because of course you did. You loved him. You trusted him.

And now … now you have nothing. No job, no income, no safety net. Just a positive pregnancy test and a future that feels terrifyingly uncertain.

You wipe at your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You can’t afford to fall apart. Not now. You have to be strong, for yourself, for the baby. You need to figure out what to do next.

You reach for your phone, your fingers trembling as you pull up a job search website. There has to be something — anything — that can get you back on your feet. But as you scroll through the listings, your heart sinks. You’re overqualified for some, underqualified for others. You haven’t worked in years, and the gaps in your resume feel like gaping wounds that no employer would overlook.

Finally, something catches your eye—an ad for a cleaning agency. It’s not glamorous, it’s not what you imagined for yourself, but it’s work. It’s a start. And right now, that’s all you need.

You tap the number on the screen, your heart racing as you bring the phone to your ear. It rings once, twice, three times, and you start to think no one will pick up. But then, a voice crackles through the line.

“Hello, CleanSweep Agency. How can I help you?”

You swallow hard, your voice trembling as you reply. “Hi, I … I’m calling about the job listing. The cleaning position.”

There’s a pause on the other end, and you hold your breath, waiting.

“Yes, of course. Are you available for an interview tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” you repeat, your mind racing. “Yes. Yes, I can do that.”

“Great. We’ll see you at 10 AM. Our office is on Rue de la Paix. Just bring your resume and any references you might have.”

“Thank you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as the call ends.

You stare at the phone in your hand, the reality of what you’ve just done settling over you. You’ve taken the first step. It’s not much, but it’s something. It’s a start.

But as you sit there, the weight of everything presses down on you again. You’re pregnant. You’re alone. And the path ahead feels impossibly daunting.

You place your phone on the coffee table, staring at it like it might offer you some kind of solution, some way out of this mess. But it’s just a phone, and the reality of your situation doesn’t change.

The room is too quiet, the kind of quiet that seeps into your bones and amplifies every fear, every doubt. You wish you could call someone, talk to someone, but who? Your friends? They’d be supportive, sure, but they wouldn’t really understand. Your parents? The thought of telling them is too overwhelming to even consider right now.

Charles? The name echoes in your mind, but you shake your head. He’s the last person you should be calling. He made his choice, and you need to respect that. Besides, what would you even say? That you’re pregnant? That his decision to break up with you for the sake of his image has left you in a situation neither of you ever expected?

No. You can’t go there. Not now.

You push yourself off the couch, pacing the small living room, trying to clear your mind. You have a job interview tomorrow. It’s not much, but it’s something. You can’t afford to think beyond that right now. You need to focus on getting through the next day, the next hour.

The baby. The thought is like a knife in your chest, sharp and painful. You press a hand to your stomach, trying to imagine what comes next, how you’ll navigate this new, terrifying reality. But the truth is, you have no idea. You’re scared, more scared than you’ve ever been, and the future feels like a black hole, pulling you in with no clear way out.

But you have to keep going. For yourself. For the baby.

You head to the bedroom, opening the closet to find something suitable for the interview. Your clothes feel foreign, relics from a past life that doesn’t quite fit anymore. You settle on something simple, professional, trying to ignore the gnawing fear that none of this will be enough.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the clothes laid out beside you, and take a deep breath. Tomorrow is a new day. A new start. You don’t know what’s coming, but you do know one thing: you’re not going to give up. Not now, not ever.

And as the night settles in around you, you cling to that thought like a lifeline, hoping it will be enough to carry you through whatever comes next.

***

Max pushes open the door to his Monaco apartment, dropping his keys on the console table with a tired sigh. The morning training session has left his muscles aching, and all he can think about is a long, hot shower and maybe a quick nap before the next round of meetings and commitments.

As he steps inside, he’s greeted by the familiar scent of cleaning supplies — a smell that’s become synonymous with Tuesdays, the day his cleaner comes to tidy up.

He doesn’t usually pay much attention to her, exchanging only a few polite words if their paths cross. She’s efficient, quiet, never in the way. But today, something feels different the moment he steps into the living room. The sound of soft scrubbing reaches his ears, and he glances toward the source — his gaze falling on a figure kneeling by the coffee table, wiping down the glass surface.

It takes him a second to register what he’s seeing, but when he does, he freezes, his breath catching in his throat. It’s not just any cleaner — it’s you. And you’re pregnant. Very pregnant.

“Holy shit,” he mutters under his breath, the shock rolling over him in waves. For a moment, he wonders if he’s seeing things, if the exhaustion has finally caught up with him and he’s imagining things. But no — there’s no mistaking it. It’s you, and you’re here, in his apartment, on your hands and knees, cleaning.

You look up at the sound of his voice, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you says anything, both too stunned to speak. Then, slowly, you rise to your feet, one hand resting protectively on your rounded belly as you try to compose yourself.

“Max,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, like you can’t quite believe he’s standing there.

“What … what the hell are you doing here?” He asks, his voice rough with confusion and something else — something darker, angrier, that he can’t quite put into words yet.

You blink, looking down at the rag in your hand as if seeing it for the first time. “I … I work here,” you say quietly, your tone laced with embarrassment.

“Work here?” Max repeats, his mind racing to catch up. “What do you mean, work here? You’re … you’re pregnant! Why the hell are you cleaning my apartment?”

You flinch at his words, and he immediately regrets the sharpness in his tone, but the sight of you — pregnant, exhausted, and clearly struggling — ignites a fury in him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. “What the fuck is Charles doing, making you work like this?”

At the mention of Charles, something in you seems to break. Your face crumples, and before Max can process what’s happening, you’re crying — really crying, your shoulders shaking with the force of your sobs.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Max says quickly, closing the distance between you and reaching out to steady you. “I didn’t mean to — look, just sit down, okay? You shouldn’t be on your feet like this.”

You let him guide you to the couch, your tears falling freely now, and Max feels a pang of guilt deep in his chest. He’s never been good with tears, but seeing you like this, so vulnerable and hurt, stirs something protective in him.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs, your hands covering your face as if trying to hide your pain. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Max sits beside you, his mind spinning as he tries to make sense of what’s happening. This is all wrong. You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be working some labor-intensive job, not in your condition. And where the hell is Charles in all of this? How could he let you get to this point?

“What’s going on?” Max asks gently, reaching for a box of tissues and handing it to you. “Why are you working here? What happened with Charles?”

You take a tissue, dabbing at your eyes, but the tears keep coming, and Max’s concern deepens. He’s never seen you like this before — so defeated, so broken.

“It’s … it’s over,” you manage to say, your voice trembling. “Charles and I… we broke up. Seven months ago.”

Max’s heart drops at your words, and a sick feeling churns in his stomach. He’d heard rumors, of course — whispers in the paddock, speculation in the media — but he’d never imagined it was true. He’d seen how much Charles loved you, how much you meant to him. But now, seeing you like this, the reality of it hits him like a punch to the gut.

“Why?” He asks, though he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

You take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “He said … he said it was for the best. That the team thought he’d be more marketable if he was single. That it would be better for his image.”

Max feels a surge of anger flare up inside him, hot and fierce. “He broke up with you because of PR? Are you kidding me?”

You nod, and Max can see the pain in your eyes, the betrayal that still lingers there. “I didn’t know what to do. I … I didn’t have a job. I quit when we started traveling together, and now … now I’m on my own. I have to take care of myself, and …” You glance down at your belly, your voice breaking again. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Max runs a hand through his hair, trying to process everything you’ve just told him. Charles left you — pregnant and alone — all because of some bullshit advice from his team? The thought makes his blood boil. He’s known Charles for years, seen him under pressure, seen him at his best and his worst, but this … this is something else entirely.

“Does he even know?” Max asks, his voice low, trying to keep his temper in check. “Does he know you’re pregnant?”

You shake your head, fresh tears spilling over. “I haven’t told him. I couldn’t … I couldn’t face him. And I don’t want to force him into something he doesn’t want. He made his choice.”

Max sits back, stunned. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. You’ve been going through this all on your own, with no support, no help. And now you’re cleaning apartments just to make ends meet? It’s too much. He can’t let this go on.

“Listen,” Max says, his voice firm, though he softens it when he sees the way you’re looking at him, like you’re about to fall apart. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? You shouldn’t have to.”

You look at him, eyes wide, searching his face as if trying to figure out if he means it. “Max, I don’t want to be a burden-”

“You’re not,” he interrupts, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re not a burden. You’re my friend. And you’re … you’re carrying a child. That’s not something you should be dealing with on your own.”

“But what about Charles?” You ask, your voice small, uncertain.

“Fuck Charles,” Max snaps, then immediately regrets it when he sees the look on your face. “I mean … look, I know this is complicated. But right now, you need to take care of yourself and the baby. That’s the priority. And if Charles isn’t going to step up, then I will. Whatever you need, I’m here, okay?”

You’re silent for a moment, and Max can see the conflict in your eyes — the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. He wishes he could do more, that he could take away the pain, the uncertainty, but all he can do is be there for you, in whatever way you’ll let him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I … I didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Max says gently. “Just … promise me you won’t try to do this on your own anymore. You’re not alone, okay? Not as long as I’m around.”

You nod, but Max can see the hesitation still lingering in your eyes. He knows this isn’t going to be easy for you — to accept help, to let someone else in — but he’s determined to be there for you, to make sure you don’t have to face this alone.

“Come on,” he says, standing up and holding out a hand to you. “Let’s get you something to eat. You need to take care of yourself, and that means no more scrubbing floors, okay?”

You take his hand, allowing him to help you to your feet, and for the first time since he walked through the door, Max sees a faint glimmer of hope in your eyes. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

As he leads you to the kitchen, Max’s mind races with everything he needs to do, everything he needs to figure out. But one thing is clear — he’s not going to let you go through this alone.

***

Max sets a plate in front of you — a simple sandwich, some fruit on the side. He’s not exactly a chef, but it’s something, and he watches as you take a bite, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. You look exhausted, and Max wonders how long you’ve been running on empty like this.

He pulls out the chair across from you and sits down, his eyes never leaving your face. “So,” he begins, trying to keep his tone light, “tell me everything. What’s been going on since … since Charles, you know …”

You pause, swallowing the bite of sandwich, and Max can see the flicker of pain in your eyes at the mention of Charles. It’s like you’re bracing yourself to tell the story, and Max hates that it’s something you even have to relive.

“It’s been … hard,” you admit, setting the sandwich down. “After we broke up, I didn’t know what to do. I had some savings, but it wasn’t enough to keep living in Monaco. So I had to move.”

“Move?” Max echoes, his brows furrowing. He hadn’t heard anything about this, hadn’t realized things had gotten so bad for you. “Where did you go?”

You hesitate, as if ashamed to tell him, but then you sigh, the words spilling out in a rush. “I found a small place in France. It’s about an hour away. A tiny village. I couldn’t afford to stay here, not without a steady income.”

Max feels a pang of guilt, like he should have known, should have done something sooner. “You’re commuting to Monaco every day for work? That’s crazy.”

You shrug, a faint, humorless smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not ideal, but it’s what I had to do. I tried looking for jobs closer to home, but nothing paid enough. And I didn’t have many options, not with the baby coming.”

Max leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The thought of you struggling like this, traveling back and forth every day, working a physically demanding job while pregnant — it’s almost too much to bear.

He wishes he could just write you a check, cover all your expenses, but he knows you too well. You’d never accept it, not without a fight. You’re proud, stubborn, and fiercely independent — qualities Max admires but wishes you’d set aside just this once.

“You shouldn’t have to do this alone,” Max says softly, his voice filled with concern. “I know you’re strong, but you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Especially not now.”

You meet his gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and exhaustion. “I know, but … I need to be able to take care of myself, Max. I need to know I can do this, for me and the baby.”

Max nods, understanding even though it frustrates him. You’ve always been this way — determined to stand on your own two feet, no matter what. But that doesn’t mean he’s just going to stand by and watch you struggle. There has to be a way to help you without making you feel like a charity case.

Then, an idea starts to form in his mind, something he remembers from the past, from the days when you were always by Charles’ side, supporting him in ways most people never even saw. “You know,” Max starts, leaning forward, “I remember how you used to help Charles with his social media. His accounts were always engaging, relatable … fans loved it. That was you, wasn’t it?”

A small smile flickers across your face, the first genuine one he’s seen since he got home. “Yeah, that was me. Charles never really cared about social media, so I took it over. It was fun, in a way, creating content that connected with people.”

Max’s heart lifts at your smile, at the spark of something familiar in your eyes. This could work. This could be exactly what you need.

“Well, I’ve got an idea,” Max says, trying to sound casual even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “Right now, Red Bull’s PR team handles all of my social media. I’ve never really been into it, you know? But honestly, they’re pretty … corporate. The posts are fine, but they don’t really have that personal touch. Not like what you did for Charles.”

You’re watching him now, curiosity piqued, and Max takes that as a good sign.

“What if,” Max continues, “you took over my social media? I mean, I’ve seen what you can do. The fans love that kind of content. You could work from home, set your own hours … it wouldn’t be physically demanding, and I’d pay you well. I mean, really well.”

Your eyes widen at his offer, and for a moment, you just stare at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s serious. “I don’t know … I’ve never done that professionally. It was just something I did to help Charles.”

“And you did it better than most professionals,” Max insists. “Look, I’m not asking you to do anything crazy. Just … think about it. You’d be helping me out too, you know? I could really use someone who gets what the fans want, who can make my social media feel more … real.”

You bite your lip, clearly torn. “I don’t know, Max. It’s a lot to take in.”

“I get that,” Max says quickly, not wanting to push too hard but also not wanting to let this go. “Just … think about it, okay? You’d be great at it. And it would mean you don’t have to keep doing jobs that are hard on your body. You could focus on the baby, on yourself. It’s just an idea, but I think it could work.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your gaze dropping to the plate in front of you as you consider his offer. Max waits, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping he hasn’t overstepped, hoping you’ll see this for what it is — a chance, an opportunity to take some of the weight off your shoulders.

Finally, you look up, and Max can see the conflict in your eyes. “I appreciate it, Max. Really, I do. It’s just … it’s a big change, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.”

“I get that,” Max says, his voice gentle. “But you don’t have to decide right now. Take some time, think it over. I just want you to know that the offer’s there. No pressure, no strings attached. Just … a way to make things a little easier for you.”

You nod slowly, your fingers toying with the edge of the napkin on the table. “I’ll think about it,” you finally say, your voice soft but sincere. “I really will.”

Max feels a rush of relief at your words, and he can’t help the small smile that tugs at his lips. “That’s all I ask. And, in the meantime, you can stay here tonight. No more commuting back and forth, okay?”

You start to protest, but Max cuts you off before you can even get the words out. “No arguments. You’re staying here. I’ve got plenty of room, and you shouldn’t be traveling so much. Just … stay, and we’ll figure things out together.”

You open your mouth to argue, but something in Max’s expression must convince you otherwise, because you close it again and nod. “Okay,” you agree, though you still look a little uncertain.

Max stands up, picking up the empty plates from the table. “Good. Now, you get some rest, and we’ll talk more in the morning.”

As he carries the plates to the sink, he feels a strange mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Anger at Charles for putting you in this situation, frustration that you’re too proud to accept help, and something else — something deeper, a fierce determination to make sure you and the baby are taken care of, no matter what.

He doesn’t know what the future holds, doesn’t know how things will play out between you and Charles, but one thing is certain: he’s not going to let you go through this alone. You’ve been there for him in the past, supporting Charles, cheering Max on from the sidelines, and now it’s his turn to be there for you.

As he turns off the kitchen light and heads to his room, he makes a silent vow to himself. Whatever it takes, he’s going to make sure you’re okay. He’s going to be the friend you need, the support you deserve, and he’s not going to let you down. Not now, not ever.

***

Max enters his apartment, the familiar sounds of his footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor. He’s looking forward to a quiet evening, maybe some time with his cats before bed. But when he steps into the living room, he stops in his tracks.

There you are, stretched out on his couch, resting. Jimmy and Sassy have claimed spots on either side of you. Jimmy’s large frame is draped over your legs, purring softly, while Sassy is curled up protectively near your stomach, her eyes half-closed but alert. The sight is so domestic, so peaceful, that it makes something tighten in Max’s chest. It’s a scene he’s never imagined but now, seeing it, it feels … right.

He’s struck by how well you fit here, in his home, in his life. The way you’ve naturally fallen into this space, as if you’ve always belonged. There’s something about the way you’re lying there, with Jimmy and Sassy close by, that tugs at his heart. He wonders if they sense the life growing inside you, if they somehow understand the significance of the new presence in the apartment.

Max approaches quietly, not wanting to disturb the serene moment. He can see now that you’ve fallen asleep, your breathing slow and steady, a slight smile playing on your lips. You look peaceful, more so than you have since you arrived. It’s a relief to see you like this, to know you’re finally resting.

He stands there for a moment, just watching. He’s not sure how long he’s been standing there, time seems to stretch as he takes in the scene. There’s something intimate about it, something that makes him feel protective, like he’s responsible for making sure you and the baby are safe, comfortable. He’s not sure when that shift happened, when he started to care so deeply, but it’s undeniable now.

Carefully, Max leans down and gently scoops you into his arms, trying not to wake you. You stir slightly, mumbling something in your sleep, but then settle back down, your head resting against his chest. Max holds his breath, half-expecting you to wake up and question what he’s doing, but you remain blissfully unaware, lost in whatever dream you’re having.

He’s careful as he carries you down the hallway to the guest room, taking slow, measured steps so he doesn’t jostle you too much. It’s strange, carrying you like this. Not that you’re heavy — far from it — but the weight of responsibility he feels is almost overwhelming. You’re so vulnerable right now, so trusting, and it makes Max even more determined to make sure you’re okay.

When he reaches the guest room, Max pushes the door open with his foot, grateful that it’s already ajar. He steps inside, the soft light from the hallway spilling into the room. The bed is already made, and Max lowers you onto it gently, careful not to disturb your sleep.

He takes a moment to tuck the blanket around you, making sure you’re comfortable. You murmur something again, shifting slightly, and Max freezes, worried he might have woken you. But you just settle deeper into the bed, sighing contentedly, still fast asleep.

Max lingers for a moment, his hand hovering near your face. He’s not sure what compels him to do it, but he finds himself leaning down, pressing a soft, hesitant kiss to your forehead. It’s a simple gesture, one filled with a mix of affection, protectiveness, and something else he can’t quite put into words. He pulls back quickly, almost embarrassed by the tenderness of it, but you don’t wake.

He steps back, watching you for a moment longer. You look so peaceful, and Max feels a strange sense of contentment, like he’s done something right for once. The day’s exhaustion is starting to catch up with him, but he can’t quite bring himself to leave the room just yet.

There’s something about the way you’re sleeping, surrounded by warmth and comfort, that makes him feel … happy. It’s a feeling he’s not used to, but one he finds himself embracing more and more as time goes on.

Finally, Max turns and quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He heads back to the living room, where Jimmy and Sassy are still curled up on the couch, seemingly unbothered by the absence of their human pillow. Max sinks into the armchair across from them, running a hand through his hair as he tries to process everything that’s happened today.

He thinks back to the offer he made you earlier, wondering if you’ll actually take him up on it. Part of him worries that you’ll say no, that you’ll insist on doing everything yourself, but he hopes that maybe, just maybe, you’ll realize that accepting help doesn’t make you weak.

Max has never been good with words, but he meant everything he said. He wants to help you, to make things easier for you, and not just because he feels responsible. There’s something deeper at play here, something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s there all the same.

He’s never been in a situation like this before, never had someone depend on him in this way, and it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. Max isn’t sure what the future holds, but for the first time in a long time, he feels like he’s on the right path, like he’s doing something that actually matters.

As he sits there, the sounds of the city outside muted by the thick walls of the apartment, Max lets himself imagine what it would be like if this became a regular thing — if you stayed, if you became a part of his life, more than just a guest in his home. The thought sends a wave of warmth through him, a sense of belonging that he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.

But he pushes the thought aside, not wanting to get ahead of himself. One step at a time. First, he needs to make sure you’re okay, make sure you’re taken care of. Everything else can come later.

Max finally gets up from the armchair, heading to his own bedroom. The day’s events have left him drained, both physically and emotionally, and he knows he needs rest if he’s going to be any good to you tomorrow.

As he climbs into bed, pulling the covers over himself, Max’s thoughts drift back to you, sleeping soundly in the guest room just down the hall. He hopes you’re dreaming of something peaceful, something that takes your mind off all the worries you’ve been carrying.

And as he closes his eyes, the last image that flits through his mind is of you, smiling softly in your sleep, with Jimmy and Sassy curled up protectively around you. It’s a good image, one that brings a small, contented smile to his own lips as he finally drifts off to sleep.

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, Max feels like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

***

The smell of coffee fills the kitchen, mingling with the soft morning light that streams through the windows. Max is already at the table, scrolling through his phone, but he looks up as you enter, offering a small, warm smile. He’s still not quite used to this — having someone else here in his space, sharing these quiet moments — but it feels right in a way he hadn’t expected.

“Morning,” he says, his voice a little rough from sleep. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better,” you admit, reaching for the kettle to make your own cup of tea. “Thanks for … everything yesterday.”

Max waves it off, trying to seem nonchalant, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes — concern, maybe, or something deeper. “You needed it,” he says simply. “And it’s not over yet. We still need to talk about that job offer.”

You nod, pouring hot water over the tea bag and watching as the steam rises. “I’ve been thinking about it,” you start, your voice hesitant. “And … I think I want to accept it.”

Max feels a surge of relief, though he tries not to show it. ��You sure? No pressure, if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I’m sure.” You take a seat across from him, your hands wrapped around the warm mug. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. I need something … something to focus on that doesn’t involve cleaning floors or worrying about everything all the time. Plus, it’s something I know I can do. And I’ll be able to take care of myself, of the baby, without pushing myself too hard.”

Max nods, his relief turning into something warmer, almost like pride. “Good,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I’m glad you’re taking it. I think you’ll be great at it.”

There’s a pause, the two of you just sipping your drinks in comfortable silence. But Max can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this, that there’s something else you need but aren’t asking for.

“So,” he begins carefully, “where are you planning on staying? I mean, if you’re going to be working for me … you’re going to need somewhere closer than … wherever you’ve been staying.”

You look up, caught off guard. “I … I hadn’t thought about that yet. I was planning on going back to France and just-”

“Stay here,” Max interrupts, surprising even himself with how quickly the words come out. “I mean, it makes sense, right? You wouldn’t have to travel so far every day. Plus, it’s safer for you and the baby. You’ll have everything you need, and I’ll be around to help if you need anything.”

You hesitate, clearly torn. “I don’t want to be a burden, Max. You’ve already done so much-”

“You’re not a burden,” Max says firmly. “You’re my friend, and you need help. It’s that simple.”

There’s a long pause as you consider his words, weighing your options. Finally, you sigh, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll stay. But only until I figure things out.”

Max grins, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. “Deal.”

There’s a moment of shared relief before Max’s mind drifts to a more practical matter. “Right, so … there’s one more thing,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t really have much in the fridge besides, like, trainer-approved meals and protein shakes. We’re gonna need to do some shopping.”

You laugh softly, the first genuine laugh he’s heard from you in what feels like forever. “Okay, I guess we should take care of that then.”

Max stands, grabbing his keys from the counter. “Let’s go before it gets too busy.”

***

The grocery store is bustling with the mid-morning crowd, but there’s something oddly comforting about the normalcy of it all. Max pushes the cart as you walk beside him, selecting fruits and vegetables, adding them to the growing pile.

Max watches you closely, noting the way your shoulders relax a little as you focus on the mundane task of picking out produce. He’s glad to see you like this — calm, in control. You seem to know exactly what you need, even as you pause occasionally to consider an item before adding it to the cart.

“Max,” you ask after a moment, turning to him with a slight frown, “do you even like any of this stuff, or am I just buying what I want?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll eat whatever, really. Just make sure there’s enough for you and the baby.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “You know more about this stuff than I do, anyway.”

You give him a small smile, but it’s clear that the reality of your situation is still weighing heavily on you. Max wants to say something reassuring, but before he can find the right words, someone else does it for him.

“Y/N?”

The voice comes from behind you, and you both turn to see Pascale Leclerc standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with shock. She looks between you and Max, her gaze lingering on your rounded belly before returning to your face. “I …I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest. “Pascale,” you manage to say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi.”

Pascale takes a step closer, her expression shifting from surprise to concern. “You’re … pregnant?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief. “What happened? Charles said you broke up with him-”

You shake your head, your throat tightening. “No, Pascale. I didn’t break up with him. He … he broke up with me. Said it was because of the PR team at Ferrari. They thought he’d be more marketable if he was single.”

Pascale’s eyes widen in horror. “What? He told me … he told me it was mutual, that you both agreed it was for the best.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you shake your head again. “No, it wasn’t mutual. It wasn’t my choice.”

Max, who’s been standing silently beside you, finally speaks up, his voice filled with anger on your behalf. “Charles lied to you, Pascale. He left her, and he doesn’t even know she’s pregnant.”

Pascale’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes welling with tears. “Oh, mon Dieu,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “I had no idea. Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Please, Pascale,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “please don’t tell Charles about the baby. I … I don’t want him to know.”

Pascale looks at you, torn, but eventually nods. “Okay. I won’t tell him,” she promises, her voice gentle but firm. “But …Y/N, I want to be a part of my grandchild’s life. I want to be there for you, for both of you.”

The sincerity in her voice breaks down the last of your defenses, and you find yourself nodding, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “Okay,” you manage to say, your voice choked with emotion. “I … I’d like that.”

Pascale steps forward, wrapping you in a gentle hug. “You’re not alone, ma chérie,” she whispers, her voice soothing. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

You cling to her for a moment, taking comfort in her words, before finally pulling back. “Thank you,” you say, wiping at your eyes. “Thank you so much.”

Max, who’s been watching the interaction with a mixture of relief and concern, gently places a hand on your back. “We should finish up,” he says softly, giving Pascale a nod. “Take care, Pascale.”

Pascale smiles through her own tears, giving Max a grateful look. “You too, Max. And Y/N … call me if you need anything. Anytime.”

You nod, giving her a small, shaky smile before turning back to the cart. As you and Max continue shopping, the weight of the encounter settles over you, leaving you emotionally drained. Max notices, his usual silence becoming a source of comfort as he quietly takes over, finishing up the shopping and paying for everything without another word.

***

The drive back to Max’s apartment is quiet, the earlier lightness of the morning replaced by a heavy, lingering tension. You stare out the window, lost in thought, replaying the encounter with Pascale over and over in your mind.

By the time you reach the apartment, you’re exhausted — physically and emotionally. Max parks the car and helps you carry the groceries inside, his movements careful and deliberate as if he’s trying to shield you from any further stress.

Once everything is put away, Max leads you to the living room, where you sink onto the couch, your body sagging with relief. He sits beside you, watching as you struggle to hold back tears, and finally, the dam breaks.

You bury your face in his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably, all the fear and uncertainty and pain you’ve been holding in finally spilling out. Max wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his hand gently rubbing your back as he whispers soothing words into your ear.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice steady and calm. “Let it out. I’m here.”

You cry until there are no tears left, until you’re too exhausted to do anything but lean against Max, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your sobs. Max doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just keeps holding you as if his presence alone can shield you from everything that’s gone wrong.

When you finally pull back, your eyes are red and puffy, your face wet with tears. “Sorry,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t apologize,” Max interrupts gently, his voice soft but firm. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re going through a lot, and you don’t have to hold it all in.”

You nod, still feeling raw and exposed, but there’s something comforting in the way Max is looking at you — like he’s not judging you, like he genuinely cares.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Max offers you a small smile, his hand still resting on your back. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he says. “I’m here, okay? And I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks, the weight of his words hanging in the air. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and Max watches as you slowly regain some of your composure.

“Do you want to rest?” He asks after a moment, his voice filled with concern. “You’ve had a long day.”

You shake your head, wiping the last of the tears from your face. “No, I’m okay. I think I just need to … distract myself.”

Max nods, understanding. “Okay,” he says, standing up and offering you his hand. “How about we make dinner? Something simple, but better than those pre-prepared meals.”

You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Yeah,” you say, your voice steadier now. “That sounds good.”

***

Cooking with Max is surprisingly easy. He’s not much of a chef, but he’s attentive and eager to help, following your lead as you guide him through the steps of preparing a simple pasta dish. The kitchen fills with the comforting aroma of garlic and herbs, and for a while, you lose yourself in the routine of chopping vegetables and stirring sauces, the earlier tension easing with every moment.

Max watches you closely, noticing the way your movements become more relaxed as you focus on the task at hand. He’s relieved to see you like this — more at ease, more like yourself.

“I didn’t know you could cook,” Max comments as he carefully stirs the pasta in the pot, a hint of admiration in his voice.

You shrug, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I used to cook a lot,” you say, your tone a little wistful. “Before everything got … complicated.”

Max doesn’t push for more, sensing that you’re not ready to delve into the past just yet. Instead, he focuses on the present, on the simple pleasure of cooking together, the warmth of the kitchen, the shared sense of purpose.

By the time dinner is ready, the earlier tension has all but disappeared, replaced by a quiet, comforting camaraderie. You and Max sit at the table, eating in companionable silence, the simple meal a balm for your frayed nerves.

After dinner, you help Max clean up, the two of you working together in easy harmony. There’s something oddly soothing about the domesticity of it all — like a glimpse of a life you hadn’t dared to hope for, a life where things could be simple, where you didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.

When everything is finally cleaned up, Max suggests watching a movie, and you agree, grateful for the chance to keep your mind occupied. You settle onto the couch with him, his cats Jimmy and Sassy immediately curling up beside you, their soft purring a comforting background noise.

Max flips through the options on his streaming service, eventually landing on an action movie. “This okay?” He asks, glancing at you.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding. “Something mindless sounds perfect right now.”

The movie starts, and for the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in the fast-paced action, the explosions and car chases providing a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own life. Max is a solid, comforting presence beside you, and for a while, you let yourself believe that everything might actually be okay.

When the movie ends, you realize how exhausted you are, the emotional rollercoaster of the day finally catching up with you. Max notices too, and he turns to you with a concerned look.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, his voice gentle. “It’s been a long day.”

You nod, not having the energy to argue. “Yeah. I think I will.”

Max helps you to your feet, and you can feel his eyes on you as you make your way to the guest room. Before you can close the door behind you, he stops you with a soft, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You pause, looking back at him. “Goodnight, Max. And … thank you. For everything.”

Max smiles, a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “Just get some rest.”

You nod, giving him a small smile before closing the door behind you.

Once inside the guest room, you sink onto the bed, finally letting out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The room is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside.

You lie down, pulling the blankets over you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to relax, to let go of the constant worry and fear, if only for a little while.

As you drift off to sleep, the events of the day swirl in your mind — Pascale’s unexpected appearance, Max’s unwavering support, the strange comfort of being here, in this place that’s starting to feel like home.

And somewhere, deep in your heart, a tiny seed of hope begins to take root.

***

The apartment smells of freshly baked cake and anticipation. Max is in the kitchen, moving about with a nervous energy, double-checking everything — again. The cake is already on the counter, perfectly frosted, with a single pink and blue question mark piped on top. The knife lies beside it, waiting for the moment that feels almost too monumental to be happening in the cozy confines of his living room.

You’re sitting on the couch, absentmindedly stroking Jimmy and Sassy, who have taken up their usual positions on either side of you. Your hand rests protectively over your rounded belly, feeling the slight flutters of movement from the baby. Despite the warmth of the room, your fingers are cold, a mix of nerves and excitement pulsing through you.

“Everything’s ready,” Max says, breaking the silence. He’s trying to sound casual, but you can hear the edge in his voice.

You offer him a small smile, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Max. For everything.”

He just nods, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer before turning back to the cake. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite read — something beyond just friendship and support. But before you can dwell on it, there’s a knock at the door.

Max visibly relaxes, glad for the distraction. “I’ll get it,” he says, moving to the door and pulling it open.

Pascale is the first to step inside, her smile warm as she takes in the sight of you. “Ma chérie,” she greets, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you reply, feeling a genuine warmth at seeing her. Pascale has been a rock for you since she found out about the pregnancy, offering support and reassurance in a way that makes you feel less alone.

Lorenzo and Arthur follow her in, both of them grinning widely as they approach you. “Hey,” Lorenzo says, giving you a quick hug. “Excited?”

“Nervous,” you admit, glancing over at the cake. “But excited too.”

Arthur chuckles, nudging his brother. “She’s having a girl, I can feel it. I’m gonna win the bet.”

Lorenzo rolls his eyes. “You always say that, but I’ve got a good feeling this time. I’m thinking boy.”

Max laughs, shaking his head as he closes the door behind them. “You two and your bets,” he says. “Let’s just focus on what’s important, yeah?”

Pascale gives him a knowing look, but doesn’t say anything, instead turning to you with a soft smile. “You look lovely, dear,” she says, reaching out to gently touch your arm. “And glowing.”

You feel a flush of warmth at her words, though part of you still feels a bit of that anxiety knotting in your stomach. This is Charles’ family, after all, and the weight of what’s unsaid lingers in the air between you.

Max clears his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to the cake. “Shall we?” He asks, looking at you with an encouraging smile.

You take a deep breath and nod, standing up and moving over to the counter. Max stands close beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. The others gather around, their faces expectant, and you feel the weight of the moment settle over you.

“Here we go,” you say softly, picking up the knife. Your hands tremble slightly, and Max’s hand comes to rest on yours, steadying it. You glance up at him, and he gives you a small nod.

You press the knife into the cake, cutting through the soft layers until you reach the center. The room holds its breath as you pull the slice away, revealing the color inside.

It’s pink.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Pascale lets out a delighted gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “A girl!” She exclaims, her eyes shining with joy. “You’re having a little girl!”

Lorenzo and Arthur start laughing, both of them shaking their heads in mock disbelief. “I told you,” Arthur says, clapping his brother on the back. “Looks like you owe me fifty euros.”

But you barely register their words. Your eyes are fixed on the cake, on the pink filling that seems to glow with its own light. You’re having a daughter. The realization hits you like a wave, overwhelming and beautiful, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

Max sees the tears and reacts instinctively. He turns toward you, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “Hey, hey,” he murmurs, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “It’s okay. It’s good news, right?”

You nod, laughing through the tears. “Yeah,” you say, your voice trembling. “It’s just …a lot.”

And then, before either of you can think, Max leans in and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft, hesitant, as if he’s not sure if he should be doing this. But then you kiss him back, and something shifts, deepening the moment. It feels like the world falls away, like it’s just the two of you, and everything else fades into the background.

When Max pulls back, his eyes wide with the realization of what he’s just done, he starts to apologize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

You shake your head, cutting him off. “Don’t,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm. “I liked it.”

Max searches your eyes, looking for any hint of doubt or regret, but all he sees is the truth in your words. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I liked it too,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

The moment between you is tender and full of unspoken feelings, but it’s broken by the sound of Pascale clearing her throat. You both turn to see her watching you, a knowing smile on her face.

“Ah,” she says, her tone gentle but teasing. “I see.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, but Pascale just smiles wider, moving closer to you. “Ma chérie,” she says, taking your hands in hers. “I want you and my granddaughter to be happy. That’s all I care about.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you squeeze her hands in return. “Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice thick with emotion.

Pascale nods, glancing over at Max. “And I can see that Max will stop at nothing to make sure that happens.”

Max looks a little embarrassed, but he meets Pascale’s gaze with a quiet determination. “I promise,” he says, his voice steady. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Lorenzo and Arthur exchange glances, both of them grinning like idiots. “Well, this just got interesting,” Lorenzo quips, earning a light smack on the arm from Pascale.

“Behave,” she admonishes, though there’s a twinkle in her eye. “This is a celebration.”

You can’t help but laugh, the tension that had been building in your chest finally breaking. It’s a strange, wonderful feeling, being surrounded by people who genuinely care, who want what’s best for you and your baby. And as you look around the room — at Max, at Pascale, at Lorenzo and Arthur — you realize that maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and conversation. Pascale insists on taking a thousand pictures of you with the cake, with Max, with everyone, and by the time she’s done, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Lorenzo and Arthur argue good-naturedly over baby names, each of them convinced they have the best suggestion, while Max listens with a bemused smile.

Eventually, the party winds down, and Lorenzo and Arthur say their goodbyes, promising to visit again soon. Pascale lingers a little longer, giving you one last hug before she leaves.

“Remember,” she says as she pulls back, her eyes warm and full of affection. “I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

You nod, feeling a swell of gratitude. “I know. Thank you.”

Pascale smiles and gives Max a quick hug as well before finally making her exit, leaving the two of you alone in the apartment.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Max turns to you, his expression softening. “How are you feeling?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day settle over you. “Tired,” you admit, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. “But … happy.”

Max smiles, and it’s the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Good,” he says simply.

You look at him, at the man who has done so much for you in such a short amount of time, and you feel something shift inside you — something that scares you a little, but that also feels like hope.

“Max,” you begin, your voice uncertain. “About earlier-”

He cuts you off with a shake of his head. “You don’t have to say anything,” he says. “I just want you to be comfortable, to do what feels right for you.”

You nod, appreciating his understanding. “I just … I don’t know what I’m doing,” you admit, your voice small. “But I know I don’t want to push you away.”

Max’s eyes soften, and he takes a step closer to you. “You won’t,” he says, his voice gentle but certain. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? We’ll figure this out together.”

You take comfort in his words, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You’ve been so used to handling everything on your own, and the thought of having someone beside you, someone who genuinely cares, feels like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed.

“Okay,” you whisper, meeting his gaze. The air between you is charged, filled with the weight of unspoken possibilities.

Max reaches out, hesitating for a brief moment before gently cupping your cheek. His thumb brushes against your skin, and you lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through you. It’s as if time slows down, the world outside of Max’s apartment fading away until there’s only the two of you, standing close enough to share the same breath.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Max murmurs, his voice low and earnest. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you and the baby are safe, happy, and loved.”

You search his eyes, finding only honesty there, a depth of emotion that takes you by surprise. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of connection, this certainty that you’re not alone.

“Thank you,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

Max shakes his head slightly, as if to say there’s no need to thank him, but you know better. You know how much he’s done, how much he’s given, and you feel a rush of gratitude so powerful it almost overwhelms you.

Without thinking, you close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. Max holds you just as tightly, his chin resting on top of your head, and for a moment, everything feels right. The world outside, the uncertainty of the future — it all fades away, leaving just the comfort of his arms around you.

After a few moments, you pull back slightly, looking up at him. There’s something in his eyes that makes your heart skip a beat, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a soft, tentative kiss to his lips.

This time, there’s no hesitation. Max kisses you back with a gentle intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, his hands cradling your face as if you’re something precious, something he’s afraid to break.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Max’s eyes are dark with emotion, and he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world.

“Stay,” he whispers, his voice rough with need. “Stay with me. Let me take care of you.”

You nod, your heart pounding in your chest. “Okay,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “I will.”

Max’s expression softens into a smile, one that lights up his entire face. He leans down and presses another kiss to your forehead, a promise in the simple gesture.

“Good,” he says, his voice full of quiet joy. “That’s good.”

You smile back at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that you haven’t felt in a long time. With Max by your side, it feels like maybe, just maybe, everything is going to be okay. As you both stand there, the quiet of the apartment wrapping around you like a cocoon, you realize that this — right here, right now — is the start of something new, something beautiful.

***

It’s early morning, the kind where the light hasn’t yet broken through the curtains, and the apartment is still wrapped in the quiet hush of dawn. You’re half-awake, swimming in that space between sleep and consciousness when you hear it — Max’s voice, low and soothing.

You keep your eyes closed, letting the sound wash over you, not wanting to break the spell. His words are soft, like he’s speaking to the most delicate thing in the world, and you realize he’s talking to your belly.

“Morning, little one,” Max whispers, his voice full of warmth. You feel the slight movement of his hand on your stomach, gentle and comforting. “Did you sleep well? I hope you’re taking it easy on your mama.”

You can’t help the small smile that curves your lips, but you stay still, wanting to hear more. There’s something so tender, so intimate about this moment, and you don’t want to interrupt it.

Max continues, his tone playful now. “You know, I’ve been thinking … you’re going to need a name for me, right? Something special. How about Maxie? Does that sound good to you?” He pauses, as if waiting for an answer. “Or maybe, one day, you’ll call me Papa. I’d really like that.”

Your heart swells, and you feel a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the blanket you’re curled under. Max’s words are like a promise, one that wraps around both you and the baby, binding you together in a way that feels unshakable.

He continues to talk, his voice filled with love and a hint of wonder, as if he still can’t quite believe this is real. “I can’t wait to meet you, you know. To see your little face, your tiny hands … I’m going to be right here, every step of the way. I promise. You and your mama … you’re my world now.”

You feel the gentle pressure of his lips as he presses a kiss to your stomach, and it sends a shiver through you, a mix of emotion that you can’t quite put into words. It’s the kind of feeling that settles deep in your chest, making you want to cry and smile at the same time.

Max shifts slightly, and you feel him lay his head next to your stomach, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll be here to teach you all the important things, like how to kick a football or how to drive really fast — though, your mama might not like that last one,” he chuckles softly, and you have to bite your lip to keep from giggling.

“And I’ll be here for the hard stuff too,” Max continues, his tone growing serious. “I’ll make sure you’re safe, and that you always know how loved you are. Because you’re already so loved, little one. So much.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your eyes sting with unshed tears. You can feel the depth of his commitment, the way he’s already made space in his heart for this child, and it’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

Max falls quiet for a moment, his hand still resting on your belly. You can feel his thumb tracing small circles over your skin, like he’s trying to memorize the feeling. “I know I’m not your real dad,” he says quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “But I’m going to love you like you’re mine. And I’m going to love your mama with everything I have, because she deserves that. She deserves everything.”

Your heart clenches at his words, a rush of emotion so strong it nearly takes your breath away. You’ve never felt so cared for, so deeply cherished, and it’s all because of him — this man who has stepped into your life and turned it upside down in the most unexpected, wonderful way.

Max leans in closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “I promise, I’ll always be here for you. For both of you. And I hope, one day, you’ll call me Papa. But even if you don’t, I’ll still be the luckiest man in the world, just to be here with you.”

You can’t keep your eyes closed any longer. They flutter open, and you glance down at him, your heart full to bursting. Max looks up, catching your gaze, and there’s a moment of quiet understanding between you — a recognition of the enormity of what he’s just said.

“Did I wake you?” He asks softly, his hand still resting on your belly.

You shake your head, your voice thick with emotion. “No … I was awake.”

Max studies your face, and you can see the concern in his eyes, the way he’s always so attuned to your feelings. “You okay?”

You nod, reaching out to brush a hand through his messy hair. “I’m more than okay.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, one that makes your chest ache with how much you care for him. Max shifts, pressing another kiss to your belly before moving to lay beside you, gathering you into his arms. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, letting it soothe you back into that half-asleep state.

“You’re going to be an amazing dad,” you murmur, your words slurred with sleep.

Max’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “Only because I have you.”

His words wrap around you like a blanket, warm and secure. As you drift back into sleep, the last thing you hear is Max’s voice, soft and full of promise, whispering to your belly again. “I’ll always be here,” he says. “For both of you. Always.”

And with that, you let the sound of his voice carry you back into sleep, your heart filled with a deep, unshakable sense of peace.

***

The contractions start in the early hours of the morning, sharp and unyielding, ripping you out of a restless sleep. At first, you think it’s just another false alarm — your body playing tricks on you like it has for the past week. But this time, something feels different, more urgent. Max is beside you in an instant, his instincts kicking in the moment you clutch at the sheets, your breath hitching in pain.

“Are you okay?” His voice is full of concern, his hand already on your back, trying to soothe you through the discomfort.

You shake your head, biting your lip as another wave crashes over you. “It’s time,” you manage to gasp, your hand instinctively reaching for his. “Max, it’s time.”

Max’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t hesitate. He’s up, grabbing the hospital bag that’s been packed for weeks now, guiding you carefully out of bed. The ride to the hospital is a blur of pain and tension, Max’s knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel, driving with a focus that betrays his worry.

When you arrive, everything moves too quickly and too slowly all at once. Nurses and doctors swarm around you, getting you into a gown, checking your vitals, assessing the baby’s position. Max stays by your side through it all, his hand never leaving yours, his voice a steady presence in your ear as he tries to keep you calm.

Hours pass, the pain intensifying until it feels like your body is being split in two. But you’re not scared — not until the doctor’s expression changes, his calm professionalism slipping as he exchanges a glance with the nurse. It’s a look that sends a spike of fear through your heart, and suddenly, the room feels too small, the walls closing in.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your voice shaking, trying to keep the panic at bay. Max’s hand tightens around yours, his eyes fixed on the doctor, demanding answers without saying a word.

The doctor clears his throat, his tone gentle but serious. “The baby is in distress. Her heart rate is dropping, and we’re concerned about a potential placental abruption.”

“What does that mean?” Max’s voice is hoarse, his face pale.

“It means,” the doctor says carefully, “we may have to make some difficult decisions. We’ll do everything we can, but in situations like this, there’s a chance we may have to prioritize-”

“No,” you interrupt, your voice rising in panic. The room starts to spin, your vision blurring as the reality of what he’s saying crashes over you. “No, no, no … you can’t do that. Save the baby. If it comes down to it, you have to save the baby.”

Max’s grip on your hand tightens to the point of pain, but it’s nothing compared to the anguish in his eyes. “Don’t say that,” he chokes out, his voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that.”

The doctor nods, his expression somber. “We’re not there yet. We still have time to try and turn things around, but we need to act fast.”

You nod numbly, tears streaming down your face as the pain intensifies, the fear now mingling with the physical agony. Max leans in close, his forehead resting against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he struggles to hold it together.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispers, though his voice shakes with the weight of his own fear. “You hear me? Both of you. You’re both coming out of this. I need you to believe that.”

Your heart aches at the desperation in his voice, and you want to believe him, want to cling to the hope he’s trying so hard to give you. But the terror is overwhelming, and all you can do is nod, too afraid to speak, afraid that if you do, it will make everything too real.

Max pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression fierce despite the tears shining in his own. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice stronger now, a command wrapped in a plea. “You’re strong, okay? The strongest person I know. And she’s strong too. You’re both going to make it through this. You have to. I can’t-” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “I can’t lose you. I can’t lose either of you.”

His words break something inside you, and you sob, clutching at him like he’s your lifeline, because right now, he is. The pain, the fear, the uncertainty — it’s all too much, and you bury your face in his chest, trying to draw strength from him.

The doctors and nurses are moving around you, the room filled with a flurry of activity, but all you can focus on is Max. He’s your anchor, the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as the world spins out of control. His hand never leaves yours, even as the contractions grow stronger, more intense, your screams echoing off the walls.

“I’m here,” Max keeps repeating, his voice a constant in the chaos. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

But then, the situation worsens. You hear the doctor call for an emergency C-section, and your heart plummets. The pain is unbearable, and you can’t breathe, can’t think. They’re wheeling you away, Max’s hand slipping from yours as they take you to the operating room. The last thing you see is his face, pale and stricken, his eyes wide with fear.

“I love you,” he calls out, his voice cracking with the weight of everything he can’t control. “I love you so much. Please — please be okay.”

The operating room is cold, the lights too bright, and all you can think about is the life inside you, the baby you’ve grown to love before she’s even taken her first breath. You can’t lose her. You can’t. But the fear is suffocating, and as they prepare you for surgery, you feel a wave of despair crash over you.

Max’s words echo in your mind, a desperate mantra that you cling to with everything you have. Both of you are making it out of this. You have to.

The anesthesia takes hold, and you feel yourself slipping away, the world fading around you. But before the darkness consumes you, you send up a silent prayer, a plea to whatever force might be listening.

Please. Please let us both make it out of this.

And then, there’s nothing but darkness.

***

Max paces the waiting room, his heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through his chest. Every second that ticks by is torture, every minute without news a knife twisting in his gut. He’s never been this scared in his life, not even in the most dangerous moments on the track.

His hands are shaking, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. He keeps replaying the last look you gave him, the fear in your eyes, the way you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. The thought of losing you, of losing the baby — it’s unbearable.

He can’t breathe, can’t think straight. All he can do is wait, and it’s driving him insane. He feels so helpless, like there’s nothing he can do to fix this, to protect you, and it’s killing him.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the doctor emerges from the operating room. Max rushes to him, his heart in his throat, fear choking him.

“Doctor, please — tell me, are they okay?” Max’s voice is raw, barely above a whisper, his eyes pleading.

The doctor looks tired, his face drawn, but there’s a small, reassuring smile on his lips. “The surgery was successful. It was touch and go for a while, but both your partner and the baby are stable.”

Max’s knees nearly buckle with relief, a sob escaping his throat as he covers his face with his hands. “Thank God … thank you,” he chokes out, his whole body trembling with the release of tension.

“You can see them soon,” the doctor adds gently, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s going to need a lot of rest, and we’ll be monitoring them both closely, but they’re out of danger for now.”

Max nods, unable to speak, his emotions too overwhelming to put into words. He’s ushered into a recovery room, where you’re lying on the bed, pale and exhausted, but alive. The sight of you sends a fresh wave of tears to his eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper weakly, your voice barely audible, but the sound of it is the most beautiful thing Max has ever heard.

“Hey,” he breathes, moving to your side and taking your hand in his. His other hand brushes the hair from your face, his touch reverent, as if he’s afraid you might break. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. “I didn’t mean to … I just … I had to make sure she was okay.”

Max shakes his head, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, his tears mingling with yours. “Don’t apologize. You did it. You both made it. You’re both okay.”

You squeeze his hand, drawing strength from his presence. “I couldn’t have done it without you. I heard you, Max … I heard you telling me to hold on.”

Max pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I meant every word. I’ll always be here, for both of you. I promise.”

A nurse enters. “Would you like to meet your daughter?” She asks.

The nurse wheels in the bassinet, and you can’t take your eyes off the tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket. Max looks at you, his heart in his throat, as the nurse gently lifts your daughter and places her in your arms. She’s so small, her eyes closed, her tiny fists curled up against her chest. The world narrows to this moment, the overwhelming surge of love crashing over you both as you stare down at her.

Max sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders as he looks at his daughter, his breath catching in his throat. “She’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “So beautiful.”

You smile through your tears, nodding as you trace a gentle finger over the baby’s soft cheek. “She is. I … I’ve been thinking about what to name her.”

Max looks at you, his heart pounding, waiting for you to speak.

“I want to name her Emilia,” you say softly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “After you. I want her to have a part of you with her always. You’ve done so much for us, Max. You’re a part of her, a part of us. It feels right.”

Max’s breath catches, and for a moment, he can’t speak. His middle name is something he’s never thought much about, but hearing you say it now, giving it to your daughter — it takes on a whole new meaning.

“Emilia,” he repeats softly, as if testing it out. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his eyes bright with unshed tears. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body as he wraps you both in his embrace. Emilia stirs in your arms, making a soft noise as she opens her eyes for the first time, looking up at you and Max with wide, curious eyes. It feels like time stands still, the three of you cocooned in this perfect moment.

“She’s going to be so loved,” Max whispers, his voice full of awe and determination. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You nod, knowing he means it with every fiber of his being. Max has already proven that he’ll do anything to protect you and Emilia. It’s in the way he looks at you, in the way he holds you both as if you’re the most precious things in the world.

As you sit there together, your new family, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you won’t be facing them alone. Max is here, by your side, and with him, you have all the strength you need.

“Welcome to the world, Emilia,” you whisper, kissing her tiny forehead. “We love you so much.”

Max kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he closes his eyes, letting himself feel the full weight of the love he has for you both. This is what he’s been waiting for, what he didn’t even realize he needed until now.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmurs, his voice a promise. “For both of you.”

And as you hold your daughter close, you know that those words are true. Max will always be here, and together, you’ll face whatever comes next as a family.

***

Max carefully pulls the car up to the curb outside his Monaco apartment, his hands gripping the steering wheel just a little too tightly. He’s driven this route countless times, but today feels different — monumental. He glances over at you in the passenger seat, Emilia cradled in your arms, bundled up in a soft pink blanket. She’s asleep, her tiny mouth forming an ‘O’ as she breathes peacefully.

Max’s heart feels like it might burst from his chest as he watches you both. The love he feels is overwhelming, so much that it almost scares him. He’s not sure how to carry it all, but he knows he wants to try — no, he needs to.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice soft, not wanting to disturb Emilia.

You nod, smiling down at your daughter before looking up at him. “Ready.”

Max steps out of the car and hurries around to your side, opening the door for you and helping you out, his hand warm and steady on your arm. You both move carefully, as if the world might shatter if you’re too rough. Emilia stirs slightly as you adjust her in your arms, but she stays asleep, oblivious to the world outside.

The front door of the apartment clicks open, and you step inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you. Max closes the door behind you, and suddenly, the apartment feels different — more complete, more alive. He watches as you walk into the living room, a sense of awe filling him as he realizes that this is your home now, Emilia’s home.

Jimmy and Sassy are lounging on the couch when you enter. They lift their heads lazily, eyes narrowing with curiosity as they spot the new addition to the household. Max watches them closely, his heart racing slightly. He knows how territorial they can be, and the last thing he wants is for them to feel threatened by Emilia.

You lower yourself carefully onto the couch, cradling Emilia in your arms, and Max sits beside you, his arm around your shoulders. “Guys,” you whisper to the cats, your voice gentle, soothing. “Come say hi.”

Jimmy is the first to move, hopping down from the couch and approaching slowly, his eyes wide as he takes in the sight of the tiny human in your arms. He sniffs the air cautiously, his ears twitching, and then, to Max’s surprise, he rubs his head gently against Emilia’s leg, purring softly. Sassy follows suit, jumping up onto the armrest to get a better look, her green eyes curious and bright.

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a smile spreading across his face. “Looks like they approve,” he says, his voice full of warmth.

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I guess so. They’re so gentle with her.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees, his eyes never leaving Emilia’s face. “They know she’s important.”

For a while, the three of you just sit there, basking in the quiet joy of the moment. Emilia shifts in your arms, her tiny fingers flexing as she begins to wake up. Her eyes flutter open, and she lets out a small, contented sigh. Jimmy and Sassy watch intently, as if fascinated by this little creature that’s suddenly become the center of their world.

Max reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against Emilia’s cheek. She turns her head slightly, her eyes trying to focus on him, and Max feels a lump form in his throat. “Hi, meisje,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Welcome home.”

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder, and for a moment, everything feels perfect. But then, as if the weight of the world suddenly returns, Max feels a pang of dread deep in his chest. He tries to push it away, but it lingers, gnawing at him.

You notice the change in him immediately, lifting your head to look at him, concern in your eyes. “Max? What’s wrong?”

He hesitates, not wanting to ruin the moment, but he knows he has to tell you. “I just … I’ve been thinking about the races,” he admits quietly. “I’m going to have to leave soon, and … I hate the thought of being away from you and Emilia. Especially now.”

Your expression softens, and you reach out to take his hand, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “Max, it’s okay. I know how much racing means to you. We’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head, his eyes searching yours. “I know you will. It’s just … I don’t want to miss anything. I don’t want to miss her first smile, her first laugh, her first steps …”

“You won’t,” you assure him, squeezing his hand. “We’ll make it work. And when she’s old enough, we’ll come with you to as many races as we can.”

Max’s heart swells at the thought, but then another worry creeps in. He hesitates, glancing away for a moment before looking back at you. “But… what about Charles? I don’t want you to feel like you have to be in the same paddock as him. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words, and then you shake your head, a determined look in your eyes. “Max, I’ve thought about it a lot, and I want to be there with you. Emilia and I will cheer you on, and Charles … well, he’s in the past. You’re our future. I want to support you, and I want Emilia to see how amazing her papa is.”

The relief that washes over Max is palpable. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to hear that until now. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice almost trembling. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I’m sure,” you say firmly. “Besides, I want Emilia to grow up surrounded by people who love her. And that includes you, Max. You’re her papa.”

Max’s breath catches at the word, his chest tightening with a mix of love and fear. He’s been called many things in his life — champion, prodigy, competitor — but ‘papa’ is new. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Papa,” he echoes softly, the word feeling both foreign and right on his tongue. “I like the sound of that.”

You smile, your eyes shining with warmth. “Me too.”

The rest of the day passes in a blur of small, beautiful moments. You and Max take turns holding Emilia, watching as she discovers the world around her with wide, curious eyes. Max can’t stop marveling at how tiny she is, how perfect. Every little coo, every small movement feels like a miracle to him.

When evening falls, you feed Emilia while Max busies himself in the kitchen, preparing something simple for dinner. He’s not much of a cook, but he’s determined to take care of you both in any way he can. As you sit at the table together, Emilia cradled in your arms, Max watches you with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before.

But as the night grows darker, that lingering dread creeps back in. Max knows he has to leave for the next race soon, and the thought of being away from you and Emilia feels unbearable. After dinner, he finds himself pacing the living room, his thoughts swirling.

You notice his restlessness and approach him, Emilia sleeping soundly in your arms. “Max,” you say gently, drawing his attention. “Talk to me.”

He stops, running a hand through his hair as he looks at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “I just … I don’t know how I’m going to leave you both. I hate it.”

You step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. “Max, I know it’s hard. But we’ll be okay. And you can call us anytime, video chat, whatever you need. We’ll make it work.”

Max nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “I just don’t want to miss anything,” he repeats, his voice strained. “I want to be here for everything.”

“And you will be,” you promise, your voice firm. “We’ll figure it out together. We’re a team now, remember?”

Max lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah,” he says softly, his voice filled with gratitude. “We are.”

You lean up to kiss him softly on the lips, a kiss that’s full of reassurance and love. When you pull back, Max looks at you with a mixture of awe and affection.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” You ask, tilting your head slightly.

“For being here. For being you,” he says simply, his eyes locking onto yours. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love for the man in front of you. “You’ll never have to find out.”

Max pulls you into a gentle embrace, careful not to disturb Emilia as he holds you both close. In that moment, he knows that no matter how many races he has to go to, no matter how far he has to travel, this is where his heart will always be — with you and Emilia.

And as you both stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Max makes a silent promise to himself: to always be there for you, no matter what. Because this — this little family you’ve created together — is the most important thing in the world.

***

The doorbell rings just as Max is finishing up with Emilia’s bottle. He glances at the clock — 10:30 a.m. Whoever it is, they’re too early for lunch, too late for breakfast, and entirely unexpected.

You’re in the kitchen, humming softly while packing away the groceries Max picked up this morning. Max smiles to himself as he looks down at Emilia, her tiny fingers wrapped around his thumb. It feels like everything in his life is finally in place.

But that sense of contentment shatters the moment he opens the door.

Jos stands there, his presence immediately filling the entryway with tension. The older man’s eyes flick to you in the kitchen, then back to Max, his mouth curling into a sneer.

“Max,” Jos says, stepping forward before Max can say a word. His voice is cold, sharp. The man doesn’t even bother with a greeting.

“Dad,” Max replies, swallowing hard as he shuts the door behind him. Jos is already walking into the apartment, his eyes scanning the place like he’s looking for something to criticize.

You turn around, startled by the sound of footsteps you weren’t expecting. The soft smile on your face fades when you see Jos. Max can see the recognition in your eyes, followed by a flash of concern. You know about Jos, the kind of man he is. Max’s jaw tightens.

“What are you doing here?” Max tries to keep his voice steady, but there’s an edge to it, a warning.

Jos ignores him. His gaze is fixed on you now, his expression unreadable but undeniably harsh. “So this is her, huh?” He waves a hand in your direction. “The one Charles tossed aside.”

You freeze, hands trembling as you instinctively clutch the counter behind you. Max’s blood runs cold.

“Don’t,” Max warns, stepping between you and his father. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Jos scoffs. “Relax, Max. I’m just stating the obvious. She’s nothing more than your rival’s sloppy seconds. And you … you’re playing house with another man’s child.”

The air leaves the room. Max’s vision narrows, and all he can see is Jos — the man who made his childhood a battleground. The man who pushed him so hard he could barely breathe under the weight of his expectations. Now he’s here, trying to break apart the life Max has built for himself.

“That’s enough,” Max snaps, his voice rising in a way that’s unfamiliar, even to him. Emilia starts fussing in his arms, sensing the tension, and it only makes him angrier. “You don’t get to walk in here and insult my family.”

Jos raises an eyebrow. “Family? Don’t kid yourself, Max. This isn’t your family. This is Charles Leclerc’s leftovers. You’re raising another man’s child, and you think that makes you a father?”

Max feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s not that scared little boy anymore, the one who craved his father’s approval more than anything in the world. He’s a man now — a father — and he won’t let Jos tear him down again.

“You don’t know anything about this,” Max says, his voice shaking with fury. “I love her. I love Emilia. She’s my daughter, and I’m her father, no matter what you think. And if you can’t respect that, then you don’t belong here.”

Jos’s eyes flash with something dark, something that Max recognizes all too well. But before he can say anything, you step forward, your voice trembling but determined. “Please, just go.”

Jos glances at you, then back at Max. For a moment, it looks like he might push further, but then he shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You’ve gone soft, Max. You’re making a mistake, and one day you’ll see it.”

Max tightens his grip on Emilia, who’s starting to cry now, her small voice cutting through the tension. He turns his back on Jos, cradling his daughter close to his chest, and says, “Get out.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. Then, with a huff of disdain, Jos turns on his heel and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him. The sound echoes through the apartment like a gunshot.

You rush to Max’s side, reaching out to touch his arm. “Max, I-”

“Don’t,” Max says, his voice cracking. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as he struggles to keep his composure. “Just … don’t.”

He doesn’t mean to snap at you, but the anger, the hurt, it’s all too much. You say nothing, just move closer, wrapping your arms around him and Emilia, holding them both as tightly as you can. Max can feel the tension melting away, replaced by a deep, bone-deep exhaustion.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Max replies, shaking his head. “It’s … it’s just him. He’ll never change.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “He’s wrong, Max. You are her father. You’re already everything she needs.”

Max looks down at Emilia, who’s slowly calming down in his arms. Her tiny hand grips his finger, and the simple, innocent gesture makes something in him break. He swallows hard, blinking back tears.

“I don’t care what he says,” Max whispers, more to himself than to you. “I’m not him. I’m never going to be him.”

You reach up, gently brushing a tear away from his cheek. “You’re not. You’re a good man and you��re already a great father.”

Max can’t find the words to respond, so he just leans down and kisses you, a slow, desperate kiss that says everything he can’t put into words. You kiss him back, your hands gently cradling his face, grounding him in the moment.

When you finally pull away, you smile at him, and it’s like the sun breaking through a stormy sky. “We’re going to be okay,” you say softly. “All three of us.”

Max nods, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “We are.”

You both stand there in the quiet of the apartment, holding onto each other and to Emilia, who has finally fallen back asleep. The storm has passed, but Max knows there will be more to come. But as long as he has you and Emilia by his side, he knows he can face anything.

And for the first time in a long time, Max feels like he’s finally home.

***

The room is silent except for the soft hum of the baby monitor, its rhythmic buzz a constant backdrop to the night. The apartment is dark, save for a thin sliver of moonlight seeping in through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room.

You stir, groggily reaching for the warmth of Max beside you, but find only cold sheets. Instantly, you’re more awake, your heart quickening as you sit up and squint into the darkness. It’s late, or maybe it’s early — time has blurred into an endless loop of feeding, changing, and trying to snatch sleep in between.

Max isn’t in bed, but you can see his silhouette across the room, standing over Emilia’s crib. His back is to you, his posture tense yet somehow fragile, as if he’s holding something inside that’s threatening to spill over. You watch him for a moment, the quiet of the night wrapping around you both like a blanket, before you gently call out his name.

“Max?”

He doesn’t turn immediately, and for a second, you think maybe he didn’t hear you. But then he shifts slightly, his shoulders dropping as if he’s finally exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Sorry,” he says, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Did I wake you?”

You shake your head, though he’s not looking at you. “No. I just noticed you weren’t in bed.”

He glances back at you then, just briefly, his eyes shadowed and unreadable in the dim light. “I couldn’t sleep,” he admits, turning his gaze back to Emilia. “I kept thinking about … everything.”

There’s a heaviness in his tone that makes you push back the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. You stand up, crossing the room to where he’s standing. When you reach him, you place a hand on his arm, feeling the tension thrumming through his muscles.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” You ask softly, trying to meet his eyes.

For a moment, he’s quiet, staring down at Emilia with a look that’s a mix of awe and fear. Then he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I keep saying she’s mine. I’ve said it so many times, but … I don’t think it really hit me until just now. I’m her dad.”

He finally looks at you, his blue eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. “I’m her dad, and that means … everything. It means I’m the one who’s supposed to protect her, to make sure she’s safe and happy. I’m the one who’s supposed to teach her, to love her, to be there for every moment of her life.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and you feel your heart break for him, for the weight he’s been carrying. You squeeze his arm gently, encouraging him to continue.

“I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be what my dad wanted me to be,” Max continues, his eyes dropping back down to Emilia. “I pushed myself so hard because I thought that’s what I had to do, that I had to prove something to him, to everyone. But this … being her dad, it’s different. It’s not about proving anything. It’s just about being there for her, for you.”

You can hear the fear in his voice, the uncertainty, but also the determination. Max has always been a fighter, always pushing himself to the limit, but this is different. This is about love, about responsibility, about a future that’s no longer just his.

“I promise,” he says, his voice stronger now, more certain. “I promise I’ll always do the best for her, and for you. I’ll make mistakes, I know I will, but I’ll always try to do what’s right. I’ll always be here.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You step closer, sliding your arms around his waist and resting your head against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that grounds you in the moment.

“You’re already doing it,” you whisper against his chest. “You’re already an amazing dad, Max. She’s so lucky to have you, and so am I.”

Max wraps his arms around you, pulling you even closer. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. It’s a simple, quiet moment, but it’s everything.

“I’m the lucky one,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I didn’t think … I never imagined this. Having a family. But now that I do, I can’t imagine life without it. Without you. Without her.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. His eyes are soft, full of love and something else — something deeper, more profound. It’s the look of a man who’s found something he didn’t even know he was searching for.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out before you can even think about them. But they’re true, and you realize with a start that you’ve been feeling them for a while now.

Max’s breath catches, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to memorize your face, your words, everything about this moment. Then he smiles — a real, genuine smile that lights up his entire face.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, tender kiss. It’s not the first kiss you’ve shared, but it feels like the most important. It’s a promise, a commitment, a beginning.

When you finally pull away, Max rests his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you close. “Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything. For trusting me, for being here, for giving me this family.”

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He kisses you again, softer this time, a lingering brush of lips that sends warmth spiraling through you. Then he turns his attention back to Emilia, who’s still sound asleep in her crib, blissfully unaware of the world around her.

“She’s so perfect,” Max murmurs, his voice full of wonder. “I still can’t believe she’s ours.”

“She is,” you agree, leaning against him as you both watch your daughter sleep. “She’s everything.”

Max nods, his eyes never leaving Emilia. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure she has the best life possible. I don’t care what it takes. She’s my little girl.”

There’s a fierceness in his voice now, a protective instinct that you know will only grow stronger with time. It’s the kind of love that can’t be measured, the kind that changes everything.

“And you,” Max adds, looking down at you with a softness that makes your heart swell. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you’re happy too. That you never have to worry about anything.”

“I know you will,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “But you don’t have to do it all on your own, Max. We’re in this together, okay? We’re a team.”

He nods, his expression serious. “Yeah. We are.”

You stand there in the quiet of the night, wrapped up in each other and in the future you’re building together. It’s a future that’s still uncertain, full of challenges and unknowns, but it’s yours. It’s yours, and it’s beautiful.

After a while, Max guides you back to bed, and you both climb under the covers, your bodies fitting together perfectly. He holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as you settle against his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and it lulls you into a peaceful sleep.

As you drift off, you hear Max’s voice one last time, a soft whisper in the darkness. “I’m never letting go of this. Of you. Of her. I promise.”

And with that, you fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, feeling more loved and more secure than you ever have before.

***

Max is darting around the private jet, a man on a mission. He’s checking every corner, every surface, making sure it’s all baby-proofed, while you sit on the plush leather seat, watching him with a mix of amusement and affection. Emilia, cradled in your arms, is blissfully unaware of her father’s nerves as she gurgles happily, her tiny hands waving in the air.

“Max, it’s fine,” you call out, but he’s too busy testing the security of a cabinet door to hear you.

“What if the turbulence knocks something over?” He mutters, more to himself than to you, as he gives the cabinet another pull to ensure it’s locked tight. He moves on to the safety straps on the seats, tugging at them to make sure they’re secure.

You can’t help but smile at how seriously he’s taking this. Max Verstappen reduced to a bundle of nerves over the safety of a half-year-old baby on a private jet. It’s endearing, seeing him so out of his element, so completely focused on making sure everything is perfect for Emilia.

“Max, she’s going to be fine,” you say gently, but with a hint of laughter in your voice.

Max finally turns to you, his expression a mix of determination and mild panic. “I know, I just-” he pauses, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t want to take any chances. What if something happens? What if-”

“Max,” you cut him off, “everything’s going to be okay. You’ve checked everything three times already.”

He lets out a breath, his shoulders finally relaxing a little. “Yeah, you’re right. I just ... I want her to be safe.”

“She will be. And besides,” you add with a teasing smile, “you’ve already won the overprotective dad award.”

That gets a small smile out of him, and he walks over to where you’re sitting, leaning down to press a kiss to Emilia’s forehead. “You’re right,” he says again, though this time it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.

You reach up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing over the stubble there. “You’re an amazing dad, Max.”

He covers your hand with his, his blue eyes softening as he looks at you. “I just ... I never thought I’d be this worried, you know? Driving at 300 kilometers an hour doesn’t scare me, but this ...”

“Because this is different,” you finish for him, understanding completely. “She’s your whole world now.”

“You both are,” he corrects, and you can see the emotion in his eyes, the depth of his feelings for both you and Emilia.

The flight attendant comes by to offer refreshments, and Max asks for a bottle of water before turning his attention back to you and Emilia. He takes a seat beside you, carefully cradling the baby as you hand her over. The moment Emilia is in his arms, the tension in his shoulders eases, and he looks down at her with the kind of adoration that makes your heart swell.

“Look at her,” he murmurs, as if he still can’t believe this little person is real, is his.

“She’s beautiful,” you agree softly.

Max leans back in his seat, holding Emilia close. She’s starting to doze off, her tiny mouth making little sucking motions even in her sleep. “I can’t wait for her to see her first race,” he says quietly, his voice full of anticipation and pride.

You smile, watching the way he looks at Emilia, as if she’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, she is.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” You ask, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He chuckles softly. “I don’t know. But I hope so. Maybe she’ll be my little lucky charm.”

“She already is,” you say, closing your eyes for a moment, just soaking in the warmth of the moment.

The plane starts to taxi down the runway, and Max holds Emilia a little tighter, his other hand reaching out to take yours. The takeoff is smooth, but Max’s grip on your hand doesn’t loosen until you’re well into the air.

“She didn’t even stir,” you note, nodding towards Emilia, who’s still peacefully asleep in Max’s arms.

“She’s tougher than we give her credit for,” Max replies, smiling down at his daughter.

As the flight progresses, Max eventually relaxes enough to stop checking every detail of the cabin. He spends most of the time just watching Emilia sleep, occasionally glancing out the window at the clouds passing by. You can see the wheels turning in his head, and you know he’s already imagining what it will be like to have her at the track, to share that part of his life with her.

After a while, you start to feel the effects of the early morning and the flight. The gentle hum of the plane and the steady warmth of Max beside you lull you into a state of drowsiness. You lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, your hand still holding his.

Max looks down at you, his heart swelling with a fierce protectiveness. This is his family, his girls, and he would do anything to keep you both safe, to make sure you’re happy. He kisses the top of your head, the gesture so natural, so filled with love, that it almost surprises him how right it feels.

As the plane flies steadily towards its destination, you drift off to sleep, the last thing you hear being Max whispering softly to Emilia, telling her about the first time he’ll take her to the paddock, how he’ll introduce her to everyone, how he’ll teach her everything he knows. His voice is filled with so much love and promise that it makes your heart ache in the best way possible.

And then, you’re asleep, resting peacefully against Max’s shoulder, while Emilia snoozes in his arms. Max stays like that for the rest of the flight, holding both of you close, his heart full and content.

***

The paddock buzzes with the usual pre-race excitement, but today, there's an extra layer of curiosity. People are craning their necks, whispering to each other, their eyes widening as Max Verstappen strolls through, an unusual sight to behold. Emilia is strapped to his chest in a baby carrier, her tiny hands grabbing at the fabric of Max’s shirt, while you walk beside him, pushing a stroller that’s more a mobile storage unit for all the baby essentials.

It’s your first time back at a race since everything changed, and the significance of the moment isn’t lost on you. Every step feels heavy with the weight of anticipation, not just for the race itself, but for the reactions you both know are coming. Max, usually so composed in these environments, seems a little tense. His hand rests protectively over Emilia, his thumb gently stroking her back as he navigates through the crowd.

As you walk together, you catch the eyes of team members, fans, and media alike, all of them stunned by the sight of Max — stoic, single-minded Max — suddenly a father. The whispers grow louder, cameras discreetly capturing the moment, and you feel the eyes of the entire paddock on you. But Max, despite the tension in his shoulders, keeps his focus on you and Emilia, blocking out the stares as best he can.

You try to smile, to project confidence, but you can’t shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable. It’s not just that this is your first time back in the paddock — it’s that this is the first time the world is seeing you, Max, and Emilia together. You brace yourself for the reactions, knowing they’ll come.

Max senses your unease and squeezes your hand, a silent reassurance that he’s with you every step of the way. “Ignore them,” he says quietly, his voice firm. “This is about us, not them.”

You nod, taking a deep breath as you push the stroller forward. Emilia, blissfully unaware of the attention, coos happily against Max’s chest, her tiny head resting against him. It’s that sound, that innocence, that gives you the strength to keep going.

As you walk further into the paddock, the sea of familiar faces starts to part for you, some people smiling warmly, others too shocked to do much more than gape. Max acknowledges a few of the team members with a nod, his usual stern expression softened by the presence of his daughter.

Then, as you turn a corner near the Red Bull garage, you see him. Charles, dressed in his Ferrari red, stands talking to a few engineers. His back is to you, and for a moment, you think you might pass by unnoticed. But then, as if sensing your presence, Charles turns.

The world seems to slow as his eyes lock onto Emilia. He freezes, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief in a matter of seconds. His gaze flickers between you, Max, and the baby, and you can see the moment it all clicks for him. The green eyes, so like his own, staring back at him from the face of the baby strapped to Max’s chest.

“Max,” Charles says, his voice low, tight. His face flushes with a mix of emotions — shock, anger, betrayal. “What the hell is this?”

Max’s jaw tightens, but he stays calm. “Let’s not do this here.”

But Charles doesn’t seem to hear him. He takes a step closer, his eyes locked on Emilia, and you instinctively move closer to Max, as if you can shield your daughter from whatever’s about to happen.

“You had a baby?” Charles spits out, his voice rising with each word. “My baby?” He points at you, disbelief and fury written all over his face. “You stole my girlfriend and now you’re raising my child?”

The words hit like a slap, and you feel the blood drain from your face. You knew this confrontation was coming, but nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of it, for the venom in Charles’ voice.

Max steps forward, placing himself between you and Charles. “Watch what you’re saying,” he warns, his voice dangerously low. “Emilia is not your daughter. You gave up that right when you left her mother.”

Charles scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he looks at Max. “You think you can just replace me? That she’ll ever be yours?”

“She already is,” Max replies, his voice steady, unyielding. “She’s mine because I’m here for her, every day. Because I love her. And because you walked away.”

Charles looks like he’s about to explode. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, you think he might actually take a swing at Max. But instead, he turns his anger on you.

“And you,” he snaps, his voice dripping with contempt. “How could you do this? How could you let him take my place?”

The accusation stings, but before you can respond, Emilia starts to cry, the tension and raised voices too much for her to handle. The sound cuts through the air like a knife, and suddenly, all eyes are on the three of you, the scene unfolding like a car crash that no one can look away from.

Charles looks stricken at the sound of Emilia’s cries, but his anger doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it seems to fuel him further. “You think you can just replace me? That she won’t know who her real father is?”

Max’s composure finally breaks. He steps forward, his face inches from Charles, his voice deadly calm. “You lost the right to call yourself her father when you walked away from her mother without a second thought. Don’t you dare try to claim her now.”

“Max, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you reach out to him. But before you can pull him back, Charles lashes out.

“You think this is over? You think I’ll just let you play happy family with my daughter?”

“Stop it, Charles,” you plead, but your words fall on deaf ears.

Charles opens his mouth to respond, but Emilia’s cries grow louder, her tiny fists clenching in distress. Max’s expression hardens as he looks at Charles, then at his daughter, who’s clearly terrified by the escalating confrontation.

“That’s enough,” Max says, his voice firm. “You’re scaring her.”

But Charles doesn’t back down. He takes another step forward, his voice rising. “She’s mine, Max. And I’ll make sure she knows it.”

Emilia’s wails reach a fever pitch, and Max’s patience snaps. He takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching as he turns to you. “Take her,” he says softly, carefully unstrapping Emilia from the carrier and handing her to you. You can feel his hands shaking slightly as he passes her over, his control fraying at the edges.

You cradle Emilia close, trying to soothe her as you watch the standoff between Max and Charles with mounting dread.

Max squares his shoulders, turning back to Charles with a look that could freeze over hell. “If you ever come near her again,” he says, his voice cold as ice, “I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Charles’s eyes flash with anger, but he’s out of words, out of retorts. He glares at Max, then at you, before turning on his heel and storming away, his footsteps echoing down the paddock.

For a moment, everything is silent except for Emilia’s soft cries. The crowd that had gathered disperses, but not without a few lingering looks of shock and curiosity. You can feel the weight of their stares, the buzz of gossip that’s sure to follow, but all that matters is calming Emilia and holding it together for her.

Max stands there, his chest heaving, the adrenaline from the confrontation still coursing through his veins. He watches as Charles disappears from sight, then turns back to you, his expression softening as he sees the tears in your eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t want it to happen like this.”

You shake your head, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you focus on Emilia, her cries quieting as she nuzzles against your chest, seeking comfort.

Max steps closer, his hand reaching out to touch your arm, grounding both of you. “Are you okay?” He asks gently, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, though your voice is shaky. “It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

“I know,” Max says, his voice filled with regret. “I wish I could make it all go away.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the tension start to ease as Max’s presence grounds you. “We’ll get through this,” you say softly, more for yourself than anyone else.

Max wraps an arm around you, pulling you close, his other hand resting on Emilia’s back. “We will,” he promises, his voice steady and sure. “We’re a family, and nothing’s going to change that.”

As you stand there, the chaos of the paddock fading into the background, you realize that no matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, you’re not alone in this. You have Max, and together, you’ll face whatever comes your way.

***

Max paces the length of his driver’s room, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low but urgent. Outside, the hum of the paddock continues, but inside, the tension is palpable. He runs a hand through his hair, the stress of the day catching up with him. His mind is a storm of thoughts, all centered on you and Emilia.

You stand at the doorway, hesitating as you hear his voice, too focused on the conversation to notice your presence. You can’t make out every word, but the ones you do catch make your heart pound in your chest.

“No, I don’t care what it takes,” Max says, his voice firm. “I want to make sure he has no rights. None. He can’t just walk back into her life and take her away.”

Your breath hitches, and you step closer, just out of his line of sight. Max pauses, listening to whoever’s on the other end of the call, his jaw clenched tight. The room feels smaller, the walls closing in, the gravity of what he’s discussing weighing heavily on your heart.

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “I’ve thought about that. Adoption. I want it to be official, as soon as possible. I want to be her dad in every way that matters.”

You feel like the air’s been knocked out of you. Your hand flies to your mouth, trying to contain the emotion that surges through you. You’ve always known that Max loves Emilia as his own, but hearing him talk about adoption, about making it official, is overwhelming. It’s everything you didn’t know you needed to hear.

Max’s back is to you, his shoulders tense, his free hand on his hip. “No, I don’t care about the PR fallout. She’s my daughter, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her.”

You can’t stay quiet any longer. “Max …”

He turns so quickly that he nearly drops his phone. His blue eyes widen in surprise, then soften when he sees you. He quickly wraps up the call, telling his lawyer he’ll be in touch soon, and hangs up, his attention solely on you now.

“How much did you hear?” He asks, a touch of worry in his voice as he approaches you.

“Enough,” you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. “You’re serious about this? About adopting her?”

Max stops in front of you, his hands gently taking yours. “Of course, I am,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “She’s mine, in every way that matters. I don’t want there to be any question about that. I want to make it official.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. “Max … I don’t even know what to say. You’re amazing, you know that?”

He smiles, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that tugs at your heart. “I just want to do what’s right for you and Emilia. You both mean everything to me.”

Your heart swells with so much love that it feels like it might burst. “I love you,” you whisper, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Max’s eyes light up, and he pulls you into his arms, holding you close. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “So much.”

You bury your face in his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you as you let the tears fall, tears of happiness, relief, and love. Max’s hand runs soothingly up and down your back, his touch reassuring, solid, and everything you need.

“I didn’t know if you’d want that,” you admit after a moment, your voice muffled against his shirt. “The adoption, I mean. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face. “This isn’t about pressure,” he says earnestly. “This is about what I want. I want to be her dad, officially. I want us to be a family.”

His words hit you like a wave, and you can’t hold back the smile that breaks across your face. “We already are, Max. But … making it official … it would mean the world to me.”

He kisses you then, softly, sweetly, as if sealing the promise with his lips. When he pulls away, there’s a determination in his eyes that makes your heart race.

“We’ll get this sorted,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “Charles won’t be able to touch her. I’ll make sure of it.”

You nod, trusting him completely, knowing that whatever happens, Max will be there, by your side, protecting you and Emilia. He’s already proven that in so many ways.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning into his embrace. “For everything.”

Max presses another kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if he never wants to let go. “I’ll always be here for you,” he promises, his voice a gentle vow. “For both of you.”

You stay like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the world outside the room forgotten. It’s just you, Max, and the love that’s grown between you, a love that’s only getting stronger with each passing day.

Eventually, Max steps back, his hand slipping into yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again. “Come on,” he says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “Let’s go check on Emilia.”

You smile back, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Yeah,” you agree, squeezing his hand. “Let’s.”

***

The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony is a glittering affair, with the most celebrated drivers in the world gathered under one roof, all eager to see who will take home the evening’s highest honors. The room is abuzz with energy, cameras flashing, and the air thick with anticipation. It’s a night of recognition, where the best of the best are acknowledged for their achievements on the track. But for you and Max, tonight is about something much more personal.

You sit beside Max at one of the front tables, your hands clasped together under the tablecloth. Max looks sharp in his tailored suit, but his usual air of calm confidence is tinged with a nervous excitement that he can’t quite hide. His eyes are fixed on the stage, where the host is just beginning to announce the next category: Rookie of the Year.

“... and the Rookie of the Year award goes to ... Emilia Verstappen!”

The applause is instantaneous, loud and enthusiastic, as the cameras pan across the audience. You squeeze Max’s hand, and he turns to you, his eyes shining with pride. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to — you can see everything he’s feeling written all over his face.

You both watch as Emilia makes her way to the stage, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the bright lights catching the sparkles in her gown. She moves with the grace and confidence of someone who’s been in the spotlight her entire life, but there’s still that youthful energy in her step, the excitement of someone just beginning to make her mark on the world.

When Emilia reaches the podium, she takes the award in her hands, the applause still roaring around her. She takes a moment to look out at the audience, her eyes searching until they find yours and Max’s. She smiles — a smile that’s a little bit of yours, a little bit of her biological father’s, and completely her own. The room gradually quiets down, and when she speaks, her voice is clear and steady, carrying through the hall.

“Wow, this is ... incredible. Thank you so much to the FIA, to my team, and to everyone who’s supported me this year. It’s been a wild ride, and I’m so grateful for every moment.”

She pauses, glancing down at the award in her hands, turning it over thoughtfully. “But there are two people I need to thank more than anyone else, because without them, I wouldn’t be standing here tonight.”

You feel Max’s grip on your hand tighten just slightly, as if bracing himself for what’s coming. He’s always been proud of Emilia, but tonight, the emotion is running deeper than ever.

“My parents,” Emilia continues, her voice growing softer, more heartfelt. “Mama, Papa ... I owe everything to you.”

The crowd is silent now, all eyes on the young woman at the podium, the daughter of one of the greatest drivers in Formula 1 history, but tonight, it’s clear that this is Emilia’s moment.

“Mama,” Emilia says, her gaze finding you again, “you’ve been my rock, my biggest supporter, and the person who’s always believed in me, even when I doubted myself. You taught me what it means to be strong, to never give up, and to follow my heart. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you.”

A lump forms in your throat, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You’ve watched Emilia grow from a baby into the remarkable young woman she is today, and hearing her speak these words is almost too much to bear. You squeeze Max’s hand again, finding comfort in his presence beside you.

“And Papa ...” Emilia’s voice catches slightly, and she takes a moment to steady herself. “I know I might not look like you, but no one can deny that I drive like you. You’ve taught me everything I know about racing, but more importantly, you’ve shown me what it means to be passionate, dedicated, and fearless. I’ve always wanted to make you proud, and I hope I’ve done that.”

Max can’t hold back the tears any longer. He blinks rapidly, trying to keep his emotions in check, but it’s no use. His eyes are wet, his chest tight with pride and love for his daughter. He nods, his lips pressed together in a tight line, as if trying to keep himself from breaking down completely.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. In this moment, it’s just the three of you — everything else fades away.

Emilia takes a deep breath, her gaze sweeping across the audience one last time. “I’m so lucky to have parents like you. Thank you for everything. This award is as much yours as it is mine.”

The applause that follows is deafening, the crowd rising to their feet in a standing ovation. Emilia smiles, a little shy now that the speech is over, and nods her thanks before stepping back from the podium.

As the applause continues, Max turns to you, his eyes still glistening. “She’s incredible, isn’t she?”

You nod, too emotional to speak, your heart full to bursting with love for both of them. Max leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, a silent acknowledgment of everything you’ve been through together to reach this moment.

The ceremony continues, but you’re not really paying attention anymore. You’re too lost in your thoughts, in the warmth of Max’s arm around you, in the overwhelming pride you feel for your daughter.

When Emilia returns to the table, the award in her hands, Max immediately pulls her into a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “So, so proud.”

Emilia hugs him back just as tightly, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Thanks, Papa,” she whispers, her voice full of love. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

They hold each other for a long moment, and you can’t help but smile through your own tears. This is your family — your beautiful, wonderful, extraordinary family.

As the evening draws to a close and the final awards are handed out, you find yourself reflecting on the journey that brought you all here. It wasn’t always easy, and there were times when you weren’t sure how things would turn out. But standing here now, with Max and Emilia by your side, you know that every challenge, every hardship, was worth it.

As you all make your way out of the ceremony and into the cool night air, Emilia holds her award close, her eyes still shining with happiness. Max keeps his arm around you, his other hand resting on Emilia’s shoulder, as if he can’t bear to let either of you out of his reach.

When you reach the car, Max opens the door for you and Emilia, and you both slide inside. As Max takes his seat behind the wheel, he glances over at you, his expression soft and full of love.

“Ready to go home?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, smiling at him, your heart full. “Yeah,” you reply, reaching over to take his hand. “Let’s go home.”

As Max drives through the quiet streets, Emilia leans her head against your shoulder, her award still clutched in her hands. You glance at her, at the peaceful expression on her face, and feel a surge of contentment wash over you.

This is what it’s all about, you realize. This is the life you’ve built together, the family you’ve created. And as you sit there, surrounded by the people you love most in the world, you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll face it together — just as you always have.

[afterglowsainz]

imperfect for you | oscar piastri

pairing: norris!reader x oscar piastri

summary: you’re too focused on being the paddock’s cupid that you fail to notice your perfect match is right there, on your brother’s teammate

fc: madisyn menchaca

a/n: i’m choosing to ignore all the trouble and negativity surrounding oscar’s win and just focus on the fact that oscar piastri is a formula 1 grand prix winner!!!

—

liked by ynnorris, charles_leclerc and others

f1 the ferrari couple arrives in blue classiness 💙

tagged charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

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username omg alex’s first appearance in the paddock !!!

username she’s truly one of the most beautiful women i’ve seen

username let’s all thank yn’s mind for bringing these two together 💕

ynnorris my babies 🥹🫶🏽 (liked by charles_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux)

username still can’t believe if it wasn’t for yn they wouldn’t be together

username i just love when hot people date each other 😍

username and they’re matching too 🥺

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes and others

ynnorris currently in monaco looking for my next project ❤️‍🩹

tagged landonorris, oscarpiastri, logansargeant and alexandrasaintmleux

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username not her saying she’s looking for a “project” after setting up charles and alex 🤣

username the one and only paddock’s cupid 💘

username it’s insane how she sets everyone up and she’s still single

username the prettiest girl❣️

oscarpiastri you literally posted a pic playing padel, there’s you next project

ynnorris padel is for the weak who can’t play tennis

maxverstappen1 hey!

alexandrasaintmleux charge €10 per tarot reading 🫶🏽

ynnorris alexandra malena your mind is immaculate 🤌🏽

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ynnorris the look from the nosebleeds🩸

tagged logansargeant and friend1

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username why on earth wasn’t she at the garage???

username babes your brother is a literal driver what are you doing there

ynnorris he kicked me out :(

lissiemackintosh shame on you landonorris

landonorris that’s literally fake she just wanted to see how it looked from up there

oscarpiastri i can confirm

ynnorris no one asked you‼️ oscarpiastri

username and who’s that with logan 👀

username omg not another one of yn friends 😭

username she took the paddock’s cupid name too seriously

logansargeant send me that last pic

ynnorris ask friend1 🤭

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oscarpiastri exploring more of monaco🇲🇨

tagged logansargeant, ynnorris and friend1

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username can’t believe he’s moving there

username we lost the game of keeping f1 drivers out of monaco

username not oscar hard launching logan’s relationship 😭

username i genuinely think yn hard launched them first in her last post

username hard launch between yn and oscar when

username no because was this a double date orrr???

username logan and his new gf, no lando, oscar and yn next to each other … hmm …

ynnorris you look cute 🥰 friend1

friend1 youuuu 💕

logansargeant 🤨🤨

friend1 you look cute too ig

logansargeant 😊

oscarpiastri no flirting on my instagram please

ynnorris boooo 🍅🍅🍅

liked by oscarpiastri, trentarnold66 and others

ynnorris post-beach clarity 🏝

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username the only woman ever

username 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

lissiemackintosh my girlfriend 🥵 (liked by ynnorris)

username obsessed with you

username face card is insaaaane

username oscar is very slow

trentarnold66 damn😍

landonorris uhm 🤨

charlesleclerc 🤨

maxverstappen1 🤨

pierregasly 🤨

lancestroll 🤨

lewishamilton 🤨

ynnorris all of you leave rn.

ynnorris except you lewishamilton you can stay 🥰

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f1gossip some drivers were seen clubbing at monaco this weekend including oscar piastri with a mysterious brunette. yn norris and lissie mackintosh were also at the party

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username who’s the girl with oscar?

username i believe it’s friend2 but i could be wrong

username omg and look who follows her 🤭

username yn once again playing cupid but this time with the wrong guy 😩

username no because i wanted her and oscar to date so bad i thought they liked each other :(

username but look at the bright side!!! she’s been rumored to be dating trent alexander arnold so is not all bad

username i guess 😔

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footballwags trent alexander-arnold was seen recently with rumored girlfriend spending some time at the beach

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username excuse me what

username i thought his rumored girlfriend was yn norris? who is this?

username guys i think trent and yn were never really together

username you think?

username trentyn goodbye goodbye goodbye you were bigger than the whole sky

username tbh i can’t be mad at this

username same

liked by oscarpiastri, lissiemackintosh and others

ynnorris took a trip down under 🇦🇺

view all comments

username OMG GUYSSS THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username so we weren’t completely delusional huh😭

lissiemackintosh can’t believe you’re cheating on me 😔

ynnorris you’re my number one always! 🫶🏽

username she’s so gorgeous i’m speechless

username yn give me a chance pls pls pls

oscarpiastri you’re too much 😍

ynnorris do you want an australian kiss? 😛

aussiegrit kids please

username last pic is peak boyfriendism 🥵

username FINALLYYYYY

[csainzoperator]

"let's break up" ☆

summary: you text your f1 boyfriend "let's break up" as a prank.

trigger warnings: fem pronouns, mentions of seperated parents, mentions of killing (as a joke), nicknames, idk if there are more (?)

charles, carlos, lewis, george, max

lando, oscar, alex, logan, daniel

an: omg pls i need such responses. especially logan's cos that's literally me. but hope you had fun reading this, my loves!

[harrysfolklore]

the universe needs leclerc!sister x harry. by the universe i mean me

kiss a musician - hs

summary: harry wants to date yn leclerc. the only girl out of the four leclerc siblings. her older brother who happens to be a formula 1 driver is not happy about it folkie radio: guys you have no idea how nervous i am of posting this idk why 😭😭 i really hope you like this otherwise i'll feel silly okay

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 502,255 others

ynleclerc hot girls cry on their birthday 💌

view all 9,736 comments

username1 HAPPY BIRTHDAY LITTLE LECLERC

username2 she’s the moment

scuderiaferarri Happy Birthday, Ferrari queen ❤️♥︎ by author

username3 AHH WE SHARE THE SAME BIRTHDAY

pierregasly Wow! I still remember when you were a little kid and you wanted to play with Charles’ kart. Happy birthday 🎉 ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram when you and charles rocked justin bieber haircuts. cheers

↳ username1 HEEELP

carmenmmundt Happy birthday gorgeous gorgeous girl ✨ ♥︎ by author

↳ yourinstagram love youuu ty 💓

pascale_leclerc Joyeux anniversaire ma petite fille ♥︎ by author

lorenzotl Stop growing up right now 🥲🥲 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 the leclercs are cry babies when it comes to her

arthur_leclerc It’s giving old lady

↳ ynleclerc stfu you’re like 5

↳ username2 LOVE THEMMM

alexandrasaintmleux My girl ❣️ ♥︎ by author

landonorris HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE 😍 getting more gorgeous by the second ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 LANDO YOU’RE ON MAIN

↳ charles_leclerc How many times do I have to tell you to back off?

↳ username2 CHILL

lilyhme happy birthdayyy beauty, can’t wait to celebrate tonight 🕺♥︎ by author

↳ alexandrasaintmleux She has no idea of the surprise that’s coming her way

↳ ynleclerc JUST TELL ME ALREADY

charles_leclerc Happy birthday petite soeur, you might be older now but you’ll always be our baby ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 AWEEE

↳ username2 protective big bro

liked by harrystyles, ynleclerc and 2,011,268

charles_leclerc I’ll always look after you. Joyeux anniversaire ma petite soeur ❤️

tagged: ynleclerc

view all 13,944 comments

username1 AWEEE

username2 MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS

alexandrasaintmleux 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 ♥︎ by author

carlossainz55 Happy birthday @ynleclerc 🎉

username3 charles adores her so much i can’t do this

landonorris happy birthday (again) i hope you got my flowers @ynleclerc 😘

↳ charles_leclerc That’s it.

↳ ynleclerc HE DIDNT SEND ME ANYTHING HES JUST MESSING WITH YOU FFS 😭

↳ username1 HELP MEEEEEEEEEE

username4 what is HARRY STYLES doing in the likes

↳ username1 charles x harry lore is real

ynleclerc Love you forever 💓 ♥︎ by author

lorenzotl Before both of you became annoying teenagers

↳ ynleclerc stfu you’re like 50

liked by username1, username2 and 27,936 others

harryupdates Harry performing at a private event in Monaco tonight !

view all 1,976 comments

username1 WTF?????

username2 WHATS GOING ONNNNN

username3 GOD I MISSED HIM SO MUCH

username4 someone dig in more information bc wtffff

username5 MONACO OUT OF ALL PLACES THATS SO RANDOM

username6 YALL I HAVE INFO!! apparently this is charles leclerc’s (formula 1 ferrari driver) sister’s bday party

↳ username1 OMFGGG

↳ username2 THIS CROSSOVER

↳ username3 imagine having a rich brother who can get harry styles to perform at your birthday party

liked by harrystyles, landonorris and 654,835 others

ynleclerc BEST PARTY EVER 😭😭 thank you to my angels @/charles_leclerc @/alexandrasaintmleux for putting this together for me, HARRY STYLES ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME ???? love you all so much 💓💓

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, charles_leclerc, landonorris, harrystyles

view all 15,937 comments

username1 OMFGGGG

username2 OH TO BE YN LECLERC

oscarpiastri Coolest party ever 🤘♥︎ by author

username3 imagine being rich and pretty and having a rich and pretty brother who hires harry styles to perform at your party

arthur_leclerc Your gift from me was a Chanel purse, where is my post?

↳ ynleclerc sorry turtur but harry styles > chanel purse

↳ arthur_leclerc Fine I agree, Harry Styles is out of this world

username4 IT GIRL FR FR

francisca.cgomes I’m still hungover ♥︎ by author, iamrebeccad, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe

↳ iamrebeccad Same

↳ ynleclerc come to my place let’s bed rot together ♥︎ by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lilymhe, iamrebeccad

↳ username1 i just want to be one of them 😩

username5 charles really got HARRY STYLES like antisocial harry styles who never leaves the house to perform at his little sister’s wedding. wow

username6 THIS IS FOR THE F1 x HARRY GIRLIES

alexandrasaintmleux You deserve it my gorgeous girl ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc you’re my favorite human on earth

↳ charles_leclerc I paid for the entire thing…

↳ ynleclerc did i ask?

↳ username1 LOVE THEM 😭

harrystyles Happy birthday again, YN. It was a pleasure to meet you and your brothers. Big love to the entire family x ♥︎ by author, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc

↳ username1 HARRYYYYY

↳ username2 we NEED to see that harry x charles pic

↳ charles_leclerc Thank you for the performance, mate 🙌

↳ username3 this is still surreal to me

↳ ynleclerc best birthday thanks to youuuu ❣️

↳ username1 charles or harry?

↳ yourinstagram harry ofc

lorenzotl Love you so much, little one 💓 ♥︎ by author

landonorris When your babe posts you on main 😍 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 LANDOOOO😭

↳ username2 i love their friendship and how they mess around to piss charles off

↳ ynleclerc my main bitch 😘

↳ charles_leclerc I’m logging out now

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liked by charles_leclerc, harrystyles and 597,367 others

ynleclerc anything interesting happening in monza this weekend?

view all 13,199 comments

username1 COOL GIRL

username2 if charles doesn’t win then we don’t care ♥︎ by author

arthur_leclerc Is that my hoodie?

↳ ynleclerc whoops

iamrebeccad You’re hanging out with me 🥰 ♥︎ by author

↳ carmenmmundt And me ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc highlight of my weekend

username3 FORZA FERRARI

↳ ynleclerc forza charles*

↳ username1 REAL

landonorris Papaya looks better on you babe 🤩

↳ username1 sometimes idk if lando is just joking or if he’s being fr

↳ ynleclerc NO

↳ charles_leclerc I’m in your walls

username4 HARRY IN THE LIKES ???

charles_leclerc Ma petite soeur always supportive ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc im here for other reasons

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 599,637 others

ynleclerc HE WON 🥺🥺 i’ve never felt prouder of being your sister, you teach me what being resilient and fighting for your dreams means. IL PREDESTINATO. THE KING OF MONZA. FIER DE TOIN TOUJOURS

view all 13,986 comments

username1 AWEEEEE

username2 THE LECLERCS MAKING ME CRY TODAY

scuderiaferrari It's in his blood ❤️

username3 the way she was crying and hugging arthur when the camera showed them THE LECLERC SIBLINGS HAVE MY HEART ♥︎ by author

alexandrasaintmleux 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 ♥︎ by author

username4 BEST RACE EVER

landonorris I'll win more races for you babe 😘 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 LANDO STOP

↳ ynleclerc you're all talk and no trousers

↳ username2 i love their friendship sm

harrystyles Congratulations @/charles_leclerc! ♥︎ by author, charles_leclerc

↳ username2 hARRY STYLES???

↳ username3 THIS IS SO RANDOM WTF

↳ username4 LSJSAFH WHAT??

↳ username5 I guess he became with the leclercs after the party 😭

↳ charles_leclerc Wow thank you mate! ♥︎ by harrystyles

charles_leclerc Je t'aime petite soeur ❤️ ♥︎ by ynleclerc

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liked by username1, username2 and 18,037 others

harryupdates Harry having in dinner in Italy tonight !

view all 1,028 comments

username1 BABYYYY

username2 italyrry lives

username3 IS HE ON A DATE

username4 BUUUB

username5 i was there and he was with a girl 👀

↳ username1 hello spill the deets ??

↳ username2 HUH

↳ username5 the girl was really pretty and they were chatting and laughing all night long, they looked cute

↳ username3 IM PANICKING NOW

ynleclerc has added to their close friends story

replies:

carmenmmundt Omg you went on a date !! So happy for you beauty ✨

↳ ynleclerc love youuu carm

francisca.cgomes THATS MY BABYYY who’s the lucky guy?

↳ ynleclerc can’t say yet 🤫🤫

alex_albon Charles won’t like this..

↳ ynleclerc he doesn’t have to know

landonorris NOOOO YOU’RE MY BABE

landonorris WHO’S THAT????

↳ ynleclerc that’s a secret i’ll never tell

harrystyles ❤️

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liked by username1, username2 and 25,477 others

harryupdates Harry out and about in Monaco today !

view all 1,987 comments

username1 BABYYY

username2 HE LOOKS SO RICH???

username3 ooohhh is monaco the new italy ??

username4 THE OUTFIT IM SALIVATING

username5 dilf dilf

username6 singlerry is the best thing ever

deuxmoi has added to their stories

liked by harrystyles, alexandrasaintmleux and 601,275 others

ynleclerc happy ❤️

view all 14,837 comments

username1 OMG BABY LECLERC HAS A BOYFRIEND ??

username2 PRETTYYY

francisca.cgomes 😍😍 my baby! ♥︎ by author

username3 BRO CHARLES IS NOT GOING TO LIKE THIS

username4 WAITING FOR CHARLES’ MELTDOWN

lorenzotl Wow I didn’t know about this, I’m happy for your, soeur 🤍 ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 the only sane leclerc ♥︎ by author

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t support this

landonorris BABE?? ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 OMFG THE FLOWERS COULD BE FROM LANDO

↳ username2 LANDOYN IS REAL

leclerc_pascale ❤️ ♥︎ by author

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t support this

alexandrasaintmleux 🥹🥹 ♥︎ by author

↳ charles_leclerc Don’t support this

↳ username3 HELP CHARLES IS SO ANNOYING

arthur_leclerc EXCUSE ME WHEN WAS THIS

↳ ynleclerc just flowers turtur

username5 CHARLES WAS FOUND SOBBING

username6 HARRY IN THE LIKES

charles_leclerc YN Pascale Leclerc, answer your phone right this second

↳ username1 NOT THE FULL GOVERNMENT NAME

↳ username2 PROTECTIVE BRO

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liked by harrystyles, landonorris and 604,827 others

ynleclerc but god i love the english ‼️‼️

view all 15,002 comments

username1 OMG

username2 AHH I FEEL LIKE SHES DATING LANDO

carmenmmundt 🤍🤍 ♥︎ by author

username3 HOW DID CHARLES ALLOW THIS

leclerc_pascale Belle 💕♥︎ by author

username4 HOLD ON. THATS HARRY STYLES IN THE SECOND PIC??

↳ username1 YOU’RE RIGHT THOSE ARE HIS TATTOOS

↳ username2 OH LORD

arthur_leclerc JUST SPILL

↳ username1 yn not telling her brothers anything is so 😭

username4 someone put charles on a straightjacket

username5 so yn is dating either lando norris or harry styles ?? what an icon

landonorris YOU’LL ALWAYS BE MY BABE IDC 😤

↳ username1 SO ITS NOT LANDO

↳ ynleclerc dude give it up

gemmastyles 💓♥︎ by author

↳ username1 OH

↳ username2 STYLES-LECLERC CONFIRMED

username6 CHARLES IS RADIO SILENT THIS IS SCARY

alexandrasaintmleux Prettiest girl forever 🥰 i’m happy for you ♥︎ by author

↳ username3 charles is single now

lorenzotl Petite soeur! Your happiness is mine 🙌 ♥︎ by author

↳ ynleclerc 🥹

↳ username1 lorenzo is such a supportive big brother :(

charles_leclerc You’re not allowed to leave the house once you’re back in Monaco

↳ username1 HEEELP

↳ username2 HES SO DAMN ANNOYING

↳ username3 POOR YN

liked by username1, username2 and 21,937 others

harryupdates Harry out in London today!

view all 2,011 comments

username1 BUBBBB

username2 WHOS THAT

username3 guys guys yn leclerc had that same outfit on her last insta story

username4 THATS YN LECLERC 😭

username5 HARRYYN STYLECLERC CONFIRMED

username6 bro how did this happen…

username7 that’s why he performed at her birthday and he kept going to monaco OMG

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ynleclerc has added to their close friends story

replies:

francisca.cgomes 😂😂😂😂😂

alexandrasaintmleux He has his phone with him now

↳ ynleclerc i’ve muted the groupchat for my own sanity

alex_albon You’re going to give your brother a heart attack…

↳ ynleclerc that’s not on me he’s just dramatic

landonorris HARRY STYLES ????? HOW?????

↳ ynleclerc you don’t think i’m capable of pulling him?

↳ landonorris yes you are 😩

↳ landonorris you’ll always be my babe tho

harrystyles Don’t joke about that love I’ve been panicking all day

harrystyles has added to their close friends story

replies:

mitchrowland And one of them can run you over with a Ferrari, by the way

↳ harrystyles This is not helping my case

jefezoff 😂😂😂😂😂

gemmastyles You’ll survive brother (hopefully)

niallhoran YOOO you and Leclerc’s sister? How did that happen

↳ harrystyles I’ll tell you about it if i make it out alive after family dinner

ynleclerc you’re a cutie

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liked by harrystyles, alexandrasaintmleux and 602,838 others

ynleclerc 💋

view all 14,088 comments

username1 OMFG

username2 SHES INSANE

username3 GIRLLL ADDRESS THE RUMORS

gerogerussell63 🤣🤣🤣

alex_albon You're really going to give your brother a heart attack...

↳ ynleclerc he'll survive

↳ username1 THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

username4 THE HARRY LIKE PLEASE HES NOT SURVIVING THAT FIRST DINNER

username5 the vintage racing jacket and the shirt SHE KNOWS WHAT SHES DOING

arthur_leclerc DISGUSTING

↳ username1 HEEEELPPP

liked by username1, username2 and 48,047

gossiphub The Leclerc family was seen out to dinner in Monaco tonight, joined by Harry Styles, who's dating YN Leclerc

view all 3,099 comments

username1 OOOHHH MY GOD

username2 IT HAPPENED

username3 i can only imagine the talk charles gave to harry

username4 DID HARRY MAKE IT OUT ALIVE

username5 oh im praying for harry

username6 STYLECLERC IS ALIVE

username7 meeting her brothers 😭😭😭 i cant

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liked by harrystyles, arthur_leclerc and 1,022,337 others

yourinstagram dinner update: he made it out alive

view all 10,278 comments

username1 AHHHH

username2 THIS HARD LAUNCH

alex_albon 😂😂😂😂😂

username3 i just need to know how that dinner went

↳ ynleclerc enzo was a sweetheart as always, arthur was a fanboy the entire time and charles couldn't stop yapping about driving fast cars in order to scare harry

↳ username1 HEEEEEELPPP

pierregasly Now he needs to meet your chosen brothers

↳ ynleclerc NO

↳ francisca.cgomes Leave her alone ♥︎ by author

landonorris This is who took my babe away from me? 😩

↳ harrystyles Proudly ♥︎ by author

↳ username2 OMFGGGGGG

↳ username3 THIS IS TOO GOOD

↳ landonorris Can't even complain you're cool as hell mate

lorenzotl He's part of our family now ♥︎ by author, harrystyles

↳ charles_leclerc 😵

↳ arthur_leclerc CRY CHARLES

harrystyles First Leclerc dinner done. Now I need to survive my first Grand Prix ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 IM YELLING

↳ username2 OMFG HARRY AT A GP

↳ charles_leclerc See you in the Paddock, mAtE

↳ ynleclerc LEAVE MY BOYFRIEND ALONE

liked by harrystyles, ynleclerc and 2,011,272 others

charles_leclerc Ma petite soeur pour toujours ❤️🤷‍♂️

view all 16,043 comments

username1 AWEEE

username2 he's such a big brother

alexandrasaintmleux My 🤍🤍 ♥︎ by author

username3 i wish my brothers loved me

pierregasly Everyone needs to watch out for Charles when he's in big brother mode ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 tell that to harry styles

scuderiaferrari Name a more iconic duo ❤️

username4 I NEED TO KNOW HOW THEIR CONVERSATION WENT LIKE

arthur_leclerc I'll always be on your side @/harrystyles ♥︎ by ynleclerc, harrystyles

↳ username1 HEEEEELPPP

↳ username2 ARTHUR IS SUCH A FAN

↳ lorenzotl Same 🙌

↳ username3 HELP CHARLES IS ON HIS OWN

↳ ynleclerc my favorite brothers 🤍🤍

↳ harrystyles Thank you, Arthur and Lorenzo. I can't wait for golf this weekend x ♥︎ by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, ynleclerc

↳ username4 OMG HE HAS PLANS WITH THE LECLERCS YALL

↳ charles_leclerc I think I just got kicked out of my own family

ynleclerc you’re annoying and want to scare my boyfriend away, but i love you ♥︎ by author

↳ username1 they’re the besttt

[bonbonly]

i keep writing collegeau!f1 drivers, and honestly that has me thinking: (carlos, charles, max, lewis, daniel, lando and oscar! and this is sfw surprisingly lmfao)

→ carlos sainz is always out playing sports with his friends, but after a quick shower he will meet up with you in the library to study. he genuinely is really good about locking in, even if it's only for a few minutes and he manages to soak up all the information pretty fast. he's always willing to help you out, even if chooses to endlessly tease you if you get something wrong. he'll point out your mistakes, giving you more practice problems or drawing something on a board to visualize it for you. and while you do appreciate his help, it's hard to focus on the board when his hair shines like that under the light. you mutter some curses under your breath and get back to studying unaware that he secretly enjoys it when you get frustrated at him.

→ charles leclerc is awfully quiet at first and only shows up to piano rehearsals if you're there. he's very shy at first about his talent, but slowly opens up and let's you accompany him to classes and even recitals! he likes to laugh to himself if he messes up some notes, and loves when you'll lean forward to correct his fingers on the piano, his face just inches from yours. he just wishes you'd finally turn around to meet his expecting gaze, lips aching to be on yours. he plans on kissing you after his first major recital.

→ max verstappen and you both game regularly on the basis. whether it's in the computer lab, or at each others' dorms. he sometimes wishes you didn't just come to his dorm to hop on a game, but he appreciates every second he gets to spend time with you. when it comes to studying, both of you start off trying to lock in but it quickly turns into the both of you talking about how awful your professors are, or some funny story that happened to his friends. he likes to see you laugh, because it's when you really are yourself.

→ lewis hamilton likes to tag along with you when you're at karaoke events with your friends. he insists he can't sing, choosing to shy away from the spotlight. but after a couple drinks, and the way your hand wraps around his arm, tugging him to your warm body, he eventually gives in. the two of you spend most of the night screaming lyrics at each other and giggling hysterically when either of you mess up a line or two while singing. lewis swears he would love to live the rest of his like this with you.

→ daniel ricciardo ends up in your cooking class that you took solely because you needed a free elective. most of the class however is spent with dealing with his antics. he's tossing the flour at you, cracking the most awful jokes while cracking eggs (don't even ask) and all you can do is sit there and groan out loud. however, after a few classes, you realize that the class genuinely was boring and daniel was the only good thing about it. you'd sometimes grab his finished dishes and munch on it, which only causes him to lunge at you and now the both of you are on the ground laughing trying to explain to your professor why your casserole is now on the ground.

→ lando norris unfortunately decided to work at the university's daycare since all his money was going down at the clubs, and you show up to help him because you knew he was going to get overwhelmed. he was currently tackling a 3 year old who refused to let go of his curls, and you laugh out loud before running over to help him. when you manage to calm down the toddler and sing a few lullabies, lando's gaze softens and he can't help but secretly dream of having kids with you after you both graduate, having a small lovely family.

→ oscar piastri sits in the front of the class besides you. it's a hobby for the both of you to listen to the answers your peers give you, and turn around to give the nastiest side-eye ever. outside of class, the two of you laugh about what some of the responses were and you sometimes ask him if he ever judges you like that. he shakes his head, and says no. deep down, he wants to tell you that he thinks the world of you, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. what if you end up judging him instead?

[sports-on-sundays]

two for one / LN4 & OP81 / Part 1

Summary: Lando x female!Australian!McLaren marketing unit worker!reader x childhood best friend!Oscar - Two Formula 1 drivers who just so happen to race for McLaren also just so happen to have fallen for you. Takes place from Australian Grand Prix 2024 to Monaco GP 2024.

Warnings: cussing, jealousy, flirty friendship, angst, manipulation, lying, OH THE DRAMA, confusion, mention of throwing up, not feeling well

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: I feel like this idea is so unoriginal but I don't care. The work of the reader is not mentioned much at all because there's no way I'm putting the energy into that. Link to part 2

"We should have Oscar over!" your mother exclaims. "I'm sure he's going to b-"

"Wait, Oscar's coming over?!" your younger sister exclaims.

"No, no, no," you sigh. "He's not. Mum, he's busy. We can't be bothering him with that. He's got too much on his plate. It'll just be a burden for him."

"No, it won't! Oscar's always nice!" your sister, Ava, remarks.

You sigh. "He's polite. He's very good at being polite. But it would still be a burden for him."

"You get to see him, like, everyday-"

"Not everyday-"

"-but me and Mum haven't seen him in ages. Oscar's like an older brother!"

You roll your eyes. "I'll see what I can do."

You're surprised when it's Oscar who brings it up. A week before the Grand Prix, he comes to dinner, which is nice for your sister and mum, you suppose.

But it's after he leaves that your mum makes a comment you're not sure you like.

She sighs and says, "Oscar's so sweet, Y/n. I'm sure that boy loves you."

"Sorry?" you look up in surprise. It was said so casually, you weren't expecting such a comment.

"He's such a sweet boy," she starts, as though he's still the sweet boy from down the street that used to babysit Ava with you, and not a famous Formula 1 driver. "You've known him for so many years. I would completely approve of him as a boyfriend for y-"

"Mum, I'm twenty-two! I don't need you to approve who I date! " you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Yes, yes, I know. But don't you see the way he looks at you? He talks of you so fondly. He's just so kind with you- extra kind. More kind than how he is with other people."

You sigh, looking down at the tablecloth, picking your nails. "Well," you murmur, "if he really feels that way, he can let me know. But for now, I'm not interested in him... I... I don't think..." your voice fades off.

"Y/n. Haven't you had a crush on him for years? What changed that?"

You shrug, and murmur embarrassed, still not looking up, "I guess I just... moved on to someone else?"

"Y/n! You have a boyfriend?" your immature sister giggles.

"No! Just friends. But... I kind of like him, and I think he might like me, too."

"What's his name?"

You clear your throat, glancing down. You're not sure how to get out of this, so you decide simply to get up, saying you'll clean the dishes.

Because you know your mother would be, to say in the least, unhappy to know that rather being interested in Oscar, you're interested more in his teammate, Lando.

Or, at least, you think you are.

As you rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, you think. Lando really is your type, in looks and personality. Everything you want in a guy. He's got a good sense of humour, a kind heart, and an adventurous spirit.

Not to say Oscar doesn't have all those things. It's just different.

Besides, you like Lando's curly hair. You like his greenish eyes and easy smile. You like his tanner skin and dark eyebrows. You like his build, you like his hands; you're just more attracted to him.

On the surface, maybe Lando and Oscar don't seem so different. But to you, one is your best friend, and the other, you want, just maybe, as a little bit more.

Are you not appreciating Oscar? You don't know.

But you sure know how you feel, and nothing is going to change that.

Or, at least, you don't think anything will.

The whole weekend after that goes as usual, but you're happy to be in yours and Oscar's homeland. After the practice sessions, you're seated, sipping from a your water bottle, when Lando plops down next to you. "Hello."

"Hey," you nod to him with a smile. "How's it going?"

He smirks like the stupid idiot he is and says, "Better, now that I'm with you."

You roll your eyes, and look up to see Oscar walking over he sits down on the other side of you, and you comment, "It's pretty crazy, isn't it?"

"What is?" Oscar asks.

"We used to play in this park, you know? Remember, dragging Ava along behind us?"

Oscar chuckles, nodding. "And my three little sisters. It was you and me, dragging around the four younger ones because our parents wanted a break."

"Yeah, your mum had Pilates or something," you joke.

He nods again with a grin. "Yeah. Probably something like that."

Then Oscar gets up and walks off, and Lando says, "So you two really have known each other forever?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Both born in Melbourne, a little over a month apart."

"So when's your birthday?" Lando inquires, crossing his arms across his chest.

"May 26. Funnily enough, that's the Monaco Grand Prix."

"Oh boy. I guess that means we'll have to drive well that weekend, even better. You know, for you."

"Yeah," you chuckle. "You're going to dedicate the whole Monaco Grand Prix to me?"

"Well, you certainly deserve it," he grins, patting your back before standing up and walking away.

Gosh, do you like both those guys so much!

"Ayy!" you grin, high-fiving Lando. "Let's go, baby! A podium. Nice job! And you too, Osc! Nice job, dude!" you add as he passes. He beams almost as big as Lando and nods, thanking you, before walking off.

"Well, what a gift," Lando winks. "To have you greet me after the Grand Prix."

"You're hopeless," you grin, rolling your eyes. "Good race, though. Solid, from both you and Oscar."

Lando suddenly wraps you in a hug, which makes your body practically turn to stone. "Thanks so much. You're so encouraging."

"O- Of course, Lando. Always."

"M-hm, and that's what I like about you," he says, pulling away from the hug, before walking off.

You're standing there, blushing softly, at the fact that Lando Norris just hugged you, when you turn your head, and, unexpectedly, see the brown eyes of Oscar lingering on you. As soon as your eyes meet, though, he swiftly turns his crestfallen face down, away from your face.

All the sudden, you feel a large, nervous stone in your throat.

Did he see you hug Lando?

Is that what that look about?

Or is he just down about not getting a podium at his home race?

Yeah, maybe that's just it. Anyone would be, right?

But, inside, you know that's not it. You know Oscar. He keeps cool. He's a good sportsman- a really good one. He's polite. He understands what had to be done.

So what's that look about?

Your brain can only reach one conclusion, and you're not sure if you like it.

Oscar takes a deep breath and starts walking toward you. Maybe it's time to say what he's thinking. If there's any chance of things going on with you and Lando, it's probably good for you to know how he feels, right? Just so there's no confusion.

At least that's what Oscar's figuring.

But, who knows, when he stands up and walks over, if he's actually going to admit it. For years, he's felt this way, and he's never had to guts to just say it, knowing you don't feel the same way.

Oscar wouldn't say he's scared of it, but he's definitely not keen on the idea of being rejected, which he assumes he likely will be.

You're just getting some coffee before you get back to your work, and Oscar, though he's really not thirsty or in want of any coffee right now, is ready to pretend he is.

The excuse is that he's tired. Perhaps it's too far-fetched, since it's pretty much a known fact throughout all of McLaren HQ that Oscar Piastri loves sleep, but-

Yeah.

He's 'super tired.'

You fill your paper cup up with coffee, in deep thought about work, and nothing else. Just as you're about to walk back to your desk and get back to the work, as you're turning around, a smooth hand grabs your forearm, and you spill your coffee on your McLaren T-shirt in surprise. "O- Oscar!" you exclaim, stumbling a bit at the utter closeness. "H- Hi!?"

"Hi," he says with earnest eyes. "I'm.... sorry."

"It's okay. Luckily it wasn't too hot. Oh well. I'll just go change; I have an extra shirt, sorry about that! Anyway, see you around!" And then you're off, leaving your half-full coffee cup sitting on the counter.

Oscar is left standing there, staring at the cup, his hand still out from where he had touched your arm.

Alright then. Well, maybe it's not meant to be.

Oscar's terrible timing is that he calls you the moment you're sitting next to Lando in his car, talking.

Lando is yapping. "-so then the girl said some spunky comment or whatever, and she reminded me a lot of you. You know, because I would've been the tough macho man in the movie that saves you from the fucking murder men, ri- Wait, who's calling?" he inquires, leaning over closer.

You laugh a bit at the interruption of his silly talking, and don't even think to not let Lando see who's calling. "It's Oscar..." you say vaguely, before looking up to meet Lando's eyes. "Why would he be calling?"

Lando shrugs, a curious streak in his expression. "Well, pick up, and see."

So you do. "Hello, Oscar?"

"I'm sorry for spilling coffee on you today," he says immediately, which causes a small laugh to escape from your lips.

"Osc, it's fine. I spilled it on myself. Did you call just to say that?"

"No," he laughs. "I was just wondering if tomorrow night you wanted to hang out or something..."

"Oh... yeah, sure, that'll work for me."

"Oh, nice. Alright. Also, one more question. I swear it's not related, either."

"Go on?"

There's a few moments of silence, before you prompt, "Oscar, are you still there?"

"Yeah. So... I was just wondering... are you dating anyone? Because. I know you and Lando are pretty close friends, and I was just wondering."

"Oh!" you say in surprise, your cheeks involuntarily going pink. And, without thinking, or considering, at all, you blurt, "No, of course not! Just friends!"

Immediately, you feel guilty.

You in no way lied, but you still feel like you just did something wrong.

Both you and Lando would say you're just friends.

But more and more, neither of you seem to want that.

And if Oscar's interested in you...

Oh, God.

"Oh, alright." He sounds somewhat relieved, which makes your heart tighten even more. "Alright, sounds good. Want me to just drive you from work? We could leave, at like, 8:00 P.M.?"

"8:00? What on earth are you doing, leaving at 8:00 in the evening?"

"I have something in mind."

"Uh?"

"You'll see. Trust me?"

"Alright," you shrug, still feeling very unsure.

"Okay. See you later, Y/n."

"Bye bye, Osc," you say, before hanging up.

The moment you do, Lando leans in close, with wide eyes, "What did he say?"

"Just wants to hang out."

One of Lando's eyebrows cock up.

"Lan," you chuckle. "That's all it is. Just like... like, how you and me just hang out."

"Mmm'kay, then..." he nods slowly. He's silent for a few seconds, before commenting. "Lan. That's cute."

"You're cute," you blurt, again, not thinking.

You really should try that more. You know, the whole thinking thing. You're sure you'd get in a lot less trouble if you used that brain of yours once in a while.

Lando immediately shows a pleased, toothy grin. "That's more like it," he comments, slipping his hand into yours, before he starts driving. "Up for an evening drive?"

"Always. Lan."

He winks, bites his lip, and gets driving.

"So, where are we going?" you ask as you walk to Oscar's car.

"I'm not telling you."

"Well, you're wearing a McLaren hoodie and grey jeans, so... somewhere casual."

"Good guess," he smiles, unlocking his car.

He opens the passenger seat door for you and as you're getting in, a piece of paper flies out of your pocket. You feel a lump in your throat as Oscar, with his quick reflexes, snatches it up off the ground.

Formula 1 drivers suck.

"Ca- Can I have that?" you ask quickly.

"Sure," Oscar says, handing it to you.

But it landed facing up. There's no way he couldn't have read the little note from Lando on it.

As Oscar walks around to the other side of the car, you read it over in your shaking hand.

You seem down today angel. If you wanna talk just find me or text me; i'm always here to listen. -lando

You feel your stomach lurch.

He even signed it with his name! The idiot!

And you weren't down! Just deep in thought! About Oscar, actually.

You let air escape from your lungs. You can feel the concern, the tenseness radiating off of Oscar as he drives, before, finally, he says, "Listen, I'm sorry for-"

"I know you read it. It's fine. It's nearly impossible not to. I would have, too."

"Angel?"

You bite your lip, looking out the window. "That's, just, uh, how Lando is..."

He regrips the steering wheel. "Y/n, you know me. If you lied on the phone, I won't be mad. I just want to know."

"I didn't lie, Osc. Lando was sitting right there when you called. I didn't lie."

"What... What were you doing?"

"Just hanging out. Just the same as what we're doing right now. You're both just my friends, okay?"

"Right," he says, but the sound barely escapes his lips, in only a whisper.

Soon, you reach the destination, and you're surprised to see it's your house. "Oscar...? Why'd you bring me home?"

"You'll see," he says with a soft smile. You both get out of the car, and he grabs some stuff from out of the trunk, before walking onto the lawn. You watch with your eyebrows scrunched together as he lays out a blanket. He sits down on it and pulls out a few little packets from his pocket.

"What's that?" you demand, still standing.

He takes your hand and gently tugs you down next to him. "Are you still a Tim Tam addict?"

You grin, holding your hand out to take a pack. "Thanks. And yes, I am."

"You're the most Aussie to ever Aussie."

"I could say the same thing about you."

Suddenly, he flops down on the blanket, laying down on his back, and you finally get the memo. "Stargazing?" you ask him carefully.

"If that's okay with you."

You grin, laying down next to him. "Why not?"

You lie there, side by side, staring up, and Oscar starts talking.

Listening to Lando is different. Lando is excited. Like he likes you so much and just wants to tell you everything. He talks a lot and makes you laugh a lot. Like, doubling over giggling kind of laughing.

Oscar makes little jokes, but just enough to make you softly chuckle. He doesn't go on and on. He pauses, as if he's thinking about what to say next. For you, that's a little awkward sometimes.

You feel awkward in silence.

But you like both of their ways of yapping.

After a while, Oscar is silent for longer than before, and you ask, "You asleep?"

He chuckles. "Of course not."

"Wouldn't put it past you," you tease.

"Fair enough..." he sighs softly, before, suddenly, you feel his warm hand brush yours. And in the dark, his fingers find yours, and he holds your hand in his.

You don't know what to feel. But surprisingly, it's something good.

His hand is smoother than Lando's, but smaller. His knuckles and veins are more defined, and his fingernails feel rougher than Lando's.

Here you are, just comparing the two.

Is that wrong?

But his hand is also radiantly warm, sending heat throughout your chilly body, causing goosebumps to appear on your arms.

You lick your lips, murmuring, "It's kind of cold. Can we go inside?"

There's a few seconds of silence from your friend next to you, before he says, "If the problem is that you're cold, I could fix that."

You look over in surprise, meeting his glimmering eyes, which appear to be merely black orbs in the darkness of the night. "How?" you venture.

Suddenly, he pulls you close to him, enveloping your body with his warm. You gasp a little, your heart rate immediately quickening. All the sudden, you don't feel so cold.

All the sudden, you get why you had a crush on Oscar for years.

All the sudden, the feelings come rushing back.

And in the light of the fact that you feel the exact same things with Lando, you have absolutely no idea what to think, feel, or do.

"So, are you, like, a bowling kind of guy?"

Lando shrugs. "I'm a you kind of guy, so any excuse I can think of to go somewhere with you, I will."

"Brutally honest, no?"

"Nothing's brutal about it," he grins, sipping from his cheap beer. He sets it down and stands up to have his go, before plopping back down on the couch next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"Lan," you chuckle. "You know, when you're bowling with only two people, as you've decided to do, there's not much time for cuddling in between turns." You say it lightheartedly. You don't mean anything by it.

But Lando does, apparently, because he says, "Ah, you know neither of his care about bowling. I care about you."

"Is this when I'm supposed to say I care about you, too?"

"Yeah, well, pretty much."

You lean closer, resting your head on Lando's shoulder. "I care about you, too. You're a great friend."

"Ah. Yeah, you too." He runs his hands through your hair for a while, before finally prompting you to take your turn. He stands up with you, as he has every time you've gone. You deliver the ball, but take just a step too forward, and slip.

Ah, fuck.

But suddenly, Lando grabs your wrist and pulls you back up, so you stumble right into him. He steadies you, wrapping his arms around you, and says, "Careful, there, Y/n. You okay?"

You clear your throat, blushing as butterflies swarm your stomach. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

He smirks. "No problem. That's what friends are for, eh?"

So, they both like me. And I like both of them. They're both so different in their own ways, but I like them both for different reasons.

And both likely expect the other likes me.

But regardless, they're both getting closer and closer to me. And I'm starting to

"Y/n-"

You slam your notebook shut, looking up to see Oscar. He's brought you on a few more...

Well, if you were to call a spade a spade, you'd say 'dates.'

But you just can't do that, because then you'd be saying you're dating two guys at once.

Neither of them have officially asked you out. Neither have ever even gotten close to calling you their partner.

So, that's how you convince yourself there's nothing wrong with it.

So they're not dates. You just don't know what to call them.

Either way, since the Tim Tam Stargazing Romantically Cuddling Under The Moonlight Night, Oscar has also taken you to dinner for his birthday and to a museum.

Oscar is different. He plans stuff out and then asks you if you're available. Lando asks if you're available first, and then just sort of-

Well, you never plan with Lando. You just do and go what and where you want that day.

It's different.

And yet again, you couldn't say which you like better.

"Y/n?" Oscar repeats, sounding more concerned now, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"Oh- yeah, what?"

He sits down next to you. "I know you'll be busy, just like the rest of us, since Miami is coming up fast, but..."

You smile nervously. "Yeah...?"

"Want to come over to my flat tonight? Or something?"

You swallow a lump in your throat as the picture of Lando's text from earlier today appears in your head.

I'm feeling good for Miami. Want to come over to my place tonight?

You had said 'sure.' You knew sometime soon, plans would overlap, and...

And that time is now.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Oscar asks, placing his hand on your shoulder. "You look pale."

"Just... uh... Lots of..." you clear your throat. "Lots of work to do before the Grand Prix. Just... you know, stressed. I don't think I'll be able to tonight. But thank you," you put on a weak smile.

Oscar's lips curl into a concerned, thin line, but he nods, taking his hand off your shoulder. "If you ever need someone to talk to, just remember- I'm right here."

Same exact words Lando says to me all the time.

"R- Right. Thank you, Osc."

He nods. "Of course."

As soon as he's gone, you text Lando, letting him know plans abruptly changed, and that you're busy tonight after all.

You end up being very busy laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, emotions swarming in your stomach as you come to the realization that you can't keep going on like this. Soon enough, you're going to either have to choose one and break the other's heart, or let go of both of them.

And for some reason, just that thought makes you start to cry.

The rush of adrenaline is enough to make you crazy. Enough to make someone do stupid things that they never, ever should.

But when Lando Norris, race winner Lando Norris, is there, in front of you, you scream his name. When he sees you, his whole face lights up, and he throws his arms around you, lifting you up. "Nice work!" You kiss him on the cheek.

He giggles. "Wouldn't have been able to do it without you and the whole team!"

"Ah, shut up and give yourself the credit for once."

He grins wider. "Yeah, I guess for once I do deserve it."

"Shut your face, loser- or, I guess, winner."

"No, you shut yours," he murmurs, and when he's sure no eyes or cameras are on you, pecks your lips, before pulling away and running off.

And you're left there, a dizzy mess of adrenaline and embarrassment.

Later, you're walking in McLaren, and suddenly, you hear Lando's voice, "Y/n, come here."

You look up to see him peeking out of his driver's room. "What?"

"Just come on. I've got something for you." He's looking at you like an excited little puppy.

You grin and shrug, walking in with him.

The door latches behind you.

"What have you got for me, Lan?" you ask, glancing around at his contained mess.

Suddenly, your back is against the wall, and Lando's face is merely inches away from yours. You gasp, staring at him, feeling his breath on your face. "This," he mutters softly, before his eyes flutter closed and his lips meet yours.

Excitement and guilt hit you at the same exact time.

But as Lando invites you, you lean into the kiss, and any thoughts of Oscar slowly leave you as you're consumed by the bliss of this intimate moment with Lando.

But when you finally pull away from each other, panting, you murmur, "We never, ever mention this again, okay, Lan?"

He just grins, his hand slowly caressing your cheek. "Of course. Friend."

You sigh shakily. "You supposed that was your little reward for winning your first race, huh? You already got a trophy."

"Ah, sure. But you're my real trophy."

Oh, Lando, and his so-called 'silver tongue.'

After literally just making out with Lando, it feels thoroughly terrible to pat Oscar's shoulder and tell him 'sorry' about P13. Yet you manage to keep composure, despite the heavy guilt, as you say, "It's just the luck of the draw sometimes, no? But there's always next race."

You want to break down crying. You want to say something, but at the same time, you don't.

You don't regret kissing Lando.

You like him.

You think you have a better chance with him than you do with Oscar.

But you like Oscar, too. And just doing that feels like...

A betrayal.

No matter how much you say you're just friends, when do labels stop counting?

Your head is absolutely spinning. You feel sick.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Lando asks, surprised to see you sitting in the hallway outside the offices, back in McLaren HQ, hugging your knees to your chest, staring somewhat vacantly, at nothing whatsoever.

"Hm? Hi, Lando," you say tiredly.

He slips down the wall next to you and says gently, taking your hand. "You can tell me. You haven't been yourself lately."

You swallow but don't respond.

He squeezes your hand and whispers, "Was it the kiss? Y/n, I'm sorry... I didn't-"

"No, no... It's... nothing."

Lando sighs. "So I take it I won't be able to be getting you to talk, huh?"

"S'pose not..." you sigh. There's no way you're telling him. He's fifty percent of the problem.

And Oscar's the other fifty.

So he wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back softly. You automatically lean your head into his chest, and he presses his lips into your scalp, gently kissing your hair. "I'll be ready to listen whenever you're ready to talk. But if you never are, I'll be here for you anyw-"

"What the-"

Both of you look up in shock to see Oscar looking right back at you.

Oscar's teeth clench. He's usually, nearly always, such a calm person. But now he doesn't look angry. He just look deeply hurt.

You bite back a very sudden sob.

And out of his hurt, for once, Oscar Piastri doesn't think before he speaks, and the bitter words fly out of his mouth: "Alright then! Just lie to me! Just give me fucking false hope for no reason, Y/n! That's great! Thanks a lot! Thank you! Lando, why don't you keep comforting her? Clearly she'd like that much more than anything I have to offer."

And then he turns on his heel and walks away, down the hall.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Lando snaps indignantly. "The asshole!"

Oh, Lando. He doesn't know. Not one bit.

"You stay here," he suddenly says angrily. "I'm going after him."

"Lando..." you sigh, burying your face in your hands. "Please, no..."

"Y/n..." Lando looks at you, uncertain.

You sigh again. "Okay, whatever." It's not like it can get any worse, can it?

So then Lando's off, and you're left to drown in your complete and utter regret.

Lando jogs down the hall, and the moment he sees Oscar's back in front of him, walking away from him, he calls, "Oscar, wait up."

He spins on his heel to face the Brit. His jaw is tight, and his eyes tender. "What?" he breathes.

"What the hell, man? What's wrong?"

"I'm not blind, Lando," Oscar sighs, leaning his back against the wall, shutting his eyes, tilting his face up towards the ceiling.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lando demands, facing him.

"I know you two are dating. It's fine. I was kidding myself. Playing pretend, yeah? Just like me and Y/n used to always do. It's fine. You know I'm the type of guy to adjust. I always do. That's what I've learnt. So, I wish you two luck, but I ought to be off now." Oscar then leans off the wall to keep walking away.

But Lando grabs his shoulder. "What? I still don't get it?"

"It doesn't matter. Forget this ever happened." The Australian doesn't sound bitter or angry anymore. Disappointed and resigned, for sure, but also accepting. "It's for the best. Just go comfort your girlfriend. She needs it."

"She's not- I mean- we- I-" Lando trails off, at a complete loss for words.

Oscar stares ahead, not facing Lando. "Lando, I like you. Let's not make this dramatic. I'm sorry; I slipped. Should have kept it to myself. Like I have for years. Never should have said a word."

"I..." Lando begins, but stops. "Oscar, I..."

"You don't know what to say?" Oscar asks, suddenly looking over to Lando with an actual, genuine smile on his face, surprisingly enough. "That's okay. Probably means you shouldn't say anything. Maybe you talk too much sometimes anyway."

It's just meant to me a light, friendly tease, but in this situation, it doesn't seem right. Knots twist up in Lando's stomach, and Oscar's words don't feel like a joke at all.

Lando knows more needs to be said, but there's nothing more to say.

Then, suddenly, to his somewhat shock, Lando hears your voice behind him. "Oscar," you say, walking toward the McLaren driver. You swallow. Keeping composure.

Oscar looks at you expectantly, tentatively taking a step forward, almost involuntarily.

You suddenly throw your arms around him in a hug.

"Hey, Osc," you begin whispering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what it might look like. But me and Lando are just friends, just like you and me are just friends. Like I said before- Lando is just like that. Besides, if you saw me sad, wouldn't you help me out in just the same way?"

"I... uh... O- Of course..."

"See? So there's nothing to be upset about. I wasn't lying to you."

Oscar's unsure eyes soften, and his eyebrows scrunch together. "I- Alright... Okay. Uhm."

"I forgive you, Oscar. It's okay," you smile gently, stroking his cheek.

You want to throw up.

Y/n. You lying, evil snake. Listen to yourself. So manipulative, and for what?

To save yourself.

To save Oscar.

But it is all selfish though, isn't it?

You're just trying to cover all your bases.

You take your hand away from Oscar's warm skin and say simply, "Lando- I think my problem earlier was just that I'm not feeling very well... Must have picked up some kind of virus... I... I should be getting home now."

And you run out, leaving the two McLaren boys standing there in the hallway, both absolutely speechless.

After quite an awkward week or so, the Imola GP comes around, and, like racing always does for you, the passion is too much to let any barriers soften your excitement.

You see Oscar first, who you congratulate with a high five. But he hugs you, saying, "How are you?"

"Huh?" you ask in surprise. "Great! Another super solid weekend for the team. P4 for you!"

"Hah, yeah," he smiles. "Well, I'm glad you're doing just as good as I am."

And later, wen you see Lando, your first comment is, "You could have won this one, too!"

"I know!" he laughs. "After knowing how it feels, P2 doesn't seem so glorious."

You click your tongue. "Don't worry, Lando. It'll come."

Well, in that following week, somehow, the two busy drivers both find times to ask you out.

As friends.

Lando tries to pry out of you what really happened that day with Oscar. You refuse to say it. Say it's personal, having to do with things from yours and Oscar's childhood.

More twisting the truth.

You're starting to hate how good you are at these disgusting games.

When you go to dinner with Oscar, it hurts your heart to see how trusting he seems. Even after it all, he thinks he's the one in the wrong. And he thinks all is well. That nothing wrong is happening. He asks you one more time if you're dating Lando.

You say no.

Because you're not.

Right?

And then, it seems, before someone can say 'I'm in love with two McLaren Formula 1 drivers,' you're walking into the Monaco paddock, the week flies by so fast.

You love Monaco. Doesn't everyone? It's one of the best Grand Prixs of the season in your opinion, if not the best. The atmosphere, the sea, the people- it's all just slightly different in Monaco.

Everything shines brighter in Monaco.

And, apparently, you do, too, because both Lando and Oscar are being particularly affectionate towards you this weekend. You can't tell if you like it, or if it's stressing you out. Likely both.

"So... Piastri-Leclerc, is it?" you ask Oscar with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that's right," Oscar says with a little chuckle.

Suddenly, one of your other coworkers nudges you and says teasingly, loud enough for Oscar to hear, "Ah, Y/n, that means you'll have to be Y/n Piastri-Leclerc when you marry him. What do you feel about that?"

Before you can say anything, Lando seems to materialize out of the depths of the McLaren garage to comment, "You know, Y/n Norris has got a lot better ring to it."

"The confidence!" your coworker laughs at Lando as Lando laughs genuinely and you and Oscar likely laugh more nervously than anything else.

That night, as you lay in the bed in your hotel room, you're having a sinking feeling, deep down in your chest, that soon enough, you'll have to choose.

You'll have to make a decision.

If you keep up this game any longer, one of you are going to get killed in the process.

You just have to be honest.

Who do you love more? Who would be better for you?

You've known Oscar longer. You connect with him better.

But you enjoy being with Lando more. You have more of the same interests.

Lando is always positive and confident. Oscar is always sensible and even-keeled, relaxed, and calm.

Lando's wild card or Oscar's solid rock?

They both care for and about you so, so much.

Oscar for all these years, was too scared to admit how he felt to you, and was only convinced to confess it when he saw how you and Lando were with each other.

So, essentially, jealousy was what convinced him to admit his feelings.

He hasn't even admitted it.

Lando has, many times. You've got Lando's number. He's straight with you. He's not scared to say it.

But at the same time... you've never believed in soulmates, but there's definitely something to the story of your life, and the way it always seemed to result in Oscar. He was always the one at the end of every tunnel.

You've known Oscar for a lifetime. You've known Lando for... what, two years?

You sigh deeply.

What the hell?

"P2, Oscar! P2! In Monaco!"

He's laughing as you throw your arms around him this time. Lando's there, patting him on the back. "Nice job, mate," he congratulates.

"Yeah, mate! Nice job is right!" you giggle.

Oscar leans away, beaming.

Then, as soon as Lando walks off, Oscar kisses your cheek gently, just letting his soft lips brush your cheek.

Your breath catches in your throat.

"Would it... would it be okay if I kissed you later? For real?"

You swallow. "We'll see about that."

But Oscar just smiles. "Will I have to wait until I win a race, too, to get a kiss out of you?"

You laugh, but a lump rises in your throat.

Why is he talking as if he knows?

"Y- Yeah," you breathe. "I reckon so."

He nods and leans away. "Well, happy birthday, Y/n! I've got something for you!" He's about to pull you by your hand, when suddenly, another hand grabs your other hand.

"Wanna see your birthday gift, Y/n?"

You look up to see Lando.

Literally, both of them, about to pull you separate directions.

Yeah, you think almost scornfully, That's right. You can each have a hand.

[diqldrunks]

ON AIR; op81 [smau]

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a/n: I 👏 WANT 👏 INTERVIEWER!READER 👏 TO 👏 BE 👏 A 👏 SERIES 👏 (please pretend you want it too)

cw/tw: none!! oscar piastri my favourite baby <3

(part two)

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

twitter

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oscar taglist (lmk if you want to be added); @llando4norris @apollosfavkiddo @mharmie-formula1 @mixedribbons @formula1-motogpfan @yesmanbabe @tallrock35 @mel164

[paddockbunny]

List a + #3 + landonorris

The Miracle

Summary : You had fancied Lando Norris for as long as you could remember, which was kind of awkward seeing as you were his sisters best friend and his family treated you like one of his own. But then at the Annual Norris Christmas Shindig you play the role of his fake girlfriend and things progress further than you ever could have thought. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 3, 932 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 18+, NSFW, adult language, sisters best friend trope, angsty, longing, oral male receiving. Images : curated from Pintrest

List : List A Prompt : "Do you know how many times I've imagined your lips around me?"

Until the Annual Norris Christmas Shindig came along. The week before Christmas Lando’s parents flung a big holiday party to celebrate the season and being Flo’s best friend, you were always invited.  The event was held at their sprawling home in Glastonbury and really was a “no expense spared” sort of atmosphere (something which you had come to expect of the Norris family.) As you got ready with Flo in her bedroom you couldn’t help but think of all of the other parties you had attended and of course how many times you and Lando had come close to crossing that invisible border. While dabbing the red lip stain you had chosen to wear with your finger you couldn’t help but smile at yourself in the mirror. There was a part of you that always felt you were invited because Lando’s parents were trying to secretly play matchmaker between the both of you. But again, wishful thinking. 

As you secured the lid back on the lip product you saw Flo’s reaction in the mirror. “Wow.” She kept blinking erratically. “You look insane.” A smile appeared on your face and your confidence shot up. You had never worn anything to this party that was so simple before. It wasn’t like you were a glittery type of girl but you would always try dress to theme. This time you just stuck to a plain simple burnt orange slip dress that really made your eyes pop and made you look like you were glowing. It was a non traditional colour for Christmas but somewhere subconsciously you landed on it because it reminded you of the exact McLaren shade - perhaps it would help you finally move past the barrier holding you and Lando apart. 

As you secured the lid back on the lip product you saw Flo’s reaction in the mirror. “Wow.” She kept blinking erratically. “You look insane.” A smile appeared on your face and your confidence shot up. You had never worn anything to this party that was so simple before. It wasn’t like you were a glittery type of girl but you would always try dress to theme. This time you just stuck to a plain simple burnt orange slip dress that really made your eyes pop and made you look like you were glowing. It was a non traditional colour for Christmas but somewhere subconsciously you landed on it because it reminded you of the exact McLaren shade - perhaps it would help you finally move past the barrier holding you and Lando apart. 

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived downstairs with Flo. A glass of expensive French champagne was thrust into your hand by the patriarch of the family, Adam, and almost immediately as you landed off the bottom step and you accepted the words of praise (“God, don’t you turn out well”) he lavished you with. Glancing around it dawned on you that you knew some familiar faces from all of the other parties you had attended at the Norris Estate and to those who weren’t so familiar you nodded politely. It didn’t take very long until Flo was telling you she was off to wish her cousins a “Merry Christmas”, absentmindedly leaving you alone. You nervously sipped your champagne and scanned the room. You weren’t purposefully trying to find him. It was as if your brain just consistently landed on him every-time you were alone without distractions. You thought of those grey green piercing eyes and his cheeky smile. To you, those were his most attractive features. Eyes and smile. Which made you stifle a laugh as you figured Lando would probably say your boobs and butt were yours if pressed on the question, typical boy. 

By the time you found him, an hour had passed and you had already drunk three glasses of champagne, which loaded your confidence. He was standing near the patio doors, attempting to look interested to someone who seemed super boring drone on and on about his own car collection. The boy needed rescuing. In your mind you hoped the bubbles and fizzy wine would do the trick and you’d be able to do the following smoothly. You picked up another two glasses from a circling waiter and took a deep breath, on the exhale you took off. With an extra sway in your hips and shoulders pinned back to display more of your cleavage you sauntered on over. 

“Sweetheart, there you are…” perhaps it was more cosplaying as Lando’s girlfriend rather than acting but act you did. And as this older man’s attention was firmly swallowed up by your tits and ass you lowered your head to give Lando a “don’t-blow-it-I’m-trying-to-save-you-look” which he gleefully gobbled up.  “Here I am, baby.” Lando’s flirtatious nature suddenly took hold of him. You could see it happen right in front of your eyes. He glanced down toward your silk covered chest himself. He was just trying to “sell it” and be convincing you told yourself. Unfortunately, the man didn’t get the hint by your entrance and remained standing opposite which lead you to saddle up along side Lando after pressing the glass into his hand. His body was warm. Dressed only in a pair of smart black pants and matching black dress shirt you wondered what you must have looked like together. Then as his free hand wrapped around your waist and rested on your hip you felt his eyes on you again. This would be easy with him. It didn’t need to be an act. As the thought of being his real girlfriend began to clutch hold of you you suppressed it as best you could. Which was hard considering he smelled so intoxicating and your body moulded against his perfectly.  “Sorry…” and then Lando made introductions. He avoided calling you his girlfriend (thankfully, you would have spontaneously combust if he had) but the intonation was there. Niceties were exchanged and then you made excuses as to why you were dragging him away. 

At some point Lando’s hand had found yours and you didn’t even notice until he pulled you through a set of doors out into the cold English air of the patio. He thanked you almost instantly.  “Every year he tells me the exact same thing about his classic car collection and every year I feign an interest.” You laughed as he pulled a bored face and rolled his eyes. “Really? I mean he’s eighty-seven, I don’t know how he’s even made it through the year let alone come here to drone on and on.” You laughed again. “That’s the first time I’ve managed to duck out on him though…because of you.” It wasn’t a laugh that left you this time but a coquettish smile.  You wanted to voice record him saying “because of you” so you could play it back over and over again. He drank the champagne in the glass and pulled yet another face. Lando didn’t like champagne. You knew that. He complained bitterly about having to get doused in it when he made a podium and it was worse when he was forced to take a swig of it. It was a running joke in his family that Lando liked fruity cocktails and non detectable spirits. Anything too strong or liquor tasting would have him gagging.  And you clocked the fact these were the type of pointless things you knew about him. You were almost so lost in the thought of his drinks choices you almost completely missed the look he gave you. He drunk you in from head to toe and back again. His eyes lingered a few moments on your boobs and you almost jokingly turned round so he could see your butt and bare naked back as well, but as the door to the patio opened behind you you decided against it. 

“There you are!” His mother exclaimed and started rattling off some family members and Adams colleagues names Lando had to go speak to. She made a sound noise of surprise when she happened to clock you - the person Lando was all alone outside talking too. 

“That’s some dress dear. You look magnificent.” She couldn’t stop smiling as she said it but Lando turned into his usual boyish self and made his way back inside behind his mum. He only done half a glance toward you as he did and you of course rolled your eyes again at the situation. You thought you had it in the bag. He was going to at least tell you you looked nice. But no, he just reverted into the Lando everyone else knew (because this wasn’t the Lando brimming with confidence that you had come to know.) 

As guests started filling out of the family home you went to try find your phone. You had forgotten where you had placed it during the course of the evening and it was much easier now the vast, mansion styled building was sans so many bodies. You checked the kitchen and the dining room because for some reason you spent most time in there. Then you swiftly checked the nice sitting room before checking the casual sitting room. No luck. It dawned on you that you might have left it in the Den when you went in there to gossip with Flo and Sav so headed straight there. Your heels click clacked on the marble floors so loudly you thought you might wake some of the family who had already snuck into their beds upstairs. And you feet ached in your fancy heels you had bought specifically to go with the dress - the ones you had to know pay off your credit card after the Christmas break was over. Reaching the Norris Den you swanned in and immediately went to where you had been sitting. The family relaxed most in here, watched movies and had together time. It was where you felt most comfortable whenever you visited and the room felt like laughter resided within the walls and posh wallpaper. You found your phone straight away and instantly unlocked it to check your messages, swiftly typing any replies you needed too. 

You weren’t startled until someone coughed behind you that made you jump out of your skin.  “It’s only me, sorry!” Lando. Of course, it was him. You laughed off your shock and rolled your eyes playfully.  “Why are you not away to bed?” You asked between glancing up at him and back down to the screen in your hands.  “Jet lagged.” He replied softly. In these moments you always forgot what he did for a job. You forgot the told it took on him physically and mentally just like you forgot what a rarity it was for him to be at home. And then, against your body screaming at you to go to your own bed (in Flo’s room), you simply asked; “Do you want some company?” To which he sheepishly nodded.

You talked about all different things from Christmas traditions to how he recently moved to Monaco. He asked about your horse and the fact you won a trophy recently (which the mere fact he knew that shocked you) and in return you asked about McLaren and the last few races of the season. The conversation flowed so easily between you just as it always did. And although the nerves never fully went away around him they were so much more manageable when you were alone with him. You just had to hope he never saw the glances down to his lips you kept making. 

“Your uh…your dress is the same colour as my car.” His focus suddenly switched and he finally decided to reference the fucking obvious.  “I chose it deliberately for you.” You were being sarcastic. Kind of. You were between the orange and the blue and figured Lando would have liked the orange more so picked it. In a way, you actually did choose it for him.  “You did?” He sounded gullible but it was cute “It fits you so well.” So he had been checking you out tonight. “I mean, you wear it well.” He was stumbling over his words and you weren’t about to dive in to save him yet. “Your curves. It fits your curves and your ugh…” he flustered himself right out of words so nervously laughed.  “Thank you. I know what you’re trying to say.” 

As it moved on again you became lost in the conversation about how hard it was to work and live so far from home. He was talking to you as if you were his friend not his sisters. Lando was so open and honest that it made you feel all the more attracted to him. You were listening to how he planned to change the furniture in his apartment come the New Year when your feet started cramping inside your high heels and you awkwardly tried to ignore it, and failed. “What’s wrong?” He asked immediately. “Are they hurting?” He saw your attention go toward your poor little feet and suddenly without even asking they were in his lap and he was removing the stupid high heels. “How do girls walk in these without falling over?”  “It’s a skill.” You let out a sigh of relief when Lando finally got you out of the torture devices and gently kneaded the soles with his thumbs. It was perhaps the most intimate of things you had ever done with him. The kisses aside - considering they weren’t very romantic. He was so tender and his hands were so nice and warm that you closed your eyes for a second and let a small sigh leave your lips. It was an act that went so far beyond that of friends but you were reticent to lean into the idea it could be anything more until his hand slipped further up on to your calf. 

You breathed out his name and that was all it took. The look he was giving you was a look you had seen from guys before leading up to the moment they kissed you. God, you wanted him to kiss you. You wanted to feel his lips, taste his tongue, you wanted him. But Lando being Lando glanced away and you knew he was trying to talk himself out of it. But you would be dammed if you were going to let this moment slip away from you again. “Nothing ventured” you told yourself. You sat up and grabbed him by the shirt. Lando didn’t put up any hesitation. He came willingly to you. His mouth acted like it had been expecting yours. And as soon as your lips glided across his he clicked into action. One hand went around your waist while the other went through your hair, as he pressed your lips together harder, hungrier. Lando was a far better kisser than you remembered. He was feverish but took his time. He caressed your tongue with his own and groaned lowly into your open mouth.  “Lando…” you gasped his name.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” You believed him when he said it. Lando had a tendency of being brutally honest and therefore always said what he meant. It was one of the reasons you had had such a ridiculous crush on him for all these years. You always knew he was telling the truth. His comment filled you with this strange, warm, fuzzy feeling that you hadn’t been expecting. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all night.” He added as he used his strength to pull you into his lap. His hands gathering your McLaren coloured dress up around your hips. He kissed like a man possessed but then you were equally as desperate for him. You were getting exactly what you had wanted for the past ten years of your life. It was a Christmas fucking miracle.

Instinct gripped you when his hand went to your hip and settled you down into his lap. You could feel how tight his black dress trousers had gotten as you moved your hips back and forth across him. In truth, you were only trying to aid the pulsating ache that had begun to increase between your thighs. You hadn’t intended on feeling the impressive bulge growing in his pants. But you did and your stomach knotted with pure enthusiasm and passion at the thought of him being so aroused by you. He let a deep moan rumble up through his throat and you knew he was enjoying your movements. You sighed his name into his mouth and knew you had to show him how badly you wanted him. How you would do anything for him to stop seeing you as his younger sister’s best friend. Your hand found his neck. You almost decided against giving it a little squeeze in case he thought you were some kind of sexual deviant but he smiled against your lips.

“You’ll have to do it harder if you want me to feel it.” And so you did. You pressed harder and Lando responded by grinding up against your panty clad core. You always figured this would be what it was like with him. You had just spent a long time trying to get to this point. As he rolled against you for the fourth time your nerves had all but evaporated. Boldness replaced it – spurred on by the fact he was enjoying what you were doing to him – and so you broke your lips away from his. Showing no hesitation, you slipped down from his lap and got on your knees before him.

“Fuck…” Lando groaned at the sight of you before him. His hooded eyes gave everything away. He wanted this. He wanted you. You ran your hands up and down his thighs and slowly parted them so you had a place to slip between. Nothing else seemed to matter in the world. Time just slipped away. Lando watched your hands as they undone his belt and zipper. You smiled when you realised he was having trouble breathing but enjoyed the state you had managed to get him in. The tent that had formed in his trousers from your earlier actions was almost free. Lando helped you by lifting himself off the sofa while you tugged the designer trousers down his thighs. You wondered if he had dreamed about this and if he had pictured (or perhaps fantasied) about you in particular. You finally rid him of his black boxer confines. Your quick, steady movements proved to him you knew what you were doing and to just lie back and enjoy.

But Lando kept his eyes on you. Watching your hand as you slipped it up and down his impressive member. You always suspected Lando would be big but never so girthy. Your hand nearly didn’t fit around him. Glancing up you accepted his silent permission and your mouth watered. Never in a million years did you expect tonight to be the night you got to do this, blow him, fuck him, whatever was about to transpire. As your lips parted against his throbbing tip, Lando’s heavy sigh told you you were already doing a good job. And as you took more of him, his salty pre-cum already leaking on to your tongue, he groaned and admitted; “Do you know how many times I’ve imagined your lips around me?”

His comment spurred you on. It filled you with sheer confidence. It confirmed to you what you always knew. Lando wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You bobbed up and down on his cock, making sure you hollow out your cheeks as you glanced up at him. The pleasure you were giving him was written all over his face and you allowed it to go to your head. You had every right to feel smug. More so when his hand collected up your hair so he had an unobstructed view.

It didn’t take long for your work to be having the desired effect. You pulled him out of your mouth and paid some attention to the underside of his glistening, palpitating cock. Your hand moving up and down the long shaft whilst you did so. You were sure you were causing a mess. Your eyes had watered when he hit the back of your throat at your make-up no doubt ruined and yet Lando still continued to keep his eyes glued upon you as if you were the face of heaven. While you paused a moment to catch your breath – and perhaps register what you were actually doing – you ran your thumb over the beads of milky white cum that had slowly seeped out of the head of Lando’s member. It made you smirk knowing he came undone so easily for you and would be begging for his high in only a few moments. But as you let those feelings of pride settle in you also registered the feeling of hope blowing him was creating inside of you too. You hoped Lando wouldn’t regret this in the morning and you hoped he wouldn’t write it off as just “some fun” instead of what you wanted it to be – the beginning of him seeing you as something more and maybe even girlfriend material. But just like you had done earlier you reminded yourself “nothing ventured” and took him back into your mouth again with the sole intention of making him come this time.

Lando’s thighs tensed. His stomach muscles clenched and his cock twitched as he let out a deep, low moan as you took him over the edge. His hot, salty seed spurted into your mouth and you took every last drop he was giving you. The product of his orgasm – the orgasm you were responsible for – gathered and collected upon your tongue. Swear words flowed from him muddled in with gasps of your name and it was a sound you wanted to hear forever. You sucked a few more times to make sure you got it all before you felt his hand slacken and you pulled back. His eyes had momentarily closed but reopened when he felt you moving. You made quite the point in swallowing so he knew you had enjoyed what he had given you, which made him smile. You could see his brain working inside of his head. Desperately trying to think of words to tell you that he enjoyed what you had done but you already knew.

“Just…let me catch my breath.” He laughed and you really loved his laugh. You placed your hands on his thighs to help yourself back up and in fact raised straight to your feet instead. It was a move that perhaps was risky but you decided not to give him everything he wanted tonight. You wanted to hold something back so he was hungry for you and would be begging to fuck you from this day forth. He watched as you fixed your dress and picked up your heels and phone. All of your actions were quick and swift.

“Where you going? Don’t you want to fuck?” He was confused. His eyebrows knitted in the middle, as he looked up at you, cock still out and now lazily lying on his stomach. “That’s the thing about us good ones Lando, we always leave you wanting more.” You smiled at him and with every single shred of confidence inside of you strutted out of the room. You padded straight toward the staircase and paused briefly at the bottom. You hoped your plan of seducing him would work. You hoped your Christmas wish would finally, after all these years, come true now he had a taste of what was to come.             

[23victoria]

“I Love You” ❁

f1 grid x fem!reader

this is a drabble based of the “i love you but not saying it back to your partner” tiktok trend

wc: 1.7k

authors note: this is my first drabble! any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

Lewis

You saw this TikTok trend and found it funny. Lewis was getting ready to go to his training session so it was the perfect time. Setting up your phone discreetly to capture the moment, he walked to the door, ready to leave.

“I love you,” he said warmly.

“Bye!” you responded, busy with mixing the batter for your cupcakes.

Lewis paused, a bit taken aback. “I love you,” he repeated, louder this time.

“Bye, Lewis! Hurry or you’ll be late!” you repeated, waving him off.

Lewis’s brow furrowed slightly. “Is everything okay baby? Did I do something wrong?”

“Lewis everything is fine, you can’t be late for your training session. I’ll see you later!” you say still paying him no mind, making sure the batter is mixed smoothly.

Lewis starts to worry that he did something wrong. “Baby I'm sorry if I did something that upset you. Can you please say I love you back” he says getting ready to cancel his session.

Finally, you broke into laughter, revealing you were just playing with him. “No, it’s just a TikTok trend. I promise you did nothing wrong. I love you baby!” you say walking up to him.

Relieved, Lewis laughs giving you a quick kiss. “You got me good. I love you too,” he said, leaving with a smile.

Max

You are always up for a good laugh, so you decided to try the trend with Max before he heads to his meeting.

“I love you,” Max said, grabbing his keys to the car.

“Bye, Max. Be safe!” you responded nonchalantly from the couch watching a true story documentary.

Max stopped in his tracks. “I love you,” he repeated, his tone more insistent.

“Bye!” you replied, looking at the tv with a faint smirk.

Max’s usually confident expression faltered. “Is something wrong? Why aren’t you saying it back?”

“Saying what back?” you say with a confused face trying to mask your laughter.

“I love you, Y/N. Say it back.” Max says no longer in the door but in front of you blocking the tv.

You couldn’t keep a straight face any longer and burst out laughing. “It’s a just TikTok trend, babe!”

Max's shoulders dropped in relief, laughing with you. “You made me so worried! I thought I did something to piss you off or forgot an important day! I love you too.” he says shaking his head making his way to the door.

Lando

Lando loves to play tricks and pranks on you so you decided it’s time to return the favor. You set the camera up on the dresser as you sit up in bed. Lando is on his way to film a YouTube video for Quadrant.

“I love you,” he said cheerfully.

“Bye, Lando!” you replied, focused on your phone.

Lando stops in his spot, staring at you. “I love you,” he repeated, sounding more unsure.

“Bye! Have fun!” you said again, trying not to smile.

Lando’s playful demeanor turned serious. His heart racing. “What’s wrong with you?”

Looking at him confusedly, you say “Nothing, why?”

“Why? Um, maybe because you aren’t saying “I love you” back to me” Lando says now siting on the bed infront if you.

“Did I do something wrong? Why won’t you say it back” he adds.

Unable to play along anymore you laugh, saying “It’s just a TikTok trend, baby.”

Lando lays his back in the bed singing in relief, “You scared me, I was about to call Oscar and ask Lily to see what’s wrong with you.

“Aww baby” you say moving to laying on top of him. Smiling at him while you kiss his nose you say, “I love you!”

Lando smiles hugging you and flipping you over so now he’s on top. “I’m so gonna get you back, but I love you too.” he says giggling in your neck.

Charles

Charles was going to take Leo for a walk, you decided to stay back to make lunch. You set up the camera on the kitchen counter ready to prank Charles.

“I love you,” he said softly, giving you a kiss on the cheek as he hold Leo in his hands.

“Bye, Charles. Bye, Leo!” you say only paying attention to Leo not him.

Charles repeats himself. “I love you, ma cherìe” he says again, a little louder.

“Bye!” you repeated, paying him no mind.

Charles’s face showed genuine concern. “Is everything okay? Did I upset you?”

“Yes everything’s fine.” you say trying to ignore his presence again.

He sets Leo down and stares and the side of your head and says even louder, “I love you, ma chéri”

You do your best to hold your composure and not laugh while focusing on the task in front of you, “Bye Charles, be safe!” you say in a normal voice.

Charles' eyes bore into you and the next thing you know, you feel one hand under your chin, the other on your waist turning you to face him. “I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss.

You smile as he kisses you between each word, giggling at him, you say “I love you Charles.” “I’m just playing with you baby, it’s a trend going around on TikTok.”

Charles shakes his head and laughs. “Don’t ever do that again, ma chéri” “You really had me worried. Thank you for finally saying it back. I love you too.” he says smiling cheekily, giving you a kiss on the lips before he’s out the door with Leo.

Oscar

The trend has been going around on TikTok for a min now and you immediately knew you had to play this prank on Oscar. He’s always so calm and laid back so you wondered if this will get to him. He’s getting ready to leave to record some videos with Lando for McLaren, so this is the best time to do it.

“I love you,” he said with a smile, halfway out the door of the hotel room.

“Bye, Oscar!” you replied, not meeting his eyes.

Oscar stopped dead in his tracks looking confused. He turns his body around at the door. “I love you,” he says again, trying to get your attention.

“Bye, Oscar!” you respond, hiding your smile behind the blanket as you play a game on your phone.

Oscar still has a confused look on his face as he says, “I love you, Y/N.” You don’t respond instead just straight up ignore him.

He walks back into the room, closing the door. He stands at your side and repeats himself with his arms crossed. “I love you Y/N.”

You look up at him and say “Okay, hurry and go before you're late!”

Oscar looks at you dumbfounded and gets on the bed laying on top of you. You groan and try to push him off, “Oscar get off! You're going to be late! You have to go! you say still trying to escape free.

“No, not until you tell me what I did to make you so upset that you're not saying “I love you” back to me” he says , putting even more of his weight on you.

You laugh saying, “Aww, babe, it’s just a prank.“ It’s a TikTok trend!”

Oscar lifts himself off of you, and sighs in relief laying next to you, laughing. “You know I only just joined TikTok, you had me really worried there. You laugh rolling on him to give him a kiss. “I know. I love you too, babe, even if you do act like a millennial sometimes.”

“Hey!” he says as he rolls over trapping you as he attacks you with tickles to your stomach and kisses all over your face.

Carlos

Carlos is on his way to a photo shoot with Charles and Ferrari for Vogue. You decide it’s the perfect time to do the TikTok prank on him.

“I love you,” he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead, his eyes twinkling.

“Bye, Carlos!” you reply, barely glancing at him as you walk away.

Carlos paused, looking puzzled. “I love you,” he repeated, his tone even louder.

“Bye!” you say again, stifling a giggle as you sit on the couch, searching through Hulu for a show to watch.

Carlos’s face falls. He walks towards you and says your name. You ignore him and now he’s sitting on the couch next to you just staring.

Feeling his eyes burn through the side of your head you turn to him and say “Did you forget something? You can’t be late for this photoshoot.”

“Ah okay, I see how it is. You acknowledge my presence to ask me if I forgot something but you can’t say “I love you” back to me?” he says moving closer to you on the couch.

Ignoring what he said, you say “Bye!”

Carlos doesn’t move and just sits there and grabs your chin and says “Repeat after me cariño. Say “I”

“Bye” you say.

“No, say “I”, he says again.

“Bye.” you respond.

Carlos shifts in his seat moving even closer to you, saying “Cariño say the word “I”

You look Carlos dead in the eyes and say “Bye.”

“Okay, that’s how you wanna play.” he says as he tackles you softly on the couch, your back hitting the sofa with him on top of you pulling your shirt up revealing your stomach.

Holding the shirt he says, “I’m going to ask you one more time, cariño, say “I love you.”

“No.” Just as that word escapes your mouth you feel him blowing raspberries on your stomach, tickling you as you try your best to escape from his hold. “Say it!” he yells. “No!” and now he’s biting your cheeks and kissing you all over your face.

“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you” Say it back he says not stopping his attacks.

“Okay, okay!” “I love you, Carlos,” you say breathlessly.

Laughing as you try to catch your breath. You kiss him all over his face, telling him, “It’s just a TikTok trend, baby. You know I love you so so much!”

Carlos laughs, “Of course it is, you and your TikTok addiction” “Hey!” you say eyes wide as he calls you out. “I’m just playing cariño, your TikTok addiction is cute, not so nice when the tricks are played on you huh?” “Yea, yea, whatever!” You say pushing him off smiling.

© 23victoria 2024 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate, or claim my work as your own.