#formula 1 imagine

[verstappenverse]

Lessons in Jealousy

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: You’ve been in love with Lando as long as you can remember, but to him, you’re just his best friend. Enter Max your longtime frenemy who offers to help make Lando jealous. But as Lando finally starts to notice you, you wonder if you were chasing the wrong heart all along.

11.3k words / Poll Winner / Masterlist

Celebrations were in full swing tonight, laughter and clinking glasses filled the paddock lounge, and there was Lando in the middle of it all. He’d just finished another impressive race and with each victory the swarm of admirers seemed to grow. You’d spent years watching him like this, taking it all in from the sidelines. From kids at the karting track you’d been through nearly everything together. Yet somehow he never seemed to see you in the same way you saw him.

The thought stung. He saw you as his constant, his dependable best friend, and though your heart had tried, time and time again, to beat in time with his, it seemed that it may never be.

As you sat on the edge of the lounge sipping a drink, feeling like you’d blended into the wall, a familiar, annoyingly smug voice brought you back to reality. Max Verstappen leaned against the wall beside you, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips as he nodded towards Lando.

“Never gets old huh?”

You’ve known Max almost as long as you’d known Lando, which is to say, too long. Your friendship with Lando was easy, uncomplicated, and comfortable from the start. Max though? That was different. With Max, it was like fire and ice.

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but from the moment he entered your orbit, it was as if the universe had decided you two were destined to push each other’s buttons. If Lando was easy warmth, Max was the kind of heat that could burn. He had a knack for getting under your skin, for knowing exactly what to say to rile you up, to make you bite back with sharp words and narrowed eyes. And you weren’t innocent in it either, you knew what set him off, what made his jaw go tight, what made his hands flex against his thighs like he was physically restraining himself from responding.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let him get under your skin. “You’re always so observant Max. Maybe try worrying about your own life?”

“Come on, it’s practically a free show,” he laughed, eyes not moving from Lando who was currently entertaining a particularly beautiful fan with one of his charming stories. You’d tried to accept his constant stream of dates, pretending that each one didn’t hurt a little more than the last, but the look in his eyes when he gazed at her… it stung.

“Surprised you have time to comment on my life Verstappen,” you shot back, not bothering to turn.

“It’s hard to miss. Every time I turn around there you are. Just trying to understand it.”

You glanced up at him. “Understand what?”

“Do you have a life outside of following him around?” he asked, raising an eyebrow

“Do you have a life outside of annoying me?” You fire back, hiding the warmth rising to your cheeks.

Every time you saw Max his quick wit and sometimes annoyingly perceptive comments rubbed you the wrong way. Lando would just laugh whenever you and Max got into your usual back-and-forth.

“You guys are worse than siblings,” he would tease.

Max seemed to enjoy poking at your devotion to Lando, teasing you about your years spent watching him with starry eyes, never once making a move. And yet, somehow, every taunt felt calculated, like he was trying to unravel something only he could see.

Max’s moved closer to you, his expression shifting into something almost thoughtful. “You know,” he said, his voice lowering, “I almost feel bad for you sometimes.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. I’ve watched you for years, following him around like he’s the last guy on earth.”

“Because he’s my best friend,” you retorted, feeling defensive. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Max tilted his head, considering you. “Right. And that’s why you look at him like he hung the damn moon?”

“That’s not—” You opened your mouth to argue but snapped it shut. Arguing with Max was like arguing with a brick wall. He always had a way of pushing buttons you didn’t even know you had.

He shrugged. “Look, I just don’t get it. You’ve been waiting around for him forever. And for what?”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that already. What exactly are you getting at?”

His gaze flickered. “You need a new approach.”

You raised an eyebrow. “A new approach?”

Max nodded. “Simple psychology. Stop hanging around like his shadow. Make him notice you’re not always there.”

“So, your grand plan is to just play hard to get?”

“Not just play,” he corrected, a sly smile on his face. “Be hard to get. Lando’s used to always having you around, if you change that up it’ll get under his skin.”

The thought took you by surprise. You’d spent years at Lando’s side, always dependable, always there. The idea of pulling back felt...risky. But Max was right. It was a small risk compared to the years of waiting you’d already put in.

“I could help you, you know.” His voice was so casual that it took you a moment to process what he’d just offered. When you turned to him, he wore an expression of mild amusement. “Give him a little push. Maybe make him notice you for once.” His eyes glinted.

You stared at him, caught between skepticism and intrigue. “And what would you get out of it?”

Max crossed his arms, that signature confidence settling over him. “Maybe it’ll be fun,” he said with a wink, then shrugged. “Or maybe I just want to stop seeing you look miserable every race weekend.”

His expression was unreadable, but something about the way he was looking at you made your stomach twist.

What did you really have to lose?

You decided to give Max’s plan a try. Over the next few weeks you started making yourself less available. At first it felt unnatural, like you were playing a role in someone else’s life. Instead of rushing to Lando’s side after each race, instead of being the first person to celebrate his podiums or commiserate his losses you found other ways to spend your time. What you didn’t expect was how quickly your free time started being filled by Max.

He had a habit of appearing at the exact moment you might have otherwise gone to Lando, redirecting your focus with an effortless pull. If Lando was occupied, Max would materialise leaning against a wall, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised as if he’d been waiting for you to notice.

What was worse? You didn’t hate it.

You started seeking him out. Not consciously at first, but enough that he noticed.

“Still following orders?” he’d ask whenever you showed up in his garage, as though challenging you.

“Believe it or not I’m here by choice,” you’d reply, trying not to smile at his cocky grin.

That was the thing about Max he pushed, he prodded, he provoked. But for all his sharp edges, he had a way of making you think, of making you see things differently. You found yourself spending more time with Max in a way that bordered on ridiculous. You started joining him for lunch, sitting in on debriefs you had no real reason to be in, talking strategy like you actually belonged there.

And more and more, you started to notice things you hadn’t before.

The way Max listened, really listened, when you spoke. The way his brow furrowed when he disagreed, the way he challenged you, not to be difficult, but because he wanted to hear your reasoning, wanted to understand your perspective. Beneath the arrogance, beneath the ever-present smirk and the witty remarks, there was an intelligence and insightfulness you hadn’t fully appreciated before.

The longer you took to text Lando back, the more he started to notice. At first he joked about it, throwing an arm around your shoulders like he always did.

“You’re getting popular, huh? Who’s keeping you so busy?” he asked, a little laugh in his voice. But there was something else in his gaze confusion, maybe even curiosity.

You only smiled, shrugging it off, but you could feel the shift.

“Let me guess,” Max said as you both sat outside the team’s motorhome later that week, watching Lando down the pit-lane goof around with a few fans, occasionally glancing in your direction, “he asked you to meet up tonight, didn’t he?”

You sighed, folding your arms. “Yeah, he did.”

Max scoffed, shaking his head. “See? It’s already working. He’s starting to realise you’re not always there when he wants you.”

You let out a short laugh, though there was uncertainty beneath it. “I don’t think that’s true. He probably just—”

Max turned toward you then, his teasing fading into something more serious.

“You really don’t see it do you?” he said, almost as if he were realising something in real-time.

You frowned. “See what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at you, at the space between you, at whatever invisible shift had taken place in the past few weeks. “You’re different when you’re not waiting around for him.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

Max leaned in slightly, voice lowering just enough to make you feel like he was letting you in on some kind of secret. “You’re not trying so hard to be the girl you think Lando wants. And, for what it’s worth I think this version of you…the real you, is a hell of a lot more interesting.”

The words settled in your chest, warm and unexpected, leaving you momentarily without a response.

Late one afternoon Max showed up at your hotel door twirling his car keys around his finger. “Come on,” he said, eyes gleaming with something that looked dangerously close to mischief.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Come where?”

He leaned against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. “I figured it was time to see if you’re actually capable of driving or just a glorified spectator.”

Your brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, grinning now. “Let’s go.”

Naturally, you took that as a challenge.

The two of you spent hours racing each other, bumping karts, stealing inside lines, and throwing accusations of dirty tactics back and forth. Sure, it was fast, intense, competitive but there was so much laughter, a kind of easy camaraderie that felt strangely liberating.

You had just pulled off your helmet, hair a mess and adrenaline still buzzing through your veins, when you spotted Max watching you with a small, unguarded smile

“You’re actually pretty good out there,” Max admitted, his voice amused.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you took a sip of water. “High praise from the world champion. Should I be flattered?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve got guts.”

You scoffed, leaning against the railing beside him. “Only because it’s you. It’s survival instincts Verstappen.”

Max turned slightly, his arm brushing yours as he studied you. “Oh, so now you’re saying I make you better? That’s interesting.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head, mock thoughtful. “Sounds a lot like what you said.”

You huffed, nudging him with your elbow. “Fine. If it makes you feel better you make me drive more aggressively.”

His grin widened. “See? You do get better when I’m around.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. “No I just want to beat you.”

Max bumped his shoulder against yours, casual, easy. “Same thing.”

You shook your head, unable to fight the grin pulling at your lips.

“Seriously,” he said, his voice softer now, “I think you’re tougher than you give yourself credit for. Definitely tougher than most people realise.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause, the words striking somewhere deeper than you expected.

Things slowly started to shift between you and Max. Little moments that should have been insignificant but somehow weren��t.

Like the way Max always seemed to find you in a crowded room, even when you weren’t looking for him. How he started waiting not in an obvious, deliberate way, but just enough for you to notice. Just enough that you felt it.

Or the way he’d pass you a drink at an event before you could even ask for one, like he already knew what you needed. The way he’d brush his knee against yours under the table at dinners, wordlessly checking in. The way he always had a sarcastic remark at the ready, but if anyone else gave you a hard time, he was the first to shut it down.

And then there were the more obvious moments.

Like how somewhere along the way, you had just become part of his post-race routine, not just because you were waiting for him, but because he was waiting for you too. Whether it was dinner, drinks, or decompressing in a hotel room after a long day. You just ended up there like you belonged, the same way he always ended up beside you.

Or the time he offered you a seat on his plane without a second thought, the invitation so casual it almost felt meaningless. You don’t need to fly commercial just come with me. As if it was the easiest thing in the world, like it was obvious you’d say yes. And when you did, the entire flight passed in quiet conversation and comfortable silence, his jacket draped over you when you fell asleep somewhere over the Atlantic, something you only noticed when you woke up, groggy and warm, finding Max pretending as if he hadn’t been watching you.

It wasn’t the same as following Lando around, lingering in the spaces he occupied, hoping he’d finally see you. With Max, you weren’t just there, you were wanted.

At some point, the teasing had shifted, too. It was still there, sharp as ever, but there was something gentler beneath it. A knowing look. A lingering glance. The more time you spent together, the harder it was becoming to deny.

As the paddock wound down one evening and the last traces of daylight faded into the horizon, you stepped out to find Max waiting for you. He was leaning against his car, arms crossed over his chest, that ever-present smirk playing at his lips.

You slowed your steps, eyeing him warily. “What?”

Max smirked, tilting his head slightly. “I just wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

Your heart stuttered for a fraction and you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Depends on the reason.”

He just grinned, rolling his eyes. “Get in the car. I have a spot I want to show you.”

You didn’t question it. That was the strange thing about Max, you never quite knew what he was up to, but somehow, it always felt like it made sense in the moment. So, you got in.

The city lights faded behind you as Max drove further out, leaving the familiar chaos of the paddock behind. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable if anything, it felt easy, like neither of you needed to fill it just for the sake of it, he just drove. One hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gearshift, his posture relaxed but focused.

You leaned your head against the window, watching the world blur past. “So, am I going to get an explanation at some point, or are we just driving until we run out of gas?”

Max huffed a laugh, his fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “Patience, princess.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but the blush rising to your cheeks threatened to betray you.

Eventually, he pulled off onto a secluded hilltop, a place that overlooked the distant glow of the city below. The sky stretched wide above you, stars blinking against the dark canvas of night.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to stargaze,” you murmured as you stepped out of the car, glancing at Max as his gaze lifted to the sky.

He smirked, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the stars above. “I’m full of surprises.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “That’s one way to put it.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “And what’s the other way?”

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “A walking contradiction. Impossible. Infuriating.”

Max chuckled as he looked back up at the sky. “You forgot irresistible.”

You let out a scoff. “Oh, right. How could I forget that?”

You sat beside him, close enough to feel his warmth in the crisp night air, but not close enough to touch. As your conversation continued late into the night, you started to realise there was a lot more to Max than you had ever really understood.

He was talking about his early days on the track, the relentless pressure, the suffocating expectations, the way the sport had consumed him before he was even old enough to fully understand what it meant. And with that came the isolation of a life that revolved around racing before he had the chance to figure out who he was outside of it.

“You don’t exactly seem like someone who needs…anyone,” you said, your curiosity genuine.

Max gave a small shrug, his gaze flickering toward the horizon. “You get used to being alone in this world. Everyone wants something from you, so you learn to keep people at a distance.”

His honesty caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his words settling in a way you hadn’t expected. “Then why are you helping me?”

He let out a short laugh, but his gaze held yours. “Maybe because I understand what you’re going through. More than you know.”

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning.

You weren’t sure what to say. This was new territory, uncharted, and unfamiliar.

Several weeks later you were all out at a club, the night was loud, the place packed with bodies. The bass thrummed through your chest, neon lights casting shadows over familiar faces as you navigated through the crowd. Lando was here, you’d spotted him earlier laughing with a group of people you barely recognised caught up in his own world.

You had found him, weaving through the crowd, your hand grazing his arm as you leaned in close, your voice barely cutting through the music. But the moment lasted no more than a few seconds before he brushed you off, distracted, his attention elsewhere. A joke thrown over his shoulder, an easy grin at someone else, and suddenly you weren’t even there.

Maybe it was the drinks, or the music, or the fact that he had no idea how much this all meant to you, but for the first time, it felt different. Like a crack forming in something you’d always assumed was solid.

So you had stepped away, retreating to the edges of the club, frustration twisting in your chest as you rested against the cool wall. Your shoulders slumped, exhaustion creeping in not just from the night, but from all of it. The waiting, the hoping, the years of being right there only to be left standing in the background.

That was how Max found you.

“Still hoping for a miracle?” His voice cut through the music, and when you turned your head, he was beside you, leaning casually against the wall like he hadn’t just read your mind.

You sighed, tilting your head back. “I don’t know anymore.”

For once, Max didn’t smirk, didn’t tease. When you glanced at him, his expression was softer, the usual sharpness in his eyes replaced with something closer to concern.

“You don’t have to wait for him you know,” he said simply.

You exhaled, turning to face him fully. “And what else am I supposed to do?”

He shrugged, but his gaze didn’t waver. “Maybe you’re too close to see it, but you’re worth a lot more than being someone’s second choice.”

Max’s words his unwavering certainty planted a thought in your mind that you weren’t ready to face. “I know you’re trying to help,” you admitted, your voice quieter now, “but it’s complicated. I’ve been friends with Lando for so long it’s hard to just—”

“Walk away?” Max interrupted gently. “Sometimes that’s the best thing you can do for yourself.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Max shook his head, as if letting you off the hook.

“Forget it,” he said, his tone lighter. “I know you’re not ready to give up on him.” And then he pushed off the wall and walked away, disappearing into the crowd before you could stop him.

But as you stood there, alone in the darkened corner of the club, Lando’s laughter echoing from somewhere across the room, you found yourself wondering if Max was right. And if he was…what the hell were you still waiting for?

One late night, you found yourself sitting with Max in the quiet hum of the Red Bull garage. His hands moved animatedly as he explained his thoughts on the upcoming strategy, eyes sharp with focus, completely absorbed in his own thoughts. He spoke fast, precise, running through every possibility, every variable, like his mind was operating on a level most people couldn’t even grasp.

It was mesmerising to watch.

“You’re staring,” he noted, barely looking up from the data, but the smirk in his voice was unmistakable.

You blinked, caught off guard, heat creeping up your neck. “Am I?” you deflected, tilting your head. “Maybe I’m just realising you might actually know what you’re talking about.”

Max let out a short chuckle, leaning back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he studied you with an infuriating level of amusement. “Careful,” he mused, his eyes glinting. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were impressed.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Let’s not get carried away.”

His smirk widened, his voice dropping slightly as he leaned in. “Too late. I’m taking it as a compliment.”

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile you couldn’t quite hide gave you away. “Fine. I guess you’re a lot better at this than I may have originally gave you credit for.”

Max raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “That almost sounded genuine. Say it again, I just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

You nudged his arm, laughing despite yourself. “Don’t push your luck Verstappen.”

Max just grinned, and he looked at you then like he knew something you didn’t, but before you could respond your phone buzzed on the table between you. You didn’t even have to check the screen to know who it was.

Lando.

You picked it up, your stomach tightening as you read the message. A simple, casual miss you.

Two words that once would have sent your heart racing now felt hollow. Forced. Like an afterthought rather than something real. Your fingers hovered over the screen before you exhaled quietly and set your phone back down without replying.

“What did he say?” Max asked, his tone unreadable.

“Nothing important,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the edge of the table.

Max didn’t press, but the atmosphere felt heavier, like there was something you’d both acknowledged without needing to say it aloud.

Then, with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Max stood, stretching his arms over his head. “Come on, it’s late let’s get out of here.”

You nodded, standing as well, but before you could say anything, he glanced at you, something unreadable across his face. “Goodnight princess,” he added as you headed your own way, his tone light, teasing like nothing about this night had affected him at all.

But when you looked at him, really looked at him, you saw it. The shift in his expression. The way his smirk faltered for just a second, like there was something else he wanted to say but wouldn’t.

Days later you were standing beside Max the night air was warm, thick with the lingering heat of the day. It could’ve been anywhere, a quiet corner of the paddock, or a rooftop overlooking the city, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the way Max wouldn’t look at you.

He had been quiet all day. His jaw was tight, his fingers tracing the edge of the bottle in his hand, his eyes fixed on the ground like he was thinking about something he didn’t want to say out loud.

You exhaled, shifting beside him. “You’re acting weird.”

Max scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

You arched an eyebrow. “You are. You’re never quiet this long unless you’re planning something dangerous.”

At that, he let out a breath of laughter, but it faded quickly.

“I don’t get it,” he said suddenly, watching you over his drink.

You frowned. “Get what?”

His jaw clenched slightly before he spoke, his voice quieter now, more measured. “How can he not see it?”

A strange sort of unease curled in your chest. “See what?”

“You.” His voice was steady, intent. “You’re always there, supporting him, understanding him…I don’t understand how he doesn’t see how incredible you are.”

Your breath caught, heat rushing to your face at the sheer honesty in his tone. Max didn’t say things he didn’t mean. He didn’t hand out compliments just for the sake of it.

“Max…”

He shook his head, setting his drink down on the ledge beside him. “He’s blind, or maybe just afraid. But you deserve more than this.” His lips pressed together for a second, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check. “You deserve someone who doesn’t take you for granted.”

You swallowed, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “It’s not as bad as you make it sound,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I know he cares about me, maybe not in the way I’ve always wanted him to but…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “When things got hard, when I needed someone, he’s never turned his back on me.” A small, almost sad smile crossed your lips. “We’ve been through so much together. He knows me better than most people do.”

Max’s expression was lost, but he didn’t interrupt.

“It’s just sometimes, it’s hard,” you admitted finally, your voice carrying the weight of years of unspoken doubts. “Because I know he cares really, in his own way, but I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough.” You shook your head, exhaling slowly. “Not in the way I want it to be.”

Max’s gaze softened slightly, the edge of his earlier frustration fading just a little. “You can’t keep waiting for him to notice,” he murmured finally, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was something else there too.

You shifted beside him, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I’m not waiting—”

Max cut you a look.

You sighed, looking down at your hands. “Okay. Maybe I am.”

Max exhaled, running a hand through his hair, glancing out into the night. For a moment, you thought that was the end of it that he would just drop it like he always did when you didn’t want to listen. But then, just as you were about to change the subject, he spoke again.

“I just don’t get why it has to be him.”

Your head snapped up, eyes locking onto his. “What?”

Max’s jaw tightened, like he regretted saying it out loud. But he didn’t backtrack. He never did. Instead, he exhaled sharply. “You act like he’s the only person in the world who could ever make you happy.”

Your stomach twisted. “That’s not—”

“Isn’t it?” His voice was level, but there was an edge to it, something restrained. He ran a hand over his jaw, looking away for a second before turning back to you. “I’ve seen you wait for him. Years. And I keep wondering…”

A lump formed in your throat. “Wondering what?”

Max swallowed, his hands flexing at his sides like he wanted to shove them in his pockets or maybe run them through his hair again, anything to distract himself. But he didn’t. He just looked at you.

“Wondering when you’re gonna realise you don’t have to.”

The words hit you like a punch to the stomach.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

Because what the hell were you supposed to say to that?

He leaned back against the ledge, tilting his head slightly. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice softer now, no teasing, just quiet sincerity. “I just want you to be happy. That’s all.”

You exhaled, looking down at your hands, the weight of everything settling deep in your chest. “Me too.”

Max nudged your knee with his, a small attempt to lighten the moment. “You’ll figure it out.”

You glanced at him, searching his expression, and found nothing but warmth in his gaze. “Yeah?”

He nodded, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. You always figure things out when it matters.”

You huffed a small laugh and just like that, the tension lifted, fading into the night. Maybe nothing had changed. Maybe everything had. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were waiting for Lando at all. Or if you were just afraid of what would happen if you finally stopped.

Lando’s behaviour changed even more in the following weeks as he felt your absence grow.

The late replies that once went unnoticed were now met with double texts. The easy, casual invites had turned into persistent attempts to recreate days together “just like old times.” He was calling more, messaging at odd hours, throwing your name into conversations like a tether, as if trying to remind you of your place in his world.

It should have felt like everything you had ever wanted. The attention, the shift, the proof that maybe this had been the answer all along. And yet, somehow, the thrill of getting Lando’s attention wasn’t as satisfying as you’d imagined.

And then, one night, everything changed.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, no dramatic moment of realisation. It was just Lando, the two of you standing together slightly separated from the crowd. You had noticed it the way his eyes lingered, the way his laughter softened when it was just the two of you, like he was seeing something new.

And then, just like that, he finally said it.

“You’re one of the most important people in my life,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Let me take you out,” he said suddenly, almost like he was realising it in real time. “Just us. Properly.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at him.

This was it.

Lando, finally seeing you. Finally wanting you.

For months, years really, you had waited for this. Dreamed of it even.

And when the moment finally arrived, you said yes.

A real dinner, just the two of you. No last-minute paddock meet-ups, no half-hearted invitations tacked onto group outings. A proper date. The kind you had imagined more times than you could count. And yet, as you sat across from Lando at a sleek, candlelit table, dressed in the outfit you’d spent way too long picking out, the excitement you had expected wasn’t there.

Instead, a strange mix of anticipation and dread settled in your chest.

You tried to ignore it.

Lando was smiling at you, talking animatedly about something, golf, or maybe a new sim rig setup, but you found your mind drifting. The restaurant was perfect, the kind of place you used to imagine him taking you to.

But something about the moment still felt…off.

You forced yourself to focus.

Lando leaned back in his chair, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers raking through the curls like he was trying to ease some unseen tension. “Everything is just so busy at the moment,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly. “Sponsor stuff, sim training, and, you know, the actual racing.” He let out a small laugh. “Barely any time to breathe.”

He smiled then, but there was something searching in his gaze. His fingers tapped lightly against the stem of his glass before he lifted it, taking a slow sip. “But I guess you’ve been busy too.”

You blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

Lando tilted his head slightly, the candlelight flickering in his eyes as he studied you. “I don’t know,” he said, voice lighter than his expression. “It just feels like I don’t see you as much anymore. Not like we used to.”

The words settled between you, and suddenly, the air felt heavier.

You hesitated, fingers curling around the stem of your wine glass, rolling it between your fingertips as if that would steady you. “Yeah…I guess things have just been different lately.”

Lando nodded slowly, but his gaze didn’t leave yours. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you said carefully. “I guess I’ve just been… busy.”

Lando hummed, unconvinced. “Busy with Max?”

You inhaled sharply, the directness of his words catching you off guard. He wasn’t teasing, wasn’t smirking. He was asking.

You placed your glass down, exhaling. “We’ve been spending more time together, yeah.”

“I figured,” he said finally, his voice even. “You two have been… close lately.”

You swallowed, feeling a strange mix of guilt and something else, something you weren’t ready to name. “It’s not like that,” you said quickly, but even as the words left your mouth, you weren’t sure they were true.

Lando studied you for another second, then sighed, shaking his head with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m not mad, you know,” he said, softer now. “I just… I guess I didn’t realise how much things had changed.”

Your chest tightened, but you didn’t know what to say. Because neither had you.

Lando nodded, then he leaned forward resting his elbows on the table, his voice dropping slightly. “Did I do something wrong?”

You swallowed, caught off guard. “No. Of course not.”

And it was true, wasn’t it? Lando hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really.

But even as the words left your mouth, doubt crept in.

Lando smiled then, that boyish grin that had always made your heart stutter in the past, the one that made it so easy to believe that maybe this could be something real. Something right.

“I’m glad,” he said, his voice lighter now, more assured. “Because I’ve missed you. And I’m really glad we’re finally doing this.”

You smiled, sipping your wine. “Yeah, it’s nice. Kind of reminds me of when things were simpler.”

The conversation flowed easier after that, the awkwardness from earlier slipping away, replaced by something familiar. Comfortable. For the first time that night, it felt like just you and Lando again. No second-guessing, no pressure, but deep down you knew there was still that lingering uncertainty in the back of your mind.

The next evening you found Max leaning against the hotel’s outdoor railing, looking out over the city lights. He glanced up as you approached, and you saw it the tightness in his jaw, the way his fingers curled slightly against the metal railing.

“You okay?” you asked, coming to stand beside him.

Max let out a slow breath. “Long day.”

You hesitated before speaking. “I went out with Lando last night.”

His jaw tensed. “I know.”

You studied him for a moment, the way his expression gave nothing away, the way his shoulders seemed just a little more rigid than usual. “Going out with him again tonight?” His voice was calm.

You frowned, something about the way he asked making your stomach twist. “Yes. I thought that’s what you wanted. Isn’t this your plan?”

Max finally turned to you then, he exhaled through his nose, a humourless chuckle escaping before he shook his head. “Yeah,” he said, voice quieter now. “It was.”

“Max…”

He looked away, his fingers gripping the railing a little tighter. “Maybe it wasn’t the best idea after all.”

You blinked, taken aback by the shift in his voice, the weight behind the words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Max let out a slow breath, shaking his head slightly, like he was frustrated, like he was frustrated with himself more than anything else. “Forget it,” he muttered, pushing off the railing.

“No,” you countered quickly, “tell me.”

He hesitated, his gaze searching yours, but whatever he was looking for he must not have found it, because instead of answering he took a step back. “Trust me, it doesn’t matter,” he sighed, turning towards the door.

You watched him go, frustration rising in your chest. “It does matter Max,” you called after him, but he didn’t stop, didn’t turn back.

His words hung in the air between you as he walked back inside. It wasn’t like Max to admit something like that to let something slip in a way that made him sound uncertain. He was always so sure, so stubborn, so relentless in his convictions. But tonight? He had let you see it. For the first time, you weren’t sure who this plan had really been for.

His words lingered in your mind long after he’d said them.

Dinners with Lando should have felt like everything you’d been waiting for. The perfect setting, the glow of candlelight, the easy rhythm of conversation. And yet, despite it all, the way he smiled at you from across the table, the familiarity that once felt effortless, something was missing.

It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t awkward. But it felt… off. Like a song played just slightly out of tune. Like you were reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore, grasping at the edges of a feeling that had already slipped through your fingers.

And worse, you couldn’t stop thinking about Max.

His easy smile, the way he always saw through you, the way he challenged you and pushed you in a way that never felt like a game. Just enough to make you feel. Just enough to make you realise that somehow he had carved out space in your life when you hadn’t even been looking. You weren’t sure when it had started, this creeping awareness, this feeling that had settled in the back of your mind, refusing to be ignored. But it was there now. Constant. Unshakable.

Sitting across from Lando you realised something that terrified you. You had outgrown the idea of him, outgrown the dream of what you thought this would be.

And yet, things didn’t get any better from there. If anything, they got worse.

Lando’s sudden attention and Max’s constant presence pulled you in opposite directions, leaving you stranded somewhere between what you had always wanted and what you had never expected to find. And then, one evening, everything came to a head.

It was after another race, the energy in the paddock still buzzing as people came and went, but you had stepped away from the noise, needing a moment to breathe when the familiar hum of certain voices caught your attention.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.

But the second you recognised Max’s voice, low, tight, edged with frustration, you froze.

“You know, you’ve got a real gift for not seeing what’s right in front of you,” he said, his tone sharper than usual.

You frowned, your heart already racing as you stood up, moving closer to the edge of the doorway.

Lando’s reply was instant, defensive. “What’s your problem Max?”

Max let out a hollow laugh, sharp and humourless. “My problem?” he repeated, his voice dripping with frustration. “My problem is that you’ve had her in front of you for years, and you still can’t see her.”

Your breath caught, your body going rigid where you stood, hidden just out of sight.

There was a beat of silence, then Lando’s voice again, louder now. “What are you even talking about?”

Max scoffed, the sound filled with disbelief. “You know exactly what.” His voice was rising, the usual restraint gone. “She’s there, every race, every time you win, every time you screw up. Every time you need someone, she’s there.” His voice wavered for just a second before he pressed on, his words cutting through the air like a blade. “She’s the one who backs you up. Who understands you. Who makes excuses for you when you don’t even deserve them.”

Lando exhaled sharply, the sound more irritated than guilty. “Jesus Max you’re acting like I don’t care about her.”

Max let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t care about her. Not in the way you should.”

Lando’s voice sharpened. “And I suppose you do?”

Silence.

The kind of silence that wasn’t empty, but charged, pulsing between them like the prelude to a storm.

Your stomach twisted violently, your pulse hammering in your ears.

When Max spoke again, his voice was quieter, but no less intense. “She’s incredible Lando,” he said, his frustration bleeding into something raw, something real. “She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s… beautiful.” His voice cracked slightly, like saying the words out loud was taking something from him. “And you’re too blind to see it.”

Lando was quiet for a second. "You’re being dramatic.”

Max’s voice was flat. “Am I?”

“What’s your deal man? Since when do you care so much?” Lando prodded.

There it was.

The question you had never dared to ask yourself.

“Because I…” He stopped, inhaling sharply like the words had gotten stuck somewhere in his throat. But when he spoke again, they came out hoarse, unguarded in a way you had never heard from him before. “Because maybe she deserves someone who actually sees her.” His voice was thick with something fragile. “Someone who doesn’t just notice her when she’s not there.”

Max wasn’t just arguing anymore. He wasn’t just frustrated with Lando. He was hurt.

Lando shook his head, disbelieving. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Max shot back, stepping forward now, his voice taut. “How is it fair to her? How is it fair that she’s spent years—years Lando waiting for you to notice something you never have? And now you suddenly care? Now that she’s not standing around waiting for you to decide?”

Lando opened his mouth, but Max cut him off.

“No, you don’t get to act like you’re some innocent guy in all this,” he snapped, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard it. “You don’t get to pretend you’re confused when you’ve spent this whole time taking her for granted.”

Lando’s face twisted, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about—”

Max took another step closer. “Then tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged, voice low, dangerous. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you’re not just doing this because she finally pulled away. Tell me that if she had never distanced herself, if she had never stopped running after you, if she never came to me, you still would’ve done something about it.”

Lando’s mouth opened slightly, like he wanted to argue, like he needed to argue.

But he didn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Max exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His voice, when he spoke again, was quieter now, resigned. “If you really care about her…if you actually see her like you should have a long time ago then prove it. Otherwise…” He swallowed, his jaw tightening. “Otherwise, let her go.”

Your entire body had gone numb, frozen in place as the weight of his words crashed over you.

Lando didn’t answer and you couldn’t listen anymore.

You found Max outside the paddock, walking with quick, purposeful strides, his shoulders tense like he was trying to outrun what had just happened. His head was down, his fists clenched at his sides, his usual easy confidence stripped away.

You followed him before you could think better of it, your own heart hammering in your chest, your mind racing with everything you had just overheard.

“Max,” you called, your voice unsteady.

He didn’t stop.

“Max!” you yelled.

He stumbled back a step, his eyes widening when they met yours, realisation crashing over him in real time.

Shock. Guilt. Panic.

You saw it all flash across his face before he masked it, his expression shuttering, his jaw tightening as he instinctively tried to school himself into neutrality. But his fingers curled at his sides, his shoulders rising and falling with deep, unsteady breaths.

He knew.

He knew you had heard everything.

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something, an excuse, maybe, a brush-off, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“What was that?” you demanded, breathless, your pulse still racing.

Max hesitated, and for the first time since you’d known him he looked unsure. His entire frame stiffened, his lips parting before he pressed them into a thin line, calculating his next move weighing whether to tell the truth or run from it.

Finally, he let out a breath, voice rough when he spoke. “I would never take you for granted,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “I would never make you wonder where you stand. I would never make you feel like you weren’t enough.”

His eyes never left yours, as he continued. “If he can’t see what’s right in front of him, if he doesn’t wake up every damn day knowing how lucky he is just to exist in your orbit. If he can’t see you, if he can’t want you the way you deserve to be wanted, fully, completely, without hesitation..."

“Then maybe I can.” his next words coming out softer, but no less certain. “Because I already do.”

The world stilled.

Your breath caught, your body betraying you as warmth spread through your chest, through your limbs, through every single place Max Verstappen had ever touched in some way.

For weeks, months, you had been fighting it. Pretending it wasn’t there. Telling yourself that this was about Lando.

But standing here now, with Max looking at you like this, like you were something to be fought for you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore.

The days following Max’s confession were a blur of introspection and uncertainty. Lando reached out, texting, calling, sending you memes like nothing had changed, like he was trying to pull you back into the rhythm of what you’d always been.

But everything had changed.

Because every time your phone lit up with his name, your thoughts drifted to Max. The quiet strength of his presence, the way he had seen you, really seen you, long before you had even admitted it to yourself. Because for all the sniping and bickering, for all the fire and ice between you, Max had always been there. Not in the soft, obvious way Lando was, but in the way that mattered. He’d challenge you, push you, piss you off, but when it counted, when you really needed someone, Max showed up. No grand gestures, no sentimental speeches. Just him. Standing beside you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And eventually, you knew what you had to do.

You needed to talk to Lando. Really talk.

You found him at the track, sitting in the back of McLaren’s garage, staring at his phone like it held answers he didn’t know how to ask for. He looked up when you approached, his expression flickering with something between relief and apprehension.

“Hey,” he said, shoving his phone into his pocket. “You finally decided to stop avoiding me?”

You sighed, sliding into the seat across from him. “I wasn’t avoiding you.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Oh so you just happened to stop texting back? And just happened to be everywhere except where I was?” His voice was teasing, but his expression betrayed him.

You exhaled, gripping the edge of the table as you tried to steady your emotions. “I needed space to figure things out.”

Lando’s smirk, the one he always used to defuse tension, flickered, then disappeared entirely.

“Lando,” you said cautiously, searching for the right words, unsure of how to say what needed to be said. “I care about you…I always will…but I also care about Max.”

His brows pulled together instantly. “What do you mean?” His voice wasn’t defensive, but it was careful, like he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

You took a steadying breath, your pulse quickening. “I’ve spent a lot of time with him this year, and somewhere along the way something changed,” you admitted, the words feeling heavier as they left your lips. “I see us all so differently now. And it’s… complicated.”

Lando’s expression shifted, his jaw tensing slightly. He blinked a few times, like he was still trying to process what you were saying. “So… you’re saying you like him?”

You hesitated, but there was no point in denying it anymore. “Yeah,” you said softly, your heart pounding. “I think I do.”

Lando leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face before exhaling slowly. His lips pressed together, his mind working through something you couldn’t quite place.

You could see it, the initial reaction he was fighting, the part of him that didn’t like it, the part that was still struggling with the idea of losing whatever the two of you had once been. For years, you had been his, his closest friend, his safe space, the person who had always been there, no matter what.

And now, you weren’t.

For a long moment he didn’t say anything. He just stared at the table, brows furrowed, jaw still clenched like he was trying to work out how he really felt about this.

“Lando?” you prompted hesitantly.

He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I mean… I guess I should’ve seen this coming, right?”

You frowned. “Lando—”

“No, I mean it,” he interrupted, sitting up straighter. “You and Max…I don’t know. It makes sense, I guess.”

You searched his face, trying to gauge how much of that was genuine. “You don’t have to pretend to be okay with it.”

Lando sighed, shaking his head. “I’m not pretending.” He paused, rubbing his palms over his thighs before looking back at you. “It’s just weird you know? I got so used to you being my person, even if I was too stupid to ever do anything about it.” His lips twitched into a small, almost bitter smile. “And now you’re…his?”

You swallowed, shifting slightly in your seat. “I don’t know what I am yet.”

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “You two have spent years arguing about everything. I always thought you hated each other half the time.”

You let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. “We do sometimes.” You shook your head, a small smile playing at your lips as memories flickered through your mind. “We push each other’s buttons, we argue, we drive each other insane. But somehow…it just makes sense now.”

Lando drummed his fingers on the table, nodding slowly as he processed your words. “So what you’re saying is you like the way he pushes your buttons?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not just that.”

He smirked slightly. “But it is a little bit that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe. But it’s also the fact that he sees me. He pushes me to be better. He doesn’t let me fade into the background or sit around waiting for someone to notice me.”

Lando let out a slow breath, nodding. “Yeah. That sounds like Max.”

You hesitated. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear.”

“It’s not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get it.” He glanced away for a second before looking back at you, his gaze softer. “Does he make you happy?”

The question caught you off guard.

Did Max make you happy?

The thought of him alone sent warmth spreading through your chest, and you realised you were smiling before you even had the chance to answer.

“Yeah,” you admitted softly. “He does.”

Lando watched you for a long moment, then let out a short chuckle. “Then that’s it isn’t it?”

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, if he makes you happy, then you should go for it.”

You blinked. “Just like that?”

He gave you a small, almost exasperated smile. “No, not just like that. I don’t love it, okay? I don’t love the idea…” He ran a hand through his hair. “But I’ve known Max a long time. And yeah, he can piss me off…” A smirk ghosted over his lips before fading just as quickly. “But he’s a good guy. And if he’s the one who finally made you feel seen then I can’t be mad about that. And I know that if he cares about you the way I think he does, then he’s going to treat you right.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your chest tightening.

“This might not mean much, but…” he started, voice softer now. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “For what?”

“For not being what you needed. For noticing you too late.” He swallowed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if things would have been different if I had figured it out sooner, but you deserved better than waiting around for me to get my shit together.”

Your chest ached at his words, but there was no anger, no resentment just an understanding that you had both needed to reach.

“I do love you, you know,” Lando added. “Maybe not in the way you wanted. But you’ve always meant a lot to me.”

You reached across the table, squeezing his hand briefly before pulling away. “And you’ll always mean a lot to me too.”

Lando smiled then. “Just don’t let him gloat too much about this, alright?”

A laugh bubbled out of you, and for the first time in months, it didn’t feel weighed down by uncertainty.

Things between you and Lando weren’t perfect. Maybe they never would be again.

But as you sat there, sharing a smile that still felt familiar, you realised something important.

You hadn’t lost him.

And maybe you were finally allowing yourself to find something new.

You went to Max the next night, your heart pounding with every step, anticipation buzzing beneath your skin like electricity. No more waiting, no more pretending. Every nerve in your body was alight with the urgency of it, the sheer need to see him, to tell him.

The moment he opened the door you could tell something was wrong. He stood there, gripping the handle tightly, his posture tense, like he had been expecting bad news. His hair was slightly disheveled, he looked restless, unsettled, like he was carrying a weight he didn’t know how to put down.

You hesitated, swallowing hard. “Can I come in?”

Max stared at you for a second longer, as if debating whether letting you in would make this better or worse. But then, with a sigh, he stepped back, holding the door open.

You slipped inside, the air in the room heavy, thick with unspoken words. The faint scent of his cologne lingered in the space, and you noticed the half-empty water bottle on the bedside table, the hotel key tossed haphazardly on the desk. It looked like he had been pacing, maybe sitting at the edge of the bed, getting up, sitting back down, as if he hadn’t been able to sit still since the last time you saw him.

Max ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly before turning back to you. “I get it,” he muttered before you could speak, voice gruff, like he had already convinced himself of the worst. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Your brows furrowed. “Max—”

“No, really.” He let out a breathless, almost bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “I already know how this goes. I saw you with him yesterday at the McLaren garage.” He forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re here to tell me that this was a mistake. That I got the wrong idea. That you’re choosing him.”

His words stung, not because they were true, but because he actually believed them.

Your throat tightened. “Max, that’s not—”

“If you’re happy, then I’m happy.” His voice was quieter now, you knew he was telling the truth, but still he was guarded, like he was preparing himself for impact. “That’s what matters.”

Something inside you cracked.

You stepped forward before you could second-guess yourself, reaching for his hand. He flinched slightly at the contact, his fingers twitching against yours, but he didn’t pull away.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Max’s brows knitted together, his body going still. “What?”

You swallowed hard, your thumb brushing over his knuckles. “About seeing me, wanting me?”

For a second you saw it that flicker of hesitation, the instinct to lie, to brush it off, to save himself from whatever heartbreak he thought was coming. His lips parted, as if he was about to say something dismissive, something easy.

But he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t lie to you. Not about this. Not when it had been clawing at him for months, maybe years.

His mask slipped, the exhaustion, the frustration, the sheer weight of everything finally crashing down as he exhaled. His voice when he spoke was raw, unfiltered, like he had no choice but to lay himself bare.

“Every word,” he admitted, his gaze burning into yours. His fingers twitched against your hand, his grip tightening just slightly, as if he needed something to hold onto. “I meant every fucking word.”

You had spent so long waiting, waiting to be noticed, waiting to be chosen, waiting for something that was never going to happen. And all this time, Max had been there. Right in front of you. Seeing you in a way you had never even thought to ask for.

Relief flooded through you, mingling with something that had been building for so long, something inevitable.

Your breath came shakily, your fingers trembling slightly as the truth tumbled out before you could stop it. “I think…” You swallowed hard, meeting his gaze, the weight of the moment pressing down on you like gravity itself. “I think I’ve been waiting for the wrong person.”

His entire body reacted, like the words had physically hit him, like he had been bracing himself for heartbreak and suddenly, inexplicably, found himself with something else entirely.

Hope.

His eyes searched yours, desperate and overwhelmed. “I didn’t plan this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand hovering near your cheek fighting against every instinct telling him to touch you. “But…I can’t pretend it isn’t real.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine.

It was real. It had been real for so much longer than you had even realised.

You let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. “Neither can I.”

“You mean that?” he asked.

“I mean it,” you whispered, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your skin. “I see you now,” you breathed, voice steadier than you expected. “And I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Max’s lips parted slightly. “Fuck,” he breathed, his forehead pressing lightly against yours as his other hand settled on your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Your fingers curled against his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

Max let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head against yours. “Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

You laughed, though it was shaky, uneven, because your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

Max’s hands flexed against you, like he was still struggling to believe this was happening. “I tried not to want this,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Tried to push it down, to ignore it, to pretend like it wasn’t tearing me apart every time I saw you waiting for him.” His grip on you tightened, his forehead pressing harder against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “But once there was even the slightest chance? Once I realised I wasn’t crazy, that maybe—maybe you could feel this too?” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “There was no turning back. I knew.”

“Knew what?”

“That I’d never want anyone else,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “That it’s always been you.”

The words sent a shockwave through you, your entire body reacting before your mind could catch up. A soft breath escaped your lips as you surged forward, your hands gripping his hoodie, your mouth finding his in a kiss that was everything, all the months, years of unspoken feelings, of stolen glances, of tension neither of you had been willing to name.

Max groaned softly against your lips, his hands tightening on your waist as he pulled you against him like he needed you closer, like there was no air without you. He kissed you like he had been starving for this, like he had spent so long convincing himself he couldn’t have it that now, finally, he was never letting go.

You gasped against his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss, tilting his head slightly to deepen it, to savour it, to own it. His hands slid around your back, holding you flush against him, his heartbeat racing just as fast as yours.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to press his forehead to yours again, his breathing was uneven, his lips swollen from the force of it. His fingers trailed down your arms, finding your hands, lacing your fingers together, he let out a quiet laugh.

“What?” you asked, grinning as you fought to steady your breathing, still feeling the ghost of his lips against yours.

Max shook his head, brushing his nose against yours. “I just…I never thought I’d get this,” he admitted, his voice lighter now.

Your heart clenched at the honesty in his voice, the way he looked at you like you were something impossible that had somehow, miraculously, become real.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “I’ve felt like this for longer than you probably realise.”

“Oh Max…”

He shook his head. “No, I need to say this.” His hands squeezed at your waist, his touch grounding, reassuring. “I used to tell myself I was just looking out for you. That I was just annoyed whenever you talked about him because I didn’t care…but the truth is I was jealous. So fucking jealous.”

His confession sent warmth flooding through your chest, making your fingers tighten in his hands.

“I’d see you standing by him, always waiting, always looking at him like he was the only one for you, and I’d tell myself that it didn’t matter. That you deserved each other.” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “But I could never really believe it.”

Your throat felt tight, your heart hammering against your ribs. “Max…”

“I spent so much time telling myself you’d never see me that way,” Max continued, his voice dropping even lower, more intimate. “That even if I wanted you, even if I needed you, it didn’t matter. Because he was always the one you wanted.”

Your breath caught, the truth of it settling deep inside you.

“But then…” He smiled, just barely, like he still couldn’t believe it. “You started choosing me. It wasn’t all at once. It was little things, sticking around in my garage longer than you needed to, texting me first, showing up even when you had no reason to.” His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, his gaze dipping down for a fraction of a second before meeting yours again. “And I realised I couldn’t just be your backup plan. I couldn’t just be the person keeping you distracted while you waited for him.”

You exhaled shakily, tilting your head just slightly into his touch. “Max…” You exhaled shakily, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “You were never just a distraction. You were never a backup plan. You—”

“I know,” he interrupted, smiling more now. “I know that now.”

His fingers brushed over your jaw, achingly gentle, his thumb traced along your cheek, making it impossible to look anywhere but at him.

“For so long, I told myself it wasn’t real. That it was just something in my head. Something I could turn off if I wanted to.”

You felt your chest tighten at the confession, at how much weight he had been carrying alone.

“But then you started pulling away from him,” Max continued, exhaling sharply, his voice almost breaking. “And I—” He shook his head, like the memory itself made him unravel. “I realised I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t want you.”

“When we first made that stupid plan I thought, this is my chance to help her. I thought, if I can just get her to stop waiting around for him, maybe she’ll be happy.” He swallowed hard, his eyes flickering between yours. “But I never planned for you. I didn’t think I’d be the one falling harder every second we were together.”

“You’re the one who sees me,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Not just when it’s convenient, not just when I’m standing right in front of you, waiting. You see me, even when I don’t know what I want. You make me feel like I matter,” you continued, your fingers smoothing over the lines in his jaw. “Not just because I’m there, not because it’s easy, but because you choose to. Every time.”

A shaky exhale left his lips.

And you weren’t finished.

“You’ve never made me feel like I had to earn my place with you,” you whispered, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t have to be louder, or funnier, or wait for my turn. I don’t have to prove I belong with you. I just do. You are the person who makes me feel safe, who pushes me without ever making me doubt myself. You don’t just listen, you understand. You don’t just show up, you stay.”

“And it’s not just that,” you continued, voice steadier now. “It’s the way I see you too.”

“I don’t think you even realise it,” you murmured, shaking your head slightly. “How rare you are. How brilliant you are. How you notice things before anyone else does. How your mind works so fast it’s almost unfair.” You let out a small breath of laughter, your hand still cradling his jaw. “They don’t see how funny you are, how effortless it is for you to make people laugh, even when you’re not trying. How much you care even when you pretend not to.”

Before either of you could say anything else, he kissed you again, slow and deep and certain, like he was making up for all the time he had wasted. You sighed into it, your arms winding around his neck, your body pressing into his as his hands gripped your waist, anchoring you against him.

He kissed you like you were his like you had always been his.

“I hope you know,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there, “that I’m never letting you go now.”

A wide grin broke across your face as you squeezed his hands in return. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Max let out a laugh, one full of relief, full of joy, full of you. He kissed you again, and again, and again, each one lighter, each one full of laughter, all full of something so impossibly right.

[trashytracktales]

hey gurlll first thing first id like to say that im IN LOVE with ur fics. not to be dramatic but im seriously on my knees whenever u post bcs how do u write them so GOODD😭😭😭😭 so i have a request hehe🤭 u can totally ignore this. no pressure!

if u would consider this, hear me out. lando and reader are childhood best friends. they are like two peas in a pot but something made them fought (nothing specific, u can write anything!) that had them not talking for almost 6 months which never happens. since they have the same circle of friends, they got invited to a vacation in portugal. the tension between them is like WOW. then one night, when everyone was already asleep, they had another argument maybe make it like an angry confession that leads them to ANGSTY HOT LONGING YEARNING MINDBLOWING SEX but turns out it was one sided where reader kinda disappeared the next morning lol idk u can imagine the rest. OK THANKS LOVE YA💋

Not quite us | LN⁴

🛥 summary ──── A cold winter fight shatters their friendship, but it’s the heat of the Portuguese sun that brings them back together, months later.

🛥 pairing ──── Lando Norris x fem best friend!reader

🛥 rating ──── explicit

🛥 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, mentions of drinking, angst and emotional tension, arguments, swearing, jealousy, smut, unprotected sex, manhandling, passive-aggressive behavior, pining, emotional miscommunication, past relationship dynamics.

🛥 word count ──── 8.6k

🛥 date ──── Apr. 23, 2025

🛥 a/n ──── Wrote this one straight off the vibes, just went with the flow and let the request guide me here and there. Sometimes the chaos cooks itself, so I hope you guys enjoy it either way ♥︎

IT’S NEW YEAR’S, and Lando would have a lot more fun if he stopped looking across the room every twenty seconds. But he can’t help himself. If someone looked at him right now, it would be so easy to read it in his body language: he is exasperated, beyond frustrated, and maybe a little drunk. His fingers encircle his glass so tightly that his knuckles have turned white, and his jaw clenches every time he sees the way she flinches when her boyfriend talks back to her.

Suddenly, the music gets too loud, the champagne is too warm, and even if he’s trying his damn hardest to pretend otherwise, his night is completely ruined.

She’s sitting on the edge of a sectional couch with her phone clutched in one hand, refusing to look up at her man, her face carefully blank in a way that screams something is wrong. All it takes is a blink of an eye and he walks towards the exit, visibly annoyed, leaving her behind.

Lando frowns while taking another sip of his drink, forcing a smile as one of his friends says something he doesn’t quite register. Still, he nods along anyway. But all he can think about is her. The girl he’s known since he was seven years old. The one who always matched his chaotic energy. The only one who managed to beat him at Mario Kart and made fun of his haircuts and once almost peed herself laughing during a round of mini golf when they were thirteen.

His best friend.

Or at least, she used to be.

It has been different for a while. They only see each other at events now, like birthday parties and New Year’s gatherings. It sucks, but it’s better than not seeing her at all.

It started shifting the day she met her boyfriend — some guy from uni, older than her, quieter, a bit too polished for Lando’s liking. She said he made her feel seen. Lando didn’t say anything then, just nodded, smiled and pretended he wasn’t dying a little inside.

He told himself he was just being protective, but truth is, he never liked the guy. Something about him felt off, and Lando noticed it in the way he was too controlling and dismissive at times. But Lando had no proof, therefore, no real reason to speak up. So, he stayed quiet. Let the distance grow. Let the invites slow. Let her disappear into another life that didn’t include him the way it used to.

There are a few minutes left until midnight, and he’s still watching her. She smoothes her dress with the palm of her hand, breathes slowly a few times, then gets up from the couch, apologizing with a small smile every time she bumps into other people in her path. Then, she disappears down the hallway, shoulders hunched, phone still in her hand. Her head is down, like she’s trying to avoid any potential encounter. At that sight, something in Lando twists and, for a moment, he thinks she’s going after her boyfriend, his body instinctively tensing. But he relaxes when he realizes she’s just turned right instead, stepping out onto the balcony.

Without thinking, he sets his empty glass down and slips away from the crowd, past the streamers and glitter and flickering lights, heading in the same direction she went. It doesn’t surprise him when he finds her deep in thought, typing on her phone then shoving it angrily into her purse.

Her back is facing him, arms folded over the railing now, the cold air nipping at her exposed shoulders. She must be freezing, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She’s also not turning when she hears more steps, then the door closing.

She lets out a breath, but it’s not relief. More like she’s trying not to cry. “Hey, Lan.”

She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s him. They’ve spent so much time in each other’s company that she’s memorized his footsteps, the sound of his sigh and the hesitation in his voice before he speaks whenever he’s unsure of his words.

Lando pauses a few feet behind her, careful, like he’s afraid she’ll shatter if he’s too loud. “You alright?”

Without waiting for her to answer, Lando just shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders from behind. The girl stiffens for a second, then lets his scent settle around her like a familiar comfort.

She knows things that no one knows about him, like the way his laugh changes depending on who he’s with, but the real one, the high-pitched one that sounds like a hyena giving birth, only comes out when he’s with his friends. She can tell when he’s nervous just by the way he starts tapping his fingers against his thigh. She knows he prefers sleeping with the fan on, even during the winter, that he can’t eat spicy food without tearing up, and that he pretends to like certain people just to keep the peace.

Her best friend.

Or at least, he used to be.

“He left,” she finally says, her voice just a whisper.

Lando moves to stand beside her, copying her posture. “What happened?”

“He said he was going home, but I don’t know.”

He blinks, confused. “Midnight’s in, like… five minutes?”

She shrugs, wiping under her eye with a knuckle, trying to be discreet. “Yeah, well. Apparently I was laughing too loud and drinking too much and fooling around. I was embarrassing him. So he left.”

Lando stares at her, stunned. “It’s a party. What the fuck is he expecting you to do? Sit quietly in the corner and sip water?”

Her laugh is short and sad around the edges, “No, but I know he doesn’t like it when I’m loud or hyper or… whatever.”

There’s a long pause in which she reconsiders her behavior, thinking that maybe her boyfriend is right. Meanwhile, Lando tries to find the right words to counter every single lie that asshole has fed her, the annoyance flooding back in. He turns his head to look at her, and her profile knocks the wind out of him. Her eyes are wet and tired, like she’s trying to hold herself together for longer than just tonight.

“Don’t listen to him,” says Lando quietly, playfully bumping his shoulder against hers, “I love your loud laugh.”

She looks over at him then, a warm wave of safety covering her from head to toe, despite the cold that feels like it cuts across the skin of her face. The words settle heavy between them: I love your laugh. Not ‘it’s nice’. Not ‘it suits you’. I love it. It means more than he probably meant it to. Or maybe it means exactly what he’s never had the guts to say out loud. Until now.

Lando swallows before continuing, “I don’t get it,” he says, “You should be with someone who wants to hear you, no matter how loud or hyper you are. Who knows how lucky they are to be in your presence.” She laughs, as if dismissing his words, but Lando insists, “I’m serious. I still don’t understand why you’re with him.”

The girl lets out a shaky breath, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “He wasn’t always like this.”

“I know.”

Lando’s answer sounds a little too sarcastic and, in response, the silence stretches between them once again. But it’s not empty this time. It’s charged. Heavy with everything they’ve never talked about, and all the months they spent apart.

She turns her eyes back to the view, but her fingers tug his jacket tighter around her body. And then, without looking at him, she speaks again, “No, you don’t. We didn’t talk much lately, so you wouldn’t know.”

Lando wastes no time, “And whose fault is it?”

She shifts her body towards him abruptly, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. It was just a question.”

“Right,” she nods once. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about it. I guess I just… needed my friend for a minute.”

Lando nods too, and steps close enough that their arms brush. Before she can say anything else, he leans in, uncertain but determined, and wraps his arms around her. Her cheek presses against his shoulder, seeking his comfort. The only problem is that there’s nothing casual about how Lando’s heart starts to race. His arms come around her tightly, holding her like his life depends on it, even though she’s the one that’s been ditched by her boyfriend on New Year’s.

They stay like that for a while, their breaths fogging between them in the cold night air. The space they share gets warmer, which makes her snuggle into his chest. She smells like citrus and champagne and every memory he’s ever tried not to think about too hard when he was missing her.

The girl pulls back slightly, enough that her face is tilted up toward his. And when he reaches to cup her cheek, her skin is smooth beneath his palm, her lips slightly parted like she might say something, but doesn’t. They just stare at each other, the same way you only look at someone when you’ve missed them for too long, and you’re finally close enough to touch but terrified to move any further, thinking that maybe they’re not even real.

The countdown begins in the background, a little muffled through the glass door, people shouting numbers like a slow drumbeat from the inside.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

“Break up with him,” Lando’s voice cuts through the haze, rougher than he intended.

One.

The cheers erupt from every direction. The sky bursts into a sea of light above them, fireworks flaring gold, silver, and pink. The noise is distant, like it’s happening on another planet. They wouldn’t know, because they don’t even look. Instead, her eyes are still searching his, confused and a little broken.

He could lean in and take it all, just this once, and blame it on the alcohol.

But she blinks, breaking the ephemeral magic of the moment. She takes a step back, then another, slow and cautious, until she’s out of his arms. “What?”

Lando doesn’t move. “You deserve better.”

“Lando…”

“No,” he shakes his head. “He treats you like shit,” his voice rises gradually, dipped in more emotion than he probably wants to show, “And I don’t know what’s worse: that you know it or that you allow it.”

She looks at him as if Lando is shapeshifting right before her eyes, and he does it far too quickly for her to have time to process.

“Stop assuming things about me,” she warns, all the warmth between them dissolving in an instant. “You don’t know.”

“I know he should’ve been here, kissing you right now. I know he made you cry instead,” he says, stepping forward, closing the distance that she put between them earlier. “I know he left you at a party alone because you were laughing too loud,” he continues, mockingly. “Do you hear how fucking ridiculous that sounds?”

Her voice is sharper next time she speaks, “You don’t know the full story, Lando. He asked me to go home with him, but—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts her. “Looks like he ditches you whenever you’re too much for him. And I can bet this isn’t the first time he’s made you cry, is it?”

She scoffs, “Oh, so now you’re paying attention?” she asks, adopting a defensive attitude. “It’s been months since you’ve shown any interest in me.”

Lando flinches like she just slapped him. “You’re the one who stopped showing up. It’s cause you’ve gotten busier. With him, eh?”

“Smooth, Lando,” she fires back in a disappointed voice. “You pulled away first,” she reminds him, pointing a finger at his chest; tears threaten her eyes again, but she blinks rapidly to clear them away.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know where I fit anymore,” he says, his voice cracking around the edge of frustration. “You were always with him. Always defending him. I didn’t want to be that friend who hovered too close or some asshole that oversteps your boundaries. Because, believe me, I was so close to cross a lot of those before deciding to back the fuck up.”

She stares at him, incredulous, as if all the months they have been apart have completely changed her childhood best friend. “So, instead of talking to me, you just ghosted me? Very mature.”

Lando’s jaw tightens before replying, “I needed space.”

“You disappeared,” she corrects him. “You didn’t just take space. You shut me out.”

“That was me respecting your sorry ass relationship.”

“No,” she laughs dryly. “You were trying to make a point.”

Maybe, Lando thinks, looking away. But that’s not the whole truth. It’s painful, not to mention frustrating, to watch someone you care about being treated badly. It may have been selfish on his part, but Lando couldn’t stand by and watch the girl who deserved it all get only a piece of it.

“You don’t like him,” she continues, voice quieter now. “I get that. But instead of saying it, you just judged me from a distance.”

“No, I don’t like him,” he admits. “Matter of fact, I despise the guy. But not just because of who he is. It’s because he changes you.”

Her eyes narrow. “That’s not true.”

Lando laughs, but he’s not amused in the slighlest. “You went from having fun to crying in a matter of minutes. Because of him. How many times has this happened before?”

“He never—” she tries to warn him, before Lando cuts her off again.

“Keep defending him,” he says, irritated. “Because God forbid someone call you out when you’re being steamrolled by someone who doesn’t see your worth.”

“And God forbid you admit that maybe you’re not always right!” she snaps. “You don’t get to parachute in and act like some moral compass. If that’s the case, where the hell have you been all this time?”

The question silences them both. He can’t say too much without saying it all, and she’s waiting for something that won’t get to her. Not yet.

Disappointed, hurt, and extremely tired, she shrugs his jacket off and throws it at his chest. “Happy fucking New Year.”

𝟳 𝗠��𝗡𝗧𝗛𝗦 𝗟𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗥

📍 Somewhere off the Algarve coast, Portugal

AFTER THE HECTIC life she’s lived in the past few months, a weeklong yacht trip along the Portuguese coast is all she needs. Blue water, rosé on deck, and most importantly, no drama.

She says yes before she even checks the guest list, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Everybody in their group knows about the social distancing between her and Lando. Plus, she always checks his calendar, keeping an eye out for the weekends he’s away, racing, meaning she can tag along without stressing that they’re going to bump into each other.

Of course, she still watches his races. Just because they stop talking that doesn’t mean she stopped caring about the dream that Lando has been striving for since childhood. That’s also why she knows that Lando will be in the UK for at least another week, as he mentioned in the post-race interview, which won’t interfere with their little getaway.

By Friday, however, things change drastically. It’s only when she’s already halfway to the marina — after spending the entire afternoon shopping with the girls — that Max texts her.

BTW, just so you’re not surprised… Lando is flying in tonight. I know things aren’t great between you two right now, but he’s still my friend as much as you are, and I didn’t wanna lie or make it weird :D

You okay?

For a moment, everything seems to slow down, including her heartbeat. All the sounds that surrounds her fade into the background, while she tries to steady herself against the sudden rush of emotions.

Is she okay? Well, for the most part yes. But that’s because she haven’t seen Lando in months. There are many ways she can react when they’ll finally be face to face again, and she can’t decide which is worse. But in the end, it doesn’t even matter, because she simply doesn’t have the time to analyze every scenario.

I’ll survive, she texts back.

She will.

She has to.

It gets dark pretty late, but the night is warm, balmy with salt and wine in the air. They decorated the boat’s upper deck with a string of lanterns, their golden glow flickering against the white hull, gently illuminating the space. The music thumps lazily from a speaker somewhere, low enough not to overwhelm the sea’s waves but steady enough to pulse through bare feet on smooth wood.

Someone’s uncorking another bottle of vinho verde, and a few of the girls are still in their swimsuits, legs tucked beneath oversized linen shirts as they lounge across sun-warmed cushions.

She’s also barefoot, her skin kissed pink from the day, a loose skirt swaying at her thighs as she spins around one of the support poles, smiling wide; she decided, hours ago, that she won’t let anything ruin her vacation. It’s the first time in months she’s felt this light, and has no intention to let the feeling be washed away by the waves of a past so distant.

Only when she realizes that she is, in fact, invincible and that nothing can shake her confidence, she hears a familiar laugh, the same one she’ll recognize anywhere. But she doesn’t turn to it immediately. Instead, her body stiffens as fast as if it’s controlled by a remote.

He’s here and, suddenly, the breeze curling in from the sea feels somehow cooler. It’s just a voice, but it’s his, and it sounds so melodic in her ears, even after all this time.

When she finally turns around, all the noise dials down.

Lando’s standing on the deck like he’s never been gone, a duffel thrown over one shoulder, his curls slightly damp from the flight or the heat or the mist. He’s in a loose, black tank top and shorts, his sneakers untied like he didn’t even bother to fix them. He’s already smiling when he sees Max coming to greet him with a drink in hand, sliding easily into hugs and handshakes. Everything is so normal that she almost rushes to the stairs to jump into his arms.

As if he hears her thinking about him, Lando looks up and their eyes catch mid-movement.

The music doesn’t stop. No one freezes. The conversation continues. And yet something just between them shifts, making Lando still for a moment. His smile falters slightly. The duffel slides off his shoulder and drops at his feet. His gaze lingers longer than it should, because he seems genuinely surprised, like he hadn’t expected her to look the way she does — lighter, freer, happier than the last time he saw her.

Like a low-budget movie, they just look at each other for a while and then, barely perceptible, Lando nods once. It is a subtle, tired gesture. Not warm, but not hostile either. More like: I see you. I’ll behave.

And she nods back: I see you too. I’ll try.

That’s all that it is. A small breath of peace in the warzone. Because they both know that this vacation isn’t about them. There are too many people they both love here, too many memories tied up in this group to be so selfish as to ruin everyone’s fun.

With that, Lando disappears below deck with a few of the guys, and the party continues as if nothing happened.

SOMEHOW, THEY’VE MANAGED.

It’s the last night on the boat together, and not once have they really spoken. Just kept on with the civil nods and carefully timed appearances. She took the mornings on the upper deck with a book and her sunglasses pulled low, while he suck to afternoons with Max and Keegan, sunbathing and pretending not to look over when she passed by.

Every time they went out for dinner, they sat at opposite ends of the table, pretending to be invested in conversations that barely held their attention.

When they went to explore the nearby cliffs and hidden beaches, they naturally split into smaller groups, Lando ending up with the boys, as usual, taking the off-road buggy trails that wind through dusty hills, while she tagged along with a few of the girls. They didn’t walk near each other. Didn’t even end up in the same group photo.

But the glances were a constant, and all of them have carried them both here, almost at the end.

There’s a bizzare quiet in the air tonight, the kind that only the sea can create — so deep, violent, and alive at the same time.

After soaking in her own heat for hours, she decides to step out of her cabin for a breath of fresh air.

They’ve ordered seafood for dinner, and her relationship with it is not exactly good. A small breeze brushes across her face, lifting her hair slightly, carrying with it the clean scent of salt. The boat rocks gently beneath her, and the stars above are strewn carelessly across the sky like spilled sugar.

The second she steps into the dark of the corridor and turns toward the small galley, her heart skips a beat. For good reason. Lando’s already there, barefoot and shirtless and deep in thought in the low light, leaning against the railing like he belongs in the night. One of his hands is resting on the cool metal, while the other is wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead.

His head turns when he hears her cat-like steps, eyes catching hers in the dark.

The only sounds are the gentle hush of the waves against the hull, and the occasional creak of the boat. Neither of them says anything, as if they don’t even know how to speak to each other after throwing cutting words at each other, all those months ago. The silence between them doesn’t make them feel awkward. Maybe just a little guarded. However, it’s very depressing, really, not having anything to say to the person who once knew absolutely everything about you.

It would be very easy for her to turn on her heels and walk back into her cabin, avoiding Lando, just like she has done all these days. But then she hears his whispered voice, and his mellow intonation is enough to make the entire planet stop from spinning.

“Everything okay?”

She swallows, caught in the stillness of the night as if she’s a thief. “Yeah,” she whispers back, even though it sounds more like a question than an answer. “Felt a bit sick.”

He nods slowly. “The shrimp?”

“The fucking shrimp,” she agrees.

Lando shrugs. “Ew.”

His reaction triggers a wave of warmth that washes over her, forcing a smile while thinking about the past. The memory flashes rudely uninvited. Still, she weclomes it with nothing but nostalgia in her heart. They were eight, crammed into a bed on a family vacation, and she’d eaten her weight in shrimp and clams at dinner, proudly declaring herself a seafood queen. Hours later, she threw it all up, right there, in bed, all over him. Lando woke up screaming, drenched in the smell of stomach acid, fish and betrayal and, ever since, he couldn’t even stand near a fish without gagging.

Cautious, she edges forward, bracing her arms on the railing only a couple feet apart from him, eyes fixed on the black stretch of sea. The moon paints a silver path across the water, waves shifting like oil under its light. For a few minutes, they just stand there like two ghosts, side by side, watching the view, but probably stuck in different memories.

“So, I’ll go back inside,” she says a little unsure.

His voice cuts through the quiet, “Stay,” says Lando without hesitation.

It’s not just the gentle plea that catches her off guard, but the way he says it. Like he means it more than he means anything else right now. Possibly more than he meant anything else ever.

Awkwardly, she moves forward, letting herself lean closer to him. That’s how she finds out that physical distance means absolutely nothing when it’s the emotional distance that kept them apart. More than that, there are many things left unsaid that fill that void.

Out of sheer curiosity — or plain stupidity, she’s not sure yet — the girl begins to walk uncertainly towards the edge of the space that separates them.

“You remember New Year’s?” she asks, the words coming out softer than she expects.

There is no trace of hatred or resentment behind her voice, which surprises her. She understands that she has, without realizing it, moved beyond their most tensed moment so far. And all that’s left now, besides her curiosity, is the fact that no matter how much time has passed, the two of them still know each other on a level they haven’t reached with anyone else.

Lando doesn’t look at her, but his jaw flexes. “Hard to forget.”

“I threw your jacket at you,” she continues with a small laugh.

“And stormed off like you were in a romcom.”

“To be fair, you were being a dick.”

He chuckles then, and the sound is gentle yet painfully nostalgic. “I probably was.”

“You talked like you knew everything. It was…” she hesitates, fingers tightening slightly on the rail, “A bit cruel. Even if it came from a good place.”

Lado nods. “I know,” he says, “I guess I didn’t know how to talk without sounding like some immature tantrum just because I was missing my friend.”

She glances at him then, studying the curve of his profile in the moonlight. The familiar slope of his perfect sculpted nose. The way his curls fall just a little longer then she remembered. The way he speaks but seems so deeply forgotten in the memory of that winter night.

“I broke up with him the next day,” she admits.

He turns, his eyes searching for hers. “Yeah,” says Lando, “I figured.”

Even though she tries her best, she can’t read his demeanor. He seems tense, even though their conversation isn’t hostile in any way. Not yet, at least. Still, Lando looks as if he’s bracing for some sort of impact that she’s not aware of. There something softer in his expression, though. Something hesitant that encourages her to keep him in that memory.

“I think about it sometimes,” she continues. “That night. All of it.”

He nods again. “Me too. ”

She looks over, eyes wide and cautious, but Lando doesn’t look away.

“But,” he continues, “I won’t apologize for what I said. Because I wasn’t wrong. You do deserve better. And maybe I had no right to say it the way I did, but I’d rather have fought with you than keep watchig you shrink yourself for someone who didn’t even appreciate you.”

His words hit like the waves, tightening her throat. “I get that. But in the moment, it made me feel…” she begins, eyes filling up with tears, “Like you stopped respecting me because of him. And I felt stupid for being so blinded that I lost sight of all the things that were the most important to me.”

The way Lando looks at her now makes her heart sink. Not with pity. Not even with regret. Just a dull ache, like he’s been carrying it with him for months, and he’s too tired to hold it tightly anymore.

“Come on, you know that’s not true,” he says. “I was just irritated and drunk. Watching you disappear like that wasn’t easy, and I didn’t know how to ask you to stay without sounding like a selfish prick. I should’ve just said something,” adds Lando. “Instead of sulking and keeping score and acting like you betrayed me for living your life,” he looks away then, back to the endless sea, eyes half-lidded like the movement of the waves might offer him something easier to face. Anything but this.

He had time to think and weigh his actions. But it all came down to those last few minutes, when it suddenly became too much for both of them.

“I missed you, Lando,” she confesses after a while, letting the words out in a small voice.

The silence that follows is no longer heavy with avoidance, but an intimate warmth that somehow infiltrates under her skin. It merges with all the sadness caused by the time they spent apart and, together, they create a new kind of feeling that she doesn’t yet know how to name. And, for some reason, she’s in no hurry to do so.

Uncertain yet courageous after hearing her admission, Lando’s hand finds hers along the railing and, to his surprise, she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she threads her fingers through his, like she was already waiting for it. For him.

It’s weird, she thinks, how their hands fit together like the end of a sentence that finally makes sense. So she keeps it there, feeling his pulse in her palm like it’s the most normal thing in the world. They can’t look at each other, though. And suddenly, the waves are so much more interesting than the mess they’ve created, their soft undulation bewitching them both, mirroring their feelings in a sick, twisted way; tamed at the surface, yet storming somewhere deeper.

In the chaos of her mind, she can feel the gentle way his thumb brushes the side of her hand. The way he squeezes her afterwards. Like a promise. And she knows, without either of them saying it, that this was always going to happen. That they are inevitable, like gravity pulling them toward the center of each other.

“Are we gonna go back to being cold in the morning?” he finds the strength to ask, voice barely above the hush of the tide.

Truth is, she doesn’t even know what the next few minutes will bring, let alone the next morning.

The girl turns her head slightly, her cheek pressing to his shoulder. “Well, I don’t know how to be your friend nowadays,” she admits, not to make him feel bad, but because that’s the only thing she’s sure of. Her truth.

Lando sighs, “Yeah, that’s not quite us anymore, hm?”

It takes another crushing silence before Lando turns to her completely. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter they can’t be friends anymore, because they’re way past that. Lando is way past that. All he wants is one chance to show her how much it means to him; every word, every touch and every single thought that’s been haunting him for days on end.

He looks like he’s on autopilot when he brings his other hand up to brush her jaw. After his movement, she takes the next step and leans into his touch. She opens her mouth, maybe to say his name, but the words don’t get the chance to get out, because Lando grabs her firmly and pulls her toward him. Hard. Like he can’t take the distance anymore.

His mouth crashes into hers without any warning. It isn’t careful. It isn’t sweet. It’s the result of months of silence, of aching, of watching and wanting and never having. It’s teeth clashing, breath catching, fingers curling so hard into skin that it’ll leave marks.

She gasps into his mouth, as if the ground is crumbling beneath her feet, but at the same time, it’s the most exciting feeling she’s ever felt. Her arms are instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him closer like she’s been just as consumed by what they didn’t say. Lando fists a hand in her hair, the other gripping her waist tight enough to bruise. He’s all fire, hot and desperate, and there’s not enough water that surrounds them to cool what’s raging in his chest.

He gives her the kind of kiss that says I missed you too and I’m sorry and I never stopped thinking of you all at once. Her hand constricts around his bicep, grounding herself in the feel of him: his salty lips and the way he exhales with a relieved sigh like she’s air after being underwater for far too long. It’s impossible not to feel how much he needed this, because there’s nothing left unsaid in the way he holds her. The truth — his truth — was always there, waiting for the moment they’d both be brave enough to let in.

The kiss deepens before either of them realizes what’s happening. And it’s her who leans in a bit further. That brings him back to the present moment, not because she is just as desperate, but because of how much she means it. How much she wants this. It’s right there, in the way her mouth moves over his, open and urgent, like a need that’s been burning for too long. It makes Lando groan silently when her teeth graze his bottom lip, her tongue flicking against his like a dare. A dare that he answers to, meeting her halfway, teasing, then licking into her mouth with a skilled confidence that makes her head spin.

Oh, he’s a good kisser.

Dizzy from the sudden intensity, she clings to his neck, tilting her head as he takes control, his hands finding their way back to her waist after roaming up and down her body, guiding her back a few steps until her spine presses lightly to the railing. The breeze kisses across her bare legs, her thin nightdress doing nothing to hide the way her body shivers. Or how hard he gets against her. She feels it instantly, like a sharp contrast between his swim trunks and her body, and it sends a jolt of heat right between her thighs.

Her breath hitches once they stop, glancing up at him, caught between amusement and want. “What are you so excited for?”

Lando meets her gaze with an innocent grin twitching at his lips as he shrugs, “Sorry.”

She can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation she finds herself in. Loud. The kind of laugh that throws her head back a little and makes her cover her mouth when she realizes its heat.

Lando just watches her, enchanted by her mere existence. And, without thinking twice, he asks, “How can anyone be embarrassed by that laugh?”

The sudden comment silences both of them. Lando, because he just heard himself saying it out loud. And her, because of how sincere he sounds. How tender.

Still grinning, he lets his forehead fall against hers. They may never encounter such a moment of peace again, so neither of them hesitates to take it where it’s supposed to go to: her tiny cabin. The narrow door clicks shut behind them, and the space is barely big enough for one person, let alone the two of them tangled in something so close it’s hard to tell where tension ends and need begins.

She backs into the bed, and Lando follows, eyes fixed to her like she’s the only girl ever. When they finally collapse onto the mattress, it creaks under their weight. Their knees bump. Shoulders brush. Lando’s arm wraps around her waist in an instant, and she fits there like it’s hers. That grip. Him.

Somehow, he’s bigger than she remembers. Or maybe she’s just never noticed how broad his chest is, how his legs stretch past the foot of her bed, how small her frame feels when she pulls him into her. And now, in the closeness of their embrace, it’s impossible not to feel it.

It intimidates her, but she keeps her hands all over him, warm skin meeting her palms. Her eyes roam without shame, wandering from his abdomen up to his pecs and then stop on his freshly kissed lips. Her fingers trail along his arms, feeling the strength carved into muscle by years of racing and tension. She watches the way goosebumps rise under her touch, and when her hand flattens over his chest, just above his heart, Lando exhales heavily, with a slight shudder.

He doesn’t look away, though. He doesn’t have the heart or enough willpower. He simply looks back at her, eyes burning, as if seeing her underneath him like this is the only normal thing in their messed up lifes.

“I need to know where’s your head at,” he says, his long fingers brushing the outside of her thigh.

She closes her eyes for a moment. Mostly because she finds it hard to pay attention when her childhood friend — the skinny little boy who used to be blown away by the slightest breeze — is now on top of her in the flesh, displaying groups of muscles she’s never seen on his body before, let alone touched.

Her hand stays on his chest, “Am I ever going to get my best friend back?”

His hearts breaks a little, because he realizes that both of them know the implications of her question. The answer, too, but she still wants to hear him saying it, because that’s the only thing that’ll make it true.

Lando’s eyes search hers for a moment too long, and something in him rearrange, the muscle in his jaw tightening before he leans in. “No,” he simply replies.

She figured. Still, it is not necessarily the answer itself that makes her emotional, but the way Lando said it, as if it is torture for him to even admit it.

“I can’t ruin myself over and over again, pretending that what I feel for you is small. It never was.”

She nods, lifting her hand to the back of his neck, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling him down until their lips are barely brushing. Lando’s hands are pulling at her, slowly sliding the straps of her dress down. He takes his time, undressing her like he’s unwrapping a present he’s waited far too long to touch. And when she’s standing there, bare and warm and only for him to see, he sits back to stare and take as many mental pictures as he can.

“You’re…” he starts, voice nearly breaking, “So fucking beautiful.”

She presses closer, hands moving to his shorts with urgency. Lando lets her, barely breathing and, when the last layer falls away, she looks down at him. All of him. His golden skin that glows in the dim light filtering through the porthole, muscles tightening under her hungry touch.

Impatient, his hand slides between her legs while maintaining eye contact, his fingertips brushing over the soft skin at her inner thigh before he presses just lightly against her entrance. The reaction is immediate, a sharp breath followed by a soft whimper that catches in her throat. Her hips instinctively lift toward him, and his own breath wavers at the sound.

“So wet,” he breaks off, almost spiraling from the realization, from finding out just how much she wants him. Just like he wants her.

For a moment, there’s something feral in his gaze, something that won’t let her move her eyes. Like he’s balancing on a tightrope of restraint, and she’s the drop waiting to pull him under.

“It kills me,” he admits. Then he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of her ear, “But you need to be quiet, darling.”

She nods, her breath still uneven, knowing it’s going to be anything but easy.

Lando presses a kiss to her shoulder, then her collarbone before he continues, “Even though I love it when you’re loud, you’ll have to save that for later.”

Just the thought of her, waiting for his next move all warm and wanting, has his cock already pulsing in his palm. He strokes himself slowly, gaze locked on her as she shifts beneath him, spreading wider with a shaky inhale.

As curious as ever, she glances down between them, eyes filled with want, and he watches her bite her lower lip at the sight of him, so hard and ready. The gap between them closes quickly, suspended in that final moment before everything changes. Her fingers curl into the sheets, watching Lando lining himself up, just barely brushing against her clit. Then, he pushes in with a whimper that sounds like it’s been clawing at his throat for months. Like this moment has been sitting just under his skin, waiting to become real.

“Fuck,” he pants, silently. “You feel better than I ever imagined.”

Right now, all her senses are inhibited by him. The weight, the stretch, the warmth, the way his hands frame her hips like she’s the only thing keeping him in check, and she’s the only reason why Lando isn’t unleashing hell yet. Her legs wrap around his waist, holding him close, as if her body already knows what her heart won’t let her say.

Lando. Lando. Lando!

But he shakes his head, his voice going lower than normal, “No, baby, Let me.”

The bed is laughably small, making Lando huff out a frustrated breath, one arm sliding under her thigh as he shifts them both, gripping her firmly to guide her where he needs her. It’s not graceful in any way, but there’s something about the way he manhandles her, lifting, adjusting, controlling the angle until it’s perfect, that makes her head fall back with a gasp.

He exhales through his nose, lips pressing in a thin line to avoid making sounds that could get them both into trouble. “There. That’s it.”

She lets him move her, pliant and trusting, her breath getting heavier when their skin brushes in all the right places. Every thrust is slow at first, drawing soft moans from her mouth that only make him harder. The way her body reacts only fuels him, encouraged by the way her lashes flutter, and the way her hands slide into his hair when she can’t find the words. She couldn’t say it anyway. Can’t give voice to what’s blooming and breaking inside her.

But Lando feels it in the way she moves with him, and how her body opens like it was always meant to. That pushes him to thrust harder, feeling like the entire boat shakes at the force.

“Easy. You’re gonna break the bed,” she says against his jaw, her voice a breathy laugh.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing I’ve broken over you,” he mutters back, but there’s no malice in his tone, except a dangerous affection that’s always lived under his skin when it came to her.

It makes her curious to know what he means, but just as she’s about to ask, Lando finds that angle where their bodies align like puzzle pieces that should’ve never fit but somehow do. He rocks into her so sweetly, and that’s enough to silence her. The answer is in the way her breath stutters. The way her fingers grip his arms. The way her body pulls him in and clenches around his length like it’s never known anything else.

“Shit. Again, please,” Lando breathes wetly against her skin. “Do that again,” he repeats, already buried to the hilt, grinding against that perfect spot inside her, that once he found it, it’s impossible to stop. “Mhm. Let me make it right.”

“You said you can’t,” she challanges him, barely able to speak. “So stop taking your sweet time, Norris,” she pants, breathless but defiant, smirking even as her thighs tremble around his hips.

Lando lifts his head, curls damp against his forehead, eyes dark with a sudden annoyance. “Yeah? That’s how he’s had you all this time? Quick, in and out, job done?”

Her smirk drops into a scoff, her hands pressing against his chest like she might shove him off. But she arches into him instead, loving the way her back rubs against the mattress with each push.

“If anything, he had the balls to be honest with me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he thrusts deeper, making her gasp mid-retort. “Stop defending him, will ya?”

The sheets are already half off the bed, twisted and forgotten, heat pulsing like a heartbeat between them. Lando starts moving inside her with a relentless rhythm, as if trying to erase anyone who came before him with every shove. But she won’t give him the silence he craves.

Not anymore.

Her head tilts back, sweat glistening at her collarbone, but her eyes are sharp, ready to catch his reaction. “No wonder you drive like that. Always trying to prove you’re better than the last guy, aren’t you?”

His hips slam forward, hard enough to make her gasp again, fingers bruising against her waist. “That’s rich coming from the girl who settled for someone who didn’t even know how to fuck her, let alone treat her right.”

She bites her lip, not in surrender but to hide the moan that slips out anyway. Her nails dig into his back, dragging down like a punishment until he grunts. “You’re such a coward,” she snaps. “At least he didn’t treat every conversation like a race he had to win.”

All of a sudden, Lando slows his movements, grinding deep, making her eyes roll before he fucks back into her harder than before. Only to make a point. Only to see all the places he takes her to.

“‘Cause he had the habit of abandoning before it even started, isn’t it? How many times did you have to fake it?”

Her eyes snap to his, speechless, but Lando doesn’t blink. He grins at her, knowing he is waiting for an answer he’ll never get.

She kisses him then, hard and angry, pouring all the emotions she never thought Lando, of all people, would ever awaken in her. Then she pushes him, her legs squeezing around his waist, her action emphasizing the duality of the thoughts going through her mind.

“Just so we’re clear. You’re not the first to try and fuck me into forgetting,” she finally replies.

At that, Lando stops for a breath, not from exhaustion but from the way her words claw straight through his big ego. He slams into her again, smiling at her, hand catching her thigh to spread her wider. “But I’m the one who’s going to succeed.”

She’s so close, he can feel it in the way her body aches to keep his cock inside and how her insults start to blend with moans. What amazes him, though, is the strength she has to continue their little argument, as if they’re not in the middle of something else right now.

“Never thought you could be such an asshole, it’s unbelievable.”

Lando doesn’t even blink when he speaks again, “He made you cry on New Year’s,” he growls, voice sharp, like a blade slipping between her ribs. “And I’m the asshole?”

Before she can throw a retort back, he tilts his hips, changing the angle, and drives into her so sudden that it knocks the breath from her lungs. Her back arches, while her hips are lifting to meet every punishing thrust.

“Lando,” she moans his name, arms winding around his shoulders like she’s holding on for dear life.

She can feel him in places she didn’t even know could feel. He’s fucking her with such intensity it turns into a blur of slick skin and strangled whimpers, the bed creaking beneath them.

The banter dies somewhere along the way, and all that’s left behind is the heat, the pounding rhythm, the kind of pleasure that makes thoughts disappear and stars dance behind their eyes. Her brows are scrunched, eyes glazed, and she realizes she’s about to scream. Actually scream.

Luckily, Lando places a hand over her mouth just in time, muffling the broken sounds pouring out of her throat. It takes her by surprise, realizing how well he knows all her signals without ever telling him. But it’s easy for him. Especially when he sees the way her body’s trembling under his weight, and the way her eyes plead and challenge all at once.

He nods, hips pistoning into her, watching her come apart beneath him, a quiet, shaking mess.

“Yeah,” he grunts as quiet as possible through gritted teeth, “That’s it. Just me now.”

The words hang in the sweat-soaked air as she comes around his length, clenching so tight it nearly takes him with her. Lando doesn’t stop moving. Instead, he talks her through it, his voice breathless against her ear.

“That’s my girl, let it all out. So fucking perfect.”

Her nails sink further into his back, riding the aftershocks with his cock still buried deep, stretching her in all the ways she was craving. It brings him right on the edge, and with a frustrated cry, Lando pulls out, the head of his cock flushed and swollen as it rests hot and heavy against her thigh. He lets himself go at the sight, thick ropes spilling messily onto her skin. Sticky. Warm. Heavenly.

“Lan,” she breathes, half a protest, half a moan, reaching up to drag him back on top of her.

Lando can’t resist the pull. Not when her touch unravels him with every glide of her fingers over his skin. He used to dream of it, but the reality is always better. He kisses her again, softer this time, letting the moment stretch before his hand finds the curve of her breast, fingers teasing with just enough pressure to make her arch against him. Patiently, his thumb sweeps over her nipple, circling, pressing, feeling it harden under his touch.

It makes her whimper, her hands fisting in his hair. Lando’s lips find the column of her throat then, biting gently just beneath her jaw. Her sounds light him up like the fireworks they didn’t witness that night. He trails his kisses down to her collarbone, one palm flattening over her stomach before traveling back up.

Somehow, the chaos has slowed, but the heat is still there.

Their bodies are tangled in ways that no one could tell where she starts and where he ends, the mess between them so satisfying. When their eyes meet again, he sees her flushed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on her brow, and her chest heaving. Her eyes are so vulnerable as she looks back at him — her Lando, stripped down and completely wrecked.

And without a single word, he slides back in.

No sharp words, no angry breathing. Just the sound of their pants, the wet glide of his cock moving inside her, the weight of emotion that neither of them dares to name. Every thrust is unhurried this time around, his sweaty forehead resting against hers, like he’s trying to memorize the feel of her walls fluttering around him, the way her thighs lock around his waist with each roll of his hips.

It’s not just sex anymore. Is so much more than that, something that will linger for a quite some time after they part tonight. And they both know it.

When the pressure builds again, it’s different. There’s less fire. More ache. She blinks up at him, and her lips tremble. Tears pool at the corners of her eyes, not from physical pain, but from the overwhelming closeness of it all.

Lando sees it, and kisses them away.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

And when he comes again, it’s with a quiet groan right against her lips, buried deep as her body pulls him in, taking every drop of his pleasure and keeping him as if he belongs to her from now on. All of it. All of him.

The silence that surrounds them afterwards feels too full. She lets him stay there, wrapped around her, her fingers idly tracing his back. But her gaze is distant, fixed on the ceiling, already somewhere else.

For now, at least, they can coexist in the same world, breathing each other in until the reality will catch them from behind.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow morning.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[jungwnies]

blueprints | lando norris

୨ৎ : featuring : lando norris x architect!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : being the architect behind the vision of your future home with lando, the process is filled with chaotic debates, quiet love, and a surprisingly emotional struggle over how to fit nearly a decade’s worth of racing memories. it’s not just a house; it’s their forever.

୨ৎ : genre : fluff / domestic romance ୨ৎ : word count : 894

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was such a lovely request, love architects and everything domestic

the blueprint was supposed to be simple. at least, that's what you told yourself when you first opened your sketchbook and started drafting the layout of your and lando's dream home. clean lines, open concept, lots of natural light. nothing too complicated.

until your very passionate, very attached-to-his-legacy boyfriend leaned over your shoulder and said—

"where’s the trophy room?"

you blinked. “the what?”

“the room,” he said, like it was obvious. “for all my trophies. and helmets. and my suit from silverstone. and—oh! the first wheel i ever used in karting. it still has bite marks from when i used to get mad.”

you turned around, pencil still poised above the floor plan. “you want a whole room?”

“well,” he grinned, leaning in, “you said this was our dream house. and in my dreams, there’s a shelf that lights up for each p1 trophy.”

“lando—”

“and maybe a little podium area with led lighting.”

you stared at him.

he kissed your cheek.

you sighed.

it was day two of planning, and already the project had morphed from a minimal modern build to what was starting to resemble a motorsport museum.

despite that, you couldn’t help but smile as you adjusted your sketches to fit in what you labeled, in tiny handwriting, lando’s legacy shrine. he peeked over your shoulder again, proudly pointing to it.

“see? we make such a good team.”

you rolled your eyes. “you just like bossing me around.”

“i like watching you pretend i’m not charming,” he said, nudging your leg with his knee.

the days passed like that—debating window placements, arguing over whether the kitchen island needed to be ‘chef’s kitchen’ big (he insisted, even though he could barely boil pasta), and haggling over the practicality of an indoor karting simulator room.

one afternoon, as sunlight spilled across the dining table-turned-sketching-station, you were fine-tuning a cross-section when you noticed lando unusually quiet. he was perched across from you, scrolling through photos on his phone.

“whatcha looking at?” you asked, not looking up.

he tilted the screen to show a blurry shot of the two of you at the austrian grand prix—his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders, your face tucked into his chest, grinning like a fool.

“i want this on the wall,” he said softly. “somewhere near the front door.”

you finally glanced up. “why?”

“so i remember why i’m coming home.”

your chest tightened. “that’s really corny.”

he shrugged. “you dated me anyway.”

the blueprint slowly became more than just lines and labels. it was stories. a skylight above your reading nook because he said you looked peaceful in natural light. a bathroom mirror perfectly positioned so you could do your skincare while he stood behind you brushing his teeth. a patio with a grill and enough space for summer parties, because “we’re gonna be the fun couple, right?”

it was all soft compromises and quiet affection—until the great helmet wall debate.

you were seated on the floor, surrounded by floor plan drafts and elevation sketches, when lando dropped onto the couch behind you.

“so…” he began casually, “do you think the helmet wall could be bigger?”

you turned slowly. “bigger than an entire feature wall?”

“well, yeah, because i thought about it and i want to include the karting ones too. and maybe my racing gloves. maybe hang them on hooks, all organized by year.”

you stared at him. “do you hear yourself?”

he grinned. “yes. i sound passionate.”

you threw a pillow at him.

“oi! violence against the visionary.”

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, grabbing another piece of paper. “fine. you get the helmet wall.”

“and the podium?”

“lando.”

“okay, okay,” he laughed, hands raised. “half-podium. just a little platform. for the vibes.”

you paused. then scribbled down the dimensions.

he crawled over to sit beside you, watching as you drew in the extra square footage.

“you know,” he murmured, nudging your shoulder, “i don’t actually care if we make it perfect.”

you looked up. “what do you mean?”

“i mean… it doesn’t matter how many rooms we fit or how big the kitchen is or if there’s a race sim. what matters is that it’s ours.”

your pencil froze mid-line.

“i just want to wake up next to you in it,” he added, softer now. “that’s the dream part for me.”

you stared at him for a long second. he wasn’t smiling this time, no teasing in his eyes. just something sincere. something a little shy.

“you’re gonna make me cry,” you said.

“i’m trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

you leaned in and kissed him.

later that night, you sat together in front of the fireplace you’d designed on a whim, tangled up on the rug with the plans spread out in front of you. lando reached for your sketchbook and added a new label in sloppy handwriting near the kitchen.

“what’s that?” you asked.

“our corner.”

“our… what?”

he grinned. “that’s where we’ll dance when we’re too lazy to go out. or argue about who left the fridge open. or just exist.”

you looked at the little corner he'd circled, and somehow, it felt more permanent than the blueprint itself.

he pulled you into his lap. “can’t wait to build it with you.”

“build what?”

he looked around the room. at the scattered pencils. at your rolled-up plans. then back at you.

“a life.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[piastriprincess]

was your soul rediscovered (was your heart rearranged?) ⸻ lando norris x reader .

featuring  lando  norris ,  soulmate  au ,  friends  to  lovers word  count 2.6k author’s  note  thank  you  thank  you  THANK  YOU  for  all  the  love  on  my  oscar  fic ,  this  is  another  one  i’ve  been  workshopping  for  a  bit - lowkey inspired by @binisainz , i love the way she writes lando sm  .  i  promise  yall i  don’t  only  write  friends  to  lovers  !!  anyway  hope  you  all  like  it ,  inbox  is  open  for  requests  or  if  you  wanna  talk  to  me  !!  title  from  maine  by  noah  kahan  .

“Mate, what are you watching?” your best friend says as he steps out of his room. 

You were sprawled on his expensive couch, but you practically bolt up when you hear his voice. “Nothing,” you respond, voice shaky and high-pitched as you try to pause the video, but you’re no match for Lando’s reflexes, honed over years of pushing his body to the limit. He snatches the phone out of your hand — the little gremlin — and starts giggling almost immediately. “Soulmate Theory: Understanding the Red String of Fate?”

“Shut up,” you hiss, cheeks burning as you try to grab your phone from him. Lando’s anticipating that move, though, and he steps just out of your reach, grinning at you with that annoying smile he’s perfected over your years-long friendship. “Lan, give it back.”

You can hear the narrator’s voice, tinny through your phone speakers as the video keeps playing: “The two souls connected by the red thread are destined to be lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstance. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.” You can’t stand the stupid smile on Lando’s face for a second longer, so you jump on Lando’s back. His giggle drowns out the rest of the narration as you finally manage to wrestle the phone out of his hands, stabbing the pause button like you have a personal vendetta against it. 

“Not another word about it,” you warn him, smoothing your dress. He actually manages to keep his mouth shut for about five minutes.

“I can’t believe you buy into that stuff,” Lando scoffs, rolling his shoulders in that cocky way of his as you both exit his apartment building. He pulls open the passenger door, and you slide into his car as he walks around to the driver’s side. “It’s such rubbish.”

You sigh. “I can’t believe you don’t. I mean, look at all the people who found their soulmates. Look at Oscar and Lily! How can you hear all those stories and still believe there’s no such thing?”

“We can’t see it,” Lando shrugs as he hands you the aux cord without even looking. “The red string is supposed to show up if we fall in love with our soulmates, but who could prove it? I could say Tate McRae was my soulmate and no one would be able to tell I was wrong, even her. Unless she fell in love with me and didn’t see it.”

“Please,” you respond tartly, pausing before the punchline. “As if you could ever pull Tate McRae.” You know he’s about to respond, a sassy retort or a punch to the shoulder brewing in his mind, but before he can, you hit play on your ‘Make Lando Shut Up’ Spotify playlist. His eyes widen with delight as On the Floor by J.Lo starts to play, and before you know it you’re both singing along, the conversation effectively forgotten.

⸻

You’re sitting in a booth at Jimmyz, watching Charles Leclerc cross the dance floor with your chin propped in your hand. His tanned skin shines under the pulsing lights, those beautiful blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he speaks rapid-fire French to one of the other drivers. You’re not sure when you started noticing Charles the way you do now. Maybe it’s a stupid crush on one of Lando’s friends, a guy tangentially in your orbit who’s finally single. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s your —

“Just go talk to him, you muppet,” Lando says directly into your left ear, and you jump in surprise, whirling to face him. His hair is damp, a sheen of sweat on his muscular arms. 

“Jesus Christ, Lando. Stop sneaking up on me.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, eyes bright and teasing as he leans closer to you. “Eye sex tends to work better when the other person is looking back at you.”

“Charles will realize he wants my eye sex one of these days,” you counter, sitting back in the booth. “This is eye foreplay.”

Lando grins, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe you should get some eye experience, to know what you’re doing when the time comes. Wanna have a staring contest?”

You snort, bumping your shoulder against his. “Ew. Freak.” You don’t look back at Charles. He’s not looking at you, anyway. “Think those girls might have a problem with that,” you note, eyes flicking to the gaggle of bleach-blondes Lando left behind at the edge of the booth.

He rolls his eyes. “Please. You know you’re the only one who’s coming home with me.” You allow him a small smile at that, and he grabs your arm, pulling you out of the booth to dance. 

⸻

“Oh my god,” you moan, teeth sinking into the first bite. “I think this pizza is my soulmate.” You’re at a tiny ristorante in Monza, executing your oldest pre-race tradition of taking Lando to Saturday night dinner (he insists that if you pay, it’s all even, despite the fact that he pays for your flights and hotel room and gives you a paddock pass). 

Lando’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, not looking at you. “That’d be a real win for the universe, wouldn’t it?” he replies dryly. 

You give him a pass. He’s still waiting for his food, and he gets fussy when he’s hungry. “I’m serious,” you continue lightly, waving a slice in his general direction. “Try some.” He doesn’t look up. “I should invite Charles here. Maybe we’ll be poly soulmates with this margherita. Do you think if we both ate some at the same time, we’d be able to see the red string going down our throats?”

Lando giggles, finally putting his phone away, and you feel a little swell of happiness in your stomach. “Oh my god, shut up, you muppet.” He reaches for the pizza, about to take the slice from your hand when he goes pale, letting it slip through his fingers. It falls face-down on his plate, untouched. 

“What the hell, Lan?” you grin, but all of a sudden he looks like he’s on another planet, eyes wide and fixed on your face. “You okay?” you ask, concerned, and place your hand on his wrist. The skin burns beneath your fingers.

His eyes meet yours for another second, and then he shakes his head like he’s clearing cobwebs from his brain. “Totally. Just… zoned out for a second, I think,” he says softly.

“Okay,” you say, unconvinced and ready to press him on it, but then the waiter comes back to your table with his pizza, and that strange, charged moment passes.

⸻

You’re sprawled on Lando’s couch under a big blanket, a little wine-drunk as Notting Hill plays on the TV screen in front of you. You’ve seen it a hundred times, since Lando picks it practically every single movie night, but you can’t stop your eyes from getting a little misty when Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts look at each other in the crowded press room, the red string wrapping around the mic stands and chairs from one pinky to the other. 

“See?” Lando tosses a piece of popcorn into the air, catching it in his mouth. “Hugh Grant was like, totally in love with his wife. She finds her soulmate and leaves him. And the whole time, Julia Roberts was there. His real soulmate, out in the universe, and he marries someone else.”

“That doesn’t lessen the value of the love,” you shrug, throwing a handful from your bowl at his head. He yelps, pieces hitting him in the face. “It just means the person who was made for him was somebody else. You can still be happy with someone who isn’t your soulmate.”

“God. Love’s complicated enough without soulmates messing it up,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch. “I hate soulmates.”

“How do you hate something you don’t believe in?” you ask automatically, expecting his usual anti-soulmate rant. But it doesn’t come, and when you look over at him, he’s avoiding your eyes. 

“Oh my god,” you say, somewhat delightedly. “You do believe in them. You believe in soulmates.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles, suddenly very interested in his popcorn bowl.

“I thought you thought they were ‘rubbish,’” you mimic his words from weeks ago, not even bothering to hide your smile anymore. “What happened?”

“They still are rubbish,” he protests. “How terrible is it that we know someone out there is made for us, but we don’t know if we found that person until we’re already in love? Look at Hugh Grant and the ex-wife. They had to know they were dooming their soulmates if they stayed together.”

You frown. “It’s just a movie, Lan. An admittedly great movie, but a movie. Plus, they found the right person in the end.” You motion to the TV, where Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts sit in the park. 

He sits up, eyes flickering over your face restlessly. “What if they hadn’t? If you love somebody who isn’t your soulmate, would you leave them to wait for the real thing? Or would you stay with the person you love anyway?”

“Me?” you ask, and he nods, his fingertips drumming against the arm of the couch. “I dunno. Who knows if I’ll ever find my soulmate, you know? I want to believe I will, but it’s a big world. I guess I’d stay with the person I love.”

He slouches back on the couch as the credits roll. “Yeah. Love’s hard enough without soulmates.”

⸻

“You’ll never believe what just happened,” you laugh. “Are you sitting down?”

“Hold on,” Lando’s voice spills through your phone speakers. He’s in Woking for testing this week, so you’re all alone in Monaco, and you hate to admit that just hearing his voice is making you smile. “One second.” You hear him close a door behind him, then the soft oof of him flopping facedown onto the couch. “Alright. I’m sat. Lay it on me.”

“Okay. So. I was on one of those park benches by the beach reading, right? And all of a sudden this little dog runs up to me.” You pause for dramatic effect. “It’s Charles’s dog. And he comes running up after him, all cute and sweaty, and thanked me for catching Leo. And we got to talking, and he asked me if I wanted to grab dinner with him tonight.” You can hear the smile in your voice, sure he’s about to tease you endlessly for it.  “What?” Lando says, sharply, and you have to hold the phone away from your ear a little.

“Jesus, Lan. Volume.” You’re only teasing, but for a moment there’s nothing but silence on the other end of the phone. 

“Well… that’s cool,” he says flatly. You frown. You don’t know what reaction you were expecting, but it’s not this.  

“Are you serious?” you say, picking at your cuticle. “I thought you’d be happier for me. You’ve been telling me to talk to him for, like, ever. And this was a pretty cute first encounter. Straight out of a rom-com. Maybe I’ll see the red string tonight. Maybe he’s my —”

“Charles Leclerc is not your soulmate,” Lando scoffs dismissively. 

You roll your eyes before you realize he can’t see you. “How would you even know?”

A pause. Suddenly the amorphous space between you feels charged like a live wire. 

“He just isn’t. No way.” Lando says firmly, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“Whatever,” you say, but your enthusiasm is somewhat dimmed. “I guess we’ll see on the date. How’s testing going?”

He launches into some story about how Oscar accidentally nearly broke the rear wing by leaning too heavily on it, but you’re not listening, not really. His words, his certainty rubbed you the wrong way. How would Lando possibly know whether or not Charles was the right one for you?

He couldn’t, of course. No one could. You wish you could just ignore it, let it go, but Lando knows you better than almost anyone, and you trust him instinctually. 

Charles Leclerc is not your soulmate.

You hadn’t thought that he was, not seriously at least, but hearing Lando say it so straight-out made the butterflies in your stomach stop fluttering. An hour before you’re supposed to meet Charles at the restaurant, you text him to cancel. 

⸻

“I think it’s going to rain,” you muse, taking a sip of your iced coffee. You’d dragged Lando on an adventure to some cafe overlooking the ocean; your friend had told you it had a beautiful view and the best kouign amanns in the principality. She wasn’t wrong, and although the walk was longer than you’d expected, you’d been congratulating yourself on a Saturday well spent until the sky started growing darker. 

“It’s not going to rain,” Lando says from beside you, voice muffled as his mouth is half-full of one of the pastries. “It never rains in Monaco.”

It’s like the storm was waiting for dramatic effect; just then, the sky opens up, and before you know it the rain is soaking through your shirt.

“Shit,” you laugh, watching the shock evident on his face. “Never rains, huh?”

As you speak, there’s a crack of thunder behind you. You’re not a child, not scared of storms like you used to be, but Lando still grabs your hand as you take off running, searching for the nearest shelter from the driving rain. He pulls you down a side alley, your sneakers skidding on the wet stone as you stop beneath an awning. 

You lean against the wall, panting as you look up at him. His white tee is soaked through and his hair is plastered to his forehead, but he’s grinning at you, eyes bright, so breathtaking that you feel like the wind just got knocked out of your body. “Always an adventure,” he says cheerfully, and you realize he’s still holding your hand. You’re about to wriggle away, to wipe the water off your face, when something catches your eye. You look down at your hands and nearly stop breathing. There’s a glowing red thread, winding from your pinky to his. 

The red string of fate, you think to yourself. The two souls connected by the red thread are destined to be lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstance. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.

Oh. Oh, oh, oh. 

Lando was your soulmate. 

You were in love with your best friend.

“You okay?” Lando asks, and you realize you’ve been silent for far too long. You want to look at him, but you can’t seem to drag your eyes away from the thread. 

“Our hands look good together,” you say dreamily. You can’t keep the smile off your face. “I never realized until just now.”

“Yeah?” Lando says, his voice pitching up slightly. “What changed?”

You look up, finally, and meet his eyes, see the way his tongue darts out to lick the plush pink of his bottom lip. He’s nervous. Does he know? You’re not going to force it, if he doesn’t.

“A new accessory,” you say vaguely, shrugging your shoulders, but your cheeks are starting to hurt from beaming at him. 

“Red, by any chance?” he asks, and you know. 

“And joint custody,” you agree. 

His smile lights up his entire face. “Took you long enough.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” you smack his arm, hard, and he just shrugs. You’re understanding his change of heart on soulmates, now. He figured out that he had one. “When did you find out?”

“When you were shoveling that pizza, in Monza.”

You grin, eyes shining with tears. How could you not have guessed it? “Played it off well, there.”

“I’m super smooth,” he agrees, pulling you closer. Your hands land on his chest, like they’ve always been meant to be there. “I’m gonna kiss you now, yeah?” he murmurs, tilting your chin up with one finger.

You’re already leaning in, and when your lips brush against each other for the first time it feels like coming home. “Took you long enough.”

[theonlyonesora]

My Eyes on You

Synopsis. What happens when someone has their eye on your man?

Pairings. (SEPARATE) Oscar Piastri x Reader, Lewis Hamilton x Reader, Lando Norris x Reader, Charles Leclerc x Reader

Oscar Piastri

During a McLaren gala event, all in black and orange, in a fancy ballroom in Monaco.

You looked gorgeous in that tight black dress, with a dark lipstick that Oscar had said “could cause accidents.”

Everything was going well until an influencer—the one who smiles too much and wears dresses with low backs—approaches him. She touches his arm. Oh, his arm.

“You’re even more beautiful in person,” she says, her eyes hungry.

Oscar smiles politely, and you down the champagne in one gulp.

He immediately notices your expression. He walks over to you, leans in, and whispers, “I like it when you get jealous… but you don’t have to, love.”

And when he puts his arm around your waist, pulls you close, and kisses your temple right there, in front of the influencer, you smile. Maybe a little too victoriously.

Lewis Hamilton

A relaxed afternoon in the paddock, you were sitting next to Lewis, listening to him tell a hilarious story about a dog that invaded the pit lane years ago.

And then she laughs. That new journalist. Beautiful, confident, and sitting a little too close.

“You’re so funny, Lewis,” she says, touching his shoulder.

You slowly cross your legs and look at Lewis. He, of course, notices.

Without hesitation, he intertwines his fingers in your silence and, in the middle of a conversation with a reporter, says: “She always laughs at my jokes — even the bad ones.”

You smiled, satisfied, knowing that even if the whole world smiled at him… it was you he always came back to.

Lando Norris

It’s a sunny day at the Silverstone circuit, surrounded by fans and the smell of gasoline in the air.

You’re wearing one of Lando’s caps—the white one with blue details that he never lends out.

And then a fan approaches with a sweet smile. She asks for a picture, and he, of course, is kind. Very kind. Too much so.

“Can you put your arm around her?” the photographer asks.

Lando hesitates. He looks at you. You have one eyebrow.

He smiles, takes the cap off your head and puts it on his. “I’d rather she knows I’m taken,” he says, looking at a fan with a kind smile.

Later, he returns the cap, kisses your cheek and says, “You look beautiful when you’re jealous, you know that?”

Charles Leclerc

An elegant after-party in Milan following a fashion show.

Charles is stunning. His tie askew, his hair blown out by the wind, and that Monegasque charm that leaves you breathless.

And he does, because a model approaches, introduces himself… and completely ignores your existence.

"You're Charles, right? I can't believe I'm meeting you!"

You clear your throat. Nothing.

Charles blinks slowly, then smiles. "Oui. And this is my girlfriend," he says, placing his hand firmly on your waist.

A model who forces a smile. You smile back — a little sweetly, a little victoriously.

"You don't know me, but I know him very well," you say, before walking out with him by the hand.

He pulls you into a quiet kiss in the middle of the street, his low laugh vibrating in his chest. "You're fire."

"And you're mine. Only mine."

[livwritessometimes]

Please Please Please

: Lando Norris x Reader

: Y/n really hopes this relationship works out…after all no one likes being embarrassed by a boy

: Series Masterlist

: Main Masterlist

…

2022 (october)

liked by User32 and 62,718 others

👤: Yourname, jacobelordi

CelebGossip: SPOTTED: Y/n L/n and Jacob Elordi, in what seems to be a cozy getaway in Miami! Could this be the start of a new relationship? We’ll find out soon enough!

view all 48,932 comments

User32: SHUT UP!!!!! Y/N and JACOB

User09: OMGGGG I LOVE THEM ALREADY

User66: this is a total invasion of privacy!

liked by jacobelordi and 98,619 others

👤: jacobelordi

Yourname: Cats out of the bag ig 🤭

view all 72,780 comments

jacobelordi: 💙💙

*liked by Yourname*

Yourname: Can you tell blue is our color?? 🙈

*liked by jacobelordi*

lilyzneimer: Cutiessss 😍😍

*liked by Yourname*

-> User52: WAITTT WHY IS LILY HERE????

-> User21: Lily and Y/n are childhood friends

User33: GOALS!!! 🔥

User09: PLEASE DON’T BREAK UP 🙏🏻

liked by Yourname and 102,729 others

👤: Yourname

jacobelordi: Summer of 22’ 🐞

view all 87,627 comments

Yourname: To many more 🥂

*liked by jacobelordi*

-> jacobelordi: 🥂

User51: THEY’VE BEEN TOGETHER SINCE SUMMER??????

-> User07: ILRRRRRR

-> User66: This explains why Y/n was always blushing whenever she was asked dating questions in interviews!

2023 (march)

liked by User32 and 72,718 others

👤: kaiagerber, jacobelordi, Yourname

CelebGossip: HE DID WHAT? Looks like flowers aren’t the only thing set to blossom this season. Jacob Elordi and Kaia Gerber were CAUGHT making out in public. This comes as a shock to many, as Elordi is still believed to be in a relationship with singer Y/n L/n. Have the couple already broken up in secret, or did Jacob just air his dirty laundry out in public? Stay tuned to find out!

view all 62,839 comments

User32: WTFFFF

User59: HE CHEATED?????

User88: Ohhhh poor Y/n 💔💔💔

User01: Ik he cheated and all but why are they both kinda giving 💅🏻

-> User54: Ya giving home wrecker if that’s what you mean!

2023 (august)

liked by User72 and 129,628 others

👤: Yourname, shawnmendes

CelebGossip: Y/n L/n, back in the game? After being publicly cheated on by ex boyfriend, Jacob Elordi, L/n seems to have found herself a new beau! Revenge rebound or true love? Either way we’re here to see how it plays!!

view all 97,628 comments

User88: Ok it’s clear Y/n’s type is tall boys!!! GIRL THE WAY THAT I RELATE 🤭🤭🤭

User02: wow! I did not think Shawn had it in him to move on from hailey

-> User63: IKRRR!!! Like he was devastated after their break up 💔💔

User44: This confirms NOTHING!! This can just be a friendly conversation for all we know 🤷🏻‍♀️

-> User58: With the way he’s looking at her 🤨 ya right, friendly my ass

2023 (december)

liked by Yourname and 282,529 others

👤: Yourname

shawnmendes: Guess this makes it official or something doesn’t it @/Yourname??

view all 162,729 comments

Yourname: hmm 🤔 I guess it does @/shawnmendes!

User21: OH FUCK! I THINK IM GONNA FAINT 😵

User01: THIS PERFORMANCE>>>>>>>>

User08: “Cause friends don’t know the way you taste” AHHHHHHHH

User66: I KNEW THEY WERE LYING WHEN THEY SAID THEY’RE “JUST FRIENDS”

User50: I know they just announced their relationship but can we just talk about how GOOD Señorita is!!!!!!

*liked by shawnmendes*

liked by shawnmendes and 216,828 others

👤: shawnmendes

Yourname: I never thought our friendship could turn into something so beautiful 🤍

view all 113,728 comments

User44: this girl is in LOVE!!!!!

User20: I always knew they’d date! I JUST KNEW IT 🥰🥰🥰🥰

shawnmendes: 🤍🤍

*liked by Yourname*

2024 (february)

liked by haileybaldwin and 197,211 others

👤: Yourname, shawnmendes

CelebGossip: 2 heartbreaks in less than a year?? Y/n L/n might just be setting records, for all the wrong reasons. L/n was recently spotted with friend-turned-beau Shawn Mendes for what seemed to be a lovely lunch but ended up leaving the restaurant in tears. Looks like another heartache is in the books for L/n. Could it be bad luck, bad timing, or simply bad choices? Stay tuned to find out.

view all 97,828 comments

User11: WTFFFFF WHAT HAPPENED????

User43: This is why you should never mix friendship with love!!!!

User06: No but like Hailey liking this is just WILD!!!!

-> User71: Wait whattttt!!! I completely missed that!!

2024 (march)

liked by haileymendes and 210,732 others

👤: haileybaldwin, shawnmendes

CelebGossip: Dearest gentle reader, it seems history has a way of repeating itself. Shawn Mendes and Hailey Baldwin, spotted together once again. Could this reignite the spark they once lost? With Mendes’ recent breakup, one can’t help but wonder?

view all 157,621 comments

User02: SHUT UPPPP!!! I KNEW THERE WAS NO WAY SHAWN WAS OVER HAILEY

User23: oh nooo! How could he do this to y/n 💔

User10: they’re not gonna last 👎🏻

liked by shawnmendes and 99,718 others

👤: shawnmendes

haileybaldwin: Funny how things have a way of falling back into place ❤️

view all 81,728 comments

shawnmendes: Better than ever ❤️

*liked by haileybaldwin*

User06: I still can’t believe how cruel people can be! Y/n deserves better 🤍

User88: They’re so in love 😍

*liked by haileybaldwin*

2024 (may)

liked by oscarpiastri and 134,278 others

👤: lilyzneimer

Yourname: I’m gonna marry her someday 💍

view all 97,628 comments

lilyzneimer: It’s a love story, baby I’ll say yes 💒

*liked by Yourname*

-> Yourname: 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

User18: Poor Oscar 😭😭😭😭

-> Yourname: umm who tf is that????

-> oscarpiastri: Wow Y/n Wow 🙂

-> Yourname: 🤨🤨

User81: PETITION TO BRING Y/N TO A GRAND PRIX

-> lilyzneimer: 🤔

-> oscarpiastri: Lily No 🙅🏻

-> mclaren: Lily Yes 🙌🏻

liked by oscarpiastri and 168,829 others

👤: mclaren, oscarpiastri

Yourname: Blessing McLaren with my presence 😌

view all 104,753 comments

mclaren: Feeling very blessed 🛐🛐

*liked by Yourname*

-> Yourname: 🤭🤭

oscarpiastri: Did you really have to use that picture??

-> Yourname: I think the word you’re looking for is ‘Thank You’ for not using the other picture 🤨

-> landonorris: @/mclaren MOM! They’re fighting again!!!!

-> Yourname: tattletale 😒👎🏻

-> landonorris: 😇😇

User40: I pity Lily 😞

*liked by lilyzneimer*

User55: Okay so are we all just gonna ignore that interaction???

2024 (july)

liked by Yourname and 219,628 others

👤: Yourname, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer

landonorris: Date night with Oscar, when two random girls crashed it. Weird!

view all 154,872 comments

Yourname: Wow! If I remember correctly you’re the one who called us and said “please join us!!! We miss you!!! Please guys, Please!!!”

-> landonorris: I remember no such thing 🙂‍↔️

-> User12: Yk it’s bad when you gotta use please 3 times!! 😭😭

lilyzneimer: umm that’s literally my boyfriend 😃

-> landonorris: I think you mean our* boyfriend!! 😌

-> lilyzneimer: No I absolutely did not mean that???

-> oscarpiastri: I don’t know if I should feel happy or worried about you two 🫤

User58: IS THAT LANDO AND Y/N IN THE THIRD PICTURE???????

-> User04: IT ISSS OMGGG

-> User03: Damn Y/n’s gonna get her heart broken all over again

LN4Hater: @/Yourname he’s just gonna use and dump you! Girl have some self respect! You’ve literally been through 2 heartbreaks already!

User57: Honestly I just don’t get it! Like Y/n why is your taste so bad?? Just why??????

-> User77: I just wonder how she isn’t tired of being embarrassed?? Like, I personally could never handle that level of public humiliation 🫣🫣🫣

liked by User11 and 102,881 others

👤: landonorris, Yourname

CelebGossip: The rumour mill is spinning, and your favourite pop princess is at the centre of it again! Word on the street is that Lando Norris and Y/n L/n are getting close, and fans aren’t exactly thrilled. Especially after learning out about Norris’ colourful dating history.

We’ve done all the hard work for you and compiled a list of every single person Norris has been linked to in the past year. Click the link in bio to get a full scoop on his playboy past.

Will this mark the end of his streak or will L/n just be another name added to the list.

view all 96,738 comments

User39: Wow! That list looks like a class roll call, DAMN!!

User09: @/Yourname please please please get a hold of yourself! THIS MAN HAS BEEN AROUND 🙏🏻🙏🏻

User04: Guys this is bullshit! This whole list is ridiculous and CelebGossip posting it is even worse!

2024 (september)

liked by User04 and 168,813 others

👤: Yourname, landonorris

CelebGossip: Looks like things are still going strong between Y/n L/n and Lando Norris. The duo was first spotted together back in May and against all odds (and exes), they’re still going steady. Are they in it for the long run, or is our heartbreak queen about to score a hat-trick?

view all 110,727 comments

User52: Sorry girly but that looks like love to me!!!

Nowinsnorris: There is no way that man has changed! Y/n run away as fast as you can

-> User04: Oh please! Just shut up 🙄

User65: I mean at least she’s happy! That’s all that matters ig!

liked by Yourname and 275,718 others

landonorris: Couldn’t have asked for a better end to the weekend! Thank you so much, Singapore 🇸🇬🫶🏻

view all 201,782 comments

oscarpiastri: Congrats Mate 🥂

-> landonorris: you too Osc 🙌🏻

mclaren: LETS GOOO 🔥🔥

Yourname: Good race!

-> landonorris: just good? 😏

-> Yourname: hmm 🤔 could have been better ig 🤷🏻‍♀️

*liked by mclaren*

-> User44: Not mclaren liking the comment 😭😭😭

User77: The effect Y/n has on Lando needs to be studied, cause tell me why the man who usually spends all his podium celebrations in clubs is now having DINNER AT HOME with his girlfriend??????

-> User09: It’s true what they say, sometimes, all it takes is the right person to make you change

liked by landonorris and 169,627 others

Yourname: lovin’ my life 🫶🏻

view all 102,882 comments

landonorris: ohh any particular reason why? 🤔

-> Yourname: Yes actually! Been spending a lot of time with the loml @/lilyzneimer

-> lilyzneimer: love you too 😘

-> landonorris: OMGGG first Oscar and now this!!! Lily just say you hate me already

-> lilyzneimer: I would, but then McLaren would make me sit with you for a PR meeting, and I am not ready for that kind of suffering 😩

-> mclaren: It’s true, we will!

2024 (november)

liked by landonorris and 165,728 others

👤: landonorris

Yourname: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OUT NOW!!! Enjoy 💋

view all 112,838 comments

User32: OMFGGGGGG IS THAT LANDO IN THE MV??????

landonorris: I see you’ve been to jail 👀

-> Yourname: what can I say I’m a dangerous girl 😌🔪

lilyzneimer: SO GOOD!!! Been streaming this ALL DAY LONG!!!

*liked by Yourname*

-> oscarpiastri: It’s true, she has been! Anyways, great song Y/n/n!!!!

*liked by Yourname*

User55: I never knew I needed to see Lando in handcuffs before this!! THANK YOU Y/N 🛐🛐🛐

User87: please please please don’t ever break up!!

*liked by landonorris*

liked by Yourname and 279,637 others

👤: Yourname

landonorris: Been in handcuffs a lot lately 😈

view all 172,728 comments

Yourname: From the looks of it, you seem to like it

-> landonorris: And what if I say I do 👀

-> mclaren: Y/N PLEASE DON’T ANSWER TO THIS 🙏🏻

-> Yourname: Oops 🤭🤭

oscarpiastri: This caption is very concerning

-> landonorris: 😙✌🏻

User58: YOU NEED HOLY WATER 💦

*liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, lilyzneimer*

2025 (january)

liked by landonorris and 239,627 others

👤: landonorris

Yourname: To everyone who said he wouldn’t win this season and we wouldn’t last…how’s that working out for you? 😌

view all 147,627 comments

User32: AHHHHH THE CAPTION

landonorris: Winning on and off track I’d say 🥂

-> Yourname: hmm and what did you win off track? 🤔

-> landonorris: your heart ofc 😏

-> oscarpiastri: please stop! Some conversations aren’t meant for social media 🙏🏻

mclaren: On a regular day, this caption would’ve led to a PR meeting, but we’ll let it slide, only because you’re our fav 🧡

-> mclaren: Also because we’ve exhausted all our ppts over lando 🫢

*liked by Yourname*

-> landonorris: 🥲🥲🥲

…

Tags: @sheblogs | @wobblymug | @evasmlp | @ln8118 | @urfavsgf | @tvdtw4ever | @linnygirl09 | @dejavuontrack | @stylesmoonlight12 | @ellelabelle | @piastri-fvx | @vannylen2144

[5sospenguinqueen]

TTDLAGG | Liam Lawson x Reader

Summary: Red Bull PR love how cute your booktok aesthetic is. Fans love the stark contrast to the content of those books. And Liam, well he benefits from it all. 

Warnings: heavily suggestive content, swearing, booktok, fluff, onyx storm SPOILERS! 

Requested: yes by anon But I realise I went completely off the topic of the ask so I’m very sorry. I hope you still enjoy

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

liamlawson30 just posted

liked by maxfewtrell, isackhadjar and others 

liamlawson30 take her on holiday and the only thing in her suitcase was books

30,010 comments 

readingwithyn how do you manage to take the prettiest photos of me

→ liamlawson30 because you are the prettiest 

→ user1 get you a man who is as down bad for you as liam lawson is for yn

use2 liam lawson is f1’s #1 wag 

lilymhe okay but she is the prettiest f1 driver there ever was

→ alex_albon excuse me?

→ jensonbutton excuse me?

→ readingwithyn my wife 💍 but i could never compete with kimi raikonnen 

→ liamlawson30 excuse me?

kevinmagnussen i’d rather her hands be on the book than you, kiwi 

→ readingwithyn will you pack it in with the big brother act, already? it’s been 3 years

→ kevinmagnussen no. and he should count himself lucky that i’m not on track next year 

→ liamlawson30 🫣😧

mercedesamgf1 feeling your pain, all she does during meetings is read on her phone.

→ mercedesamgf1 she thinks we can’t see her but we can 

→ readingwithyn why are you shit talking me on main?

→ readingwithyn do you not know that i am going through a very emotional time right now? i just finished my book and have to decide what to read next 

→ mercedesamgf we know. it’s all you talked about last week  

readingwithyn just posted

liked by jackdoohan, lojorup and others

readingwithyn many of you told me i should start this series next and i’m a sucker for dragons so here goes 

12,925 comments

user3 i love how she has a work insta and a reading insta and this is the only one she ever actually uses 

→ user4 it’s the fact that she likes her own book posts with her f1 account

→ user5 wait, she runs an f1 fan account as well?

→ user6 oh god, we’ve got another one about to learn the yn magnussen lore  

jackdoohan what chapter are you on? ‘cause we need to debrief but i don’t want to risk spoiling anything. and you haven’t updated your goodreads 

→ readingwithyn i’m on page 552 

→ jackdoohan in which case, prepare for a voice note

→ user7 i love that jack is part of her f1 book club

→ lilymhe @/jackdoohan put it in the gc please 

→ visacashapprb how do we join? 

→ mercedesamgf1 you don’t. we already have to fight for her attention and we’re literally the colours of violet’s hair. we don’t need more competition 

user8 okay but girly you are in for a ride

→ user9 she handles cars at 200mph, I’m sure she’s got this

→ user10 this is a different kind of ride

→ user11 in more ways than one 🍆

liamlawson30 i haven’t seen those dragons since your goblet of fire obsession 

→ readingwithyn i may have to rename them now 

→ kevinmagnussen don’t you dare give kevin jr some silly fantasy name 

→ readingwithyn kevin jr was renamed to kevin sucks a while ago…

→ kevinmagnussen @/liamlawson30 i know this is your fault 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

readingwithyn added to their story

kevinmagnussen replied i had to google this myself and i’m actually disgusted with you  → what the hell are you reading  → why are you exposing me to this → readingwithyn i told you to stop following me ages ago  → kevinmagnussen i miss when you were little and thought boys would give you cooties

liamlawson30 replied is this another thing you’re going to need me to test with you?

jackdoohan replied couldn't wrap my head around it either so i had to go to the ladies on tik tok. very educational  → i'll send you the link

lilymhe replied i tried to convince alex to do it with me (fully clothed) for anatomical purposes but he just looked at me in disgust → readingwithyn brb. gonna ask liam for help with something  lilymhe reacted with 🔥

liamlawson30 added to their story

kevinmagnussen replied i had to google this and now i’m disgusted with you → why are you exposing me to this → why are you also partaking in this behaviour  → oh y’all nasty. watch your back, lawson, because i know what kind of sicko you are now 

visacashapprb replied the ladies on twitter told us the door lean is very well appreciated btw. just in case you need to make up for clipping her car earlier 

lilymhe replied the door lean will get her to instantly forgive you. trust me.  → liamlawson30 you sound like you speak from experience → lilymhe alex giggled more than i did, and it still worked 

yn_amg replied stop trying to make me forgive you  → liamlawson30 i must be in trouble if you’re replying with your business account  → yn_amg i’ve been liking all the comments about how evil you are for crashing into me → liamlawson30 cheers, babe → yn_amg if you stop sulking, I’ll show you how good i am at the acronym  → liamlawson30 i am speed! 

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liamlawson30 just posted

liked by yn_amg, visacashapprb and others 

liamlawson30 you must allow me to tell you how ardently i love and admire you 

33,201 comments

readingwithyn i already said yes but quoting mr darcy for me? locked in for life 

→ liamlawson30 i thought the ring already meant that 

→ readingwithyn i’m trying to say that i love you, ya goof 

user1 okay but this is the cutest proposal he could have possibly chosen for her 

→ user2 the fact that he tagged her book insta and not her professional one shows he truly knows her

→ user3 and she loves him enough to like this with her work account as well

hulkhulkenberg is kevin freaking out?

→ kevinmagnussen feel like doing your haasband a favour?

→ hulkhulkenberg say no more. i can feel the spirit of kevin magnussen flowing through me 

→ liamlawson30 i asked for your support and you said yes! 

user4 the fact that she’s known more for her love of books than being a racing driver 

lilymhe maid of honour goes to me obviously. no one else is worthy to carry the bouquet made out of book papers

→ jackdoohan check yourself, queen. i will fight you for it 

georgerussell63 now it’s time to figure out if she’ll talk more about books or a wedding 

→ mercedesamgf1 books

→ visacashapprb books

→ liamlawson30 books 

→ readingwithyn or how to incorporate books into a wedding

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all i can do is apologise for what you just read

this just made me realise that i miss kevin (and that i really need to get into a smut mood so i can write part 3 for him)

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury  @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @piastri-fvx

[checkeredflagggs]

Credit Cards

Pairing: max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

summary: max needs Ollie and Kimi out of his house — so he gives them his credit cards and a vague list

a/n: another fun one to write 😂 also I laughed so hard at this picture of him…

a/n2: ok so this was kinda requested? Imma be honest — I veered wildly of course from the actual request but I hope you like it anyway

a/n3: also a little something for @sinofwriting who saw nothing!

Masterlist | Taglist | Rookie Masterlist

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Max and Ollie/Kimi

Private Messages, Max and y/n

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user1: oh my god this was Ollie???

↳user2: if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes…

↳user1: you’d guess it was Charles’ parking??

↳user2: yeah

user3: omg that’s Ollie?

↳user2: and Kimi!

↳user3: awwww that’s so cute — they’re together in Monaco?

↳user2: yup!

user4: i wonder what brought them out??

↳user5: right? Last I knew they were still holed up with max and y/n

↳user4: for my own peace of mind — I’m saying cravings

↳user5: I love that so much

user6: no blood test needed here…

↳user7: not at all

↳user8: god I hope that’s not actually genetic 😂😂

Private Messages, Ollie and Kimi

Bluesky

user9: no way 🤣🤣

user10: did someone actually buy that many diapers???

user11: this is gonna be my new Roman Empire!

user12: omg I saw this too and I swear to god it was Ollie and Kimi!

↳user13: the drivers??

↳user12: yes!

↳user13: seriously???

user14: if these ARE Ollie and Kimi — that’s hilarious. Do they understand how kids work?

↳user15: I’m guessing not 😂

user16: that’s so many — do you think y/n might be having multiples??

↳user17: we don’t actually know when her due date is…I thought, based on size, it might be soon but it’s possible she’s still early and is just having 2 or 3?

↳user18: this is so horribly invasive?

↳user19: absolutely true! It’s (more) likely that Kimi and Ollie just didn’t know how many diapers to buy

user20: god I wanna know how they’re gonna get them back to their house…

↳user21: OMG that’s such a good point — it’s not fit in their car…

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user22: big same!

↳user23: oh to be so spoiled…

↳user22: I’d love nothing more

user24: that was Ollie!! I saw him coming out of the Chanel store!

↳user25: literally start talking rn

↳user24: nothing much to say honestly — he was following Kimi I guess, who like booked it out of the store, and i managed to get a selfie with Ollie!

↳user24: he said something like they were doing some shopping for baby lion!

↳user25: Stop. That’s so adorable!

user26: are max’s adopted kids shopping for his unborn kid right now??

↳user27: that’s absolutely what it looks like

↳user26: I love that more than i can say

Private Messages, Kimi and Ollie

Bluesky

user28: they’re just little kids really

user29: oh that’s so adorable

user30: I swear I saw them stop for ice cream before they went in the toy store

↳user31: well they’ve apparently been out all day — they need a pick me up 😂

user32: ok but I need to know where max and y/n are? Cause you know our chronically online queen has like alerts to her kids names?

↳user33: that’s a good point!

↳user32: she’s been suspiciously absent so far today…

user34: update! They made a bee-line to the LEGO section of the store and are now sitting on the ground comparing different racing sets

↳user35: hopefully not for the baby! That’s bad

↳user34: I’m gonna go out on a limb and say they’re buying it for themselves — Kimi keeps trying to sneak more and more Mercedes sets into their cart and Ollie is just replaced them with the Ferrari and Haas ones

↳user35: omg 😂😂

user36: ok but how do I die rn and reincarnate as a specific baby??

↳user37: same but im like asking for a friend!

↳user38: im not. I need to know for myself

Private Messages, the Pride

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @anunstablefangirl @evie-119 @sugarfreerbr @princessesgarden @tukes @mayax2o07 @teti-menchon0604 @galaxygurlll @star73807-blog @shelbyteller @ihaveitprinteddout @lilymaleshka @kuolonsyoja @allthings-fandom @mountainshuman @hannahmotors10 @moonypixel @nikfigueiredo @daisydaze111 @deephideoutmilkshake @loveyahachoo @raizelchrysanderoctavius @dying-inside-but-its-classy @mimisweetz @books-fangirl-books @bookishprophecy

[motorsportbarbie13]

Hurricane - Part 1

{Max’s eyes snap up to meet hers when Emma greets him, voice still a bit scratchy from sleep. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles over at her. “Good morning Sleeping Beauty!” 

Emma rolls her eyes but feels the heat creep back into her cheeks. “I feel more like Maleficent in her dragon form than Aurora.” 

Max smiles over at her again, “Well, I assure you, I could never mistake you for a dragon.” }

warnings: swearing, discussions of sexual harassment by an employer, max being a protective guard dog, anxiety, emma's parents suck hardcore in this one. pairing: max verstappen x emma meyer (original character) word count: 4.7k words

master list hurricane playlist ask me anything

“Max, are you at home?” The panic that edged into Victoria’s voice had Max sitting up straighter on the couch, despite the mind-numbing exhaustion that threatened to pull him under. 

“I literally just walked in the door ten minutes ago, Vic. What’s wrong? Everything okay?” He knew it wasn’t. Victoria rarely called him anymore, too busy wrangling 2 little boys and now a new baby girl. He understood but it still stung every time he tried to call her after a race and she didn’t answer. So something had to be really wrong to get Vic out of bed this late on a Monday night to call him. 

“It’s Emma…” 

Max’s brain scrambled trying to figure out why that name sounded familiar. “Emma?” 

On the other end of the phone, his sister huffed a sigh, clearly not in the mood to explain the little details like who she was talking about. “Emma Meyer? The woman that was my maid of honor at my wedding? Gave a big speech that I think made even you tear up?” 

It all clicked suddenly as Max hummed in confirmation. He hadn’t seen Emma since his sister’s wedding a few years prior, but even then his memories of her were fuzzy. She was Victoria’s best friend but he never had been that close to her other than a few passing glances and casual greetings after sleepovers when Max was still living at home. Other than that though, Max remembered very little of his sister’s best friend. “What does Emma have to do with me being home?” 

“I need you to go get her.” 

Max’s brain stuttered for a moment as he struggled to wrap his mind around the sentence his sister had said. “What are you talking about, Vic? I’m not…What?” 

There was no way Max was going to leave the apartment for the foreseeable future for anything, let alone a woman who he didn’t even know. He’d just touched down from China less than an hour ago, a race that had been fraught with drama and tension in the Red Bull garage. He’d missed the podium by one spot but considering how dog shit the car was this year, he was just happy to have finished in the points. Between that and the drama around his struggling teammate and the imminent decision of his fate in the 2nd Red Bull seat, Max had been looking forward to a few days of complete and total silence and isolation. 

“I know you’re tired and just got back from a race weekend but I wouldn’t have called you if it wasn’t an emergency. Emma took a nannying job in Monaco a few weeks ago and the dad is a total creep.” 

This caught Max’s attention. He may not remember much about Emma but the one thing that stood out in his memory was how close her and Vic had been growing up and how much Vic adored her. She had always been a quiet mouse of a little girl, walking around as if she was worried her mere presence would annoy anyone she came into contact with. The thought of anyone causing that little girl distress made Max’s stomach twist painfully. 

“What do you mean ‘creep’?” 

Victoria heaved a sigh, “I’ve been telling her to quit since the day she got there. He makes comments about her body, has a habit of walking around at night in just his boxers, has cornered her in the kitchen a few times when the wife was out of the house.” 

Bile rose in Max’s throat with each bit of information he learned. 

“The wife caught him tonight when he cornered Emma while she was doing dishes. The fucking asshole had the balls to blame it on her! Said she’d been trying to seduce him since the day she started.” 

“Are you serious?” Max stood from the couch, still seething at the story Victoria was telling him, and started towards the door. He slipped on his shoes and grabbed the first set of keys he saw before reaching for his wallet. 

“Deadly!” Victoria cried. “So the wife, of fucking course, believed her husband and fired Emma on the spot. She called me sobbing. She has no where to go and it’s nearly dark.” 

“Ok. I’ll go get her. Can you send me her location and tell her I’ll be there as soon as I can. Send me her number too, I’ll call her when I get close. Is she still in the house?” 

Max was already at the elevator to his penthouse, stabbing the button for the garage level as he listened to Victoria. “I think she’s packing now. I’m going to call her back and stay on the phone with her until you get there. I’ll send you her location and number now.” 

The relief in his sister’s voice was unmistakable. He could tell this situation really had her spooked and for someone as level headed and Dutch as his sister, Max knew this was serious. 

“It’s okay, Vic. I’ll go get her and make sure she’s safe. Then we’ll figure out what our next move is from there. Tell her to call the police if the husband tries anything else.” 

Hearing a message notification chime, Max pulled the phone away from his ear to see the pin that Victoria had sent him. A quick scan of the map told him everything he needed to hear. The tension that had slowly been building up between his shoulder blades eased a bit when he saw how close Emma was. “She’s only 10 minutes away from the apartment. Tell her I’ll be there soon, okay?” 

It only took Max seven minutes to reach the sleepy neighborhood tucked away in the hilly outskirts of Monaco. Behind him the sun had set the early spring sky ablaze with golds, yellows, and reds as it began its nightly descent behind the sea. The breeze was calmer up here compared to his apartment back down closer to the marina but as Max’s eyes flicked from the nav system on his Aston Martin to the road looking to see where Emma was, he saw the leaves in the tree flutter slightly. 

The map program alerted Max to his imminent arrival and just as the sun started to ease further behind the horizon, he caught sight of a petite blonde standing on the sidewalk surrounded by three giant suitcases. Max struggled to rectify the image of Emma he had been building in his head over the last 20 minutes with the woman that was standing there waiting for him. The Emma he had expected had been cobbled together from innocent old memories that were fuzzy at the edges and brief catches of attention the last time he had seen her at Victoria’s wedding. 

The Emma that was standing in front of his bottle green Aston Martin, looking at him wide eyed with tears streaming down her face, was not what he expected. Her hair was impossibly long, falling nearly to her waist, with half of it pulled up and out of her face, piled in a messy bun near the crown of her head. She was taller than he remembered but just as slender, more delicate than he recalled but those dove gray eyes that reminded him of the marina on a rainy day? He’d never forget the way they’d blinked over at him that evening, wide and terrified. 

Max’s heart twisted violently when he realized she’d been crying. It took every ounce of carefully trained control to keep him from walking straight into the mansion he was parked in front of and beat some sense into whoever made Emma cry like that. 

Throwing his car into park, Max was up and out of the car in the blink of an eye. “Emma!” He called out, relieved to see that there was no one watching her from the house. 

It was if something clicked in Emma’s brain the moment Max said her name. Instantly, the guarded, scared look of a bird about to take flight flickered out of her eyes, her face relaxing into something still cautious but much more open than before. 

“Max.” The way she says his name sounds like relief, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. 

He’s in front of Emma then, staring down at her, searching for any hint of physical harm that her former employer might have done in the time it took him to get to her. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind alarm bells clanged to life at the way he itched to touch her, to make sure that she was real. 

Alarm bells that he ignored. 

“Are you okay?” Max works to keep his voice low and steady, to keep from spooking her with how angry he really was. 

Emma nods quickly, her eyes darting back towards the mansion behind her before flicking back up to meet Max’s gaze again. She hugs herself tightly, like she’s desperately trying to ground herself, like the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth was the fact that her arms were wrapped snugly around her middle. She’s shivering, despite the late evening heat still hanging in the air, and it takes everything Max has not to wrap her up in his arms to get her to stop shaking. 

“Physically? Yeah. Just shaken more than anything really.” 

Max shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and nods, “Okay.” He says softly, gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before turning to the three suitcases sitting sadly on the sidewalk. “Let’s get these into the car and then we’ll go back to my apartment and figure out our next move.”

Emma shakes her head, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “You can just take me to a hotel or something, I don’t want to be an imposition. I should have enough money for a night or two.” Anxiety flickers across her face and Max feels the bile rise in his throat again. There was something desperate in the way she’d replied, like she felt she was going to get into trouble for accepting his help. 

Max shakes his head, leaning down to pick up the biggest of the three suitcases. “Vic would cut off my balls if she found out I allowed that.” 

He smirks when Emma chokes out a laugh at his words, relieved at the way the weight on her shoulders seem to shift into something easier to carry. 

“You’re not going to let me with this one, are you?” She asks, sensing that she’d be fighting a losing battle if she tried to convince him of anything else. 

Having slipped the first suitcase into the trunk of the car, Max returns to the curb to retrieve the last two. He grins at her before he bends down, “I’m a four time world champion, do you think I’m going to let you win anything ever?” 

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Fine. But only for one night, okay? You’ve already been more than generous with your time.” 

“You’re important to Vic, so it’s important to me that you’re safe.” Max says simply before slamming the trunk. 

The look on Emma’s face at his words has him pausing. He can’t quite place the emotion behind it but there are wisps of confusion and anxiety dancing across her pretty features. Max has never been particularly good at reading people though, so he could be wrong. Cars are easy for him. They make sense. They never say one thing while meaning the complete opposite. It’s people that confuse him. 

Just as Max rounds the front of his car, intent on ushering Emma into the passenger seat of his car, the front door of the mansion swings open. A tall, balding man stands in the doorway, his face a flaming shade of indignant angry red. 

“What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” He yells from the porch, loud and accusatory, the harsh words cutting through the quiet evening air. 

Max freezes for only a moment before stepping between Emma and the man as he stalks down the sidewalk towards the pair. The protective instincts that had flared the moment Victoria had told him about the ‘creep’ now surged into white-hot fury. He recognized the entitled arrogance radiating off the man, knew he was one of those men that wasn’t used to hearing the word no and had the fuse of an old charge of TNT. Short. Dangerous. 

Max’s jaw clenches as he checks to make sure Emma is securely behind him and out of reach of the man now standing less than six feet away from them. 

“I’m helping Emma leave.” Max replies, dangerous and low. 

“Leave? She was fired! She has no right to take anything from this house! She could be robbing us blind for all we know!” 

Max scoffs, “She has every right to her belongings, you piece of shit. You have absolutely no evidence she’s taken anything else.” He spits, his carefully constructed walls of composure rapidly crumbling. 

He takes a step towards the man, pulling himself up to his full height, intent on intimidation. The exhaustion from his long flight back to China, the frustration of the race weekend, the political drama fueling his team right now, all of it was forgotten and replaced by a strange and sudden primal urge to protect the blonde cowering behind him. 

“You watch your tone, boy! Do you even know who I am?” Th man blusters, puffing out his chest in a pathetic attempt to intimidate the Dutchman. 

Max barks out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck about who you are. You preyed on a vulnerable woman who was living under your roof, taking care of your children, thousands of miles away from her own home. You made her feel unsafe and then you blamed her for your disgusting behavior.” Max’s chest heaves. He hadn’t realized just how worked up he was until this moment. “The only thing I care about right now is getting Emma away form you, you pathetic excuse of a man.” 

Behind him, Emma gasps softly, her hand flying to her mouth. 

But Max wasn’t done. He takes another step towards the man, who notably shuffles away from the finger Max is now pointing straight into his chest. “And if you so much as try to contact her again,” He seethes, “You’ll have me to deal with me and my team of very well educated, very expensive lawyers who I keep on retainer at all times. They love going after assholes like you. So go ahead and fuck around, because they’d love to see you find out.” 

The man, despite his previous blustering, seems to shrunk back slightly under the intensity of Max’s glare. Silence hangs heavy in the air as the man’s eyes dart from Max over to Emma and then back again. 

“Get off my property!” He finally sputters, pointing his own shaking finger back at Max. 

“Gladly.” Max sneers. Turning back to Emma, his expression softens slightly as he takes in her wide, still-tearful eyes. “Lets go.” His hand finds the small of Emma’s back and he gently guides her into the passage door of his car. 

He keeps his gaze fixed on the man standing on the sidewalk as Emma slips into his car. Only when she’s safely tucked away inside and the door is closed does Max finally turn his back fully on the mansion. He walks to the drivers side quickly, his adrenaline still pumping and the image of Emma’s distress and the man’s repulsive demeanor burned into his mind. 

What had started out as a quiet night to recover from the chaos that was his entire existence had shifted into something entirely unexpected and Max wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen next. 

It was the silence that woke Emma up the next morning. For the last two weeks she had been woken up at exactly 6:30am by the two children that she had been nannying for, despite her contractual hours not beginning until 8am. So when she blinked away the sleep, eyes gritty with exhaustion after the drama the night before, Emma was confused. The sheets were too soft, the bedroom too bright, the silence too loud. 

The memories of last night came flooding back as she sat up in bed. 

How Andrea had screamed at her when she had walked in on Marcus cornering her in the kitchen. At first she had been relieved, happy that her boss was finally going to see first hand the harassment she’d been dealing with since she came to live with them but the relief quickly turned into horror as Marcus had spun the story to benefit him and blame her. The fight that had ensued had roused both Amelia and Beatrice from their beds but Emma had been powerless to protect the two little girls. 

How panicked she had felt while packing up her belongings as Andrea had hovered at the doorway of her bedroom in the basement. 

How relieved she had felt when Victoria had picked up on the first ring, instantly saying she’d call her brother to see if he was in Monaco and available to help.

How her stomach had twisted the first time Max had said her name. 

Heat flared in Emma’s cheeks as she remembered that part. His voice, thick Dutch accent laced with concern, echoed in her head as she made moves to get out of bed and figure out what was next. She hadn’t seen him since Victoria’s wedding a handful of years ago but nothing had changed about him. His icy blue eyes had pinned her right to the sidewalk, intense and concerned. She hadn’t expected him to actually show up for her but if there was one thing Max Verstappen loved, it was his sister. Emma was pretty sure he would do anything for her. 

Pausing at the door after pulling a sweater on over the tank top she had worn to bed, Emma listened to see if Max was awake yet. She had no idea what his schedule was or if he was waiting for her. The thought of asking Max and Vic for more help after all they had done last night turned her stomach sour. The voice of her mother echoed in her head in the absence of any sound coming from outside the spare room: ‘Emma, if you can’t do this by yourself, you cannot do it at all. I don’t want to help you and your father doesn’t have the time. Figure it out yourself.’ 

Figure it out yourself. 

That had been the mantra she had been raised with and even now, at 25 years old, that lesson that had been ingrained in her head as a little girl still stuck.

But Max had come for her. No questions. No pushing. No ‘how could you have let this happen to you?’ accusations. Just a simple, steady presence and a question after her well being. It soothed something raw in her at the same time it made her anxious, the dueling feelings unsettling something deep within her. 

As Emma padded down the quiet hallway, her heart rate ratcheted up. Last night, after Max had refused to bring her to a hotel, Emma had pretty much immediately taken refuge in the solitude that the guest room had offered her. There had been little small talk on the drive home but the silence hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable. That was something she had always appreciated about her best friend’s older brother. He sat in the silence comfortably, not feeling the need to fill it with silly platitudes or casual conversation. 

She found Max standing at his kitchen counter, soft gray t-shirt stretching tightly over his broad chest and biceps. He had a ball cap on with the bill turned backwards, a pair of black sweats riding low on his hips. Emma’s mouth went dry at the sight of him, Max’s arms working confidently as he scrambled eggs in a small metal bowl. 

“Morning.” 

Max’s eyes snap up to meet hers when Emma greets him, voice still a bit scratchy from sleep. The corners of his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles over at her. “Good morning Sleeping Beauty!” 

Emma rolls her eyes but feels the heat creep back into her cheeks. “I feel more like Maleficent in her dragon form than Aurora.” 

Max smiles over at her again, “Well, I assure you, I could never mistake you for a dragon.” 

Emma huffs a laugh, shaking her head. For the first time, she notices the veritable spread that covers most of the kitchen counter she was leaning against. A giant bowl of cut fruit, bacon, pancakes stacked several high. Behind Max, the stove was switched on and she could see a pan of scrambled eggs sizzling away.  

Panic inches into the edge of Emma’s mind. Oh God, what if he had plans with someone this morning and she had ruined it all? What if he had someone staying with him last night and this was all for her and not Emma? What if she had just barged in on a date that Max had ended early just to come to her rescue? The thoughts spiraled as she stood there, barefoot cold on the hardwood floor of the kitchen. 

“This is…a lot of food.” Emma chokes on the words, hoping Max doesn’t notice her panic. “Are you expecting company? I can totally leave if you have other plans.” 

If she had been paying closer attention, Emma would have noticed the blush painting it’s way across Max’s cheeks before he answered. “I didn’t know what you’d want for breakfast so I kind of made everything I had in the kitchen.” 

Something unfamiliar twists in Emma’s stomach at the way Max is looking at her, like she’s delicate and worth his attention. It was wholly unfamiliar and a bit unsettling. 

“You…” She murmurs, her dove-gray eyes darting between Max’s and the spread of food apparently meant just for her. “You made this all for me?” 

Max looks at Emma like he’s surprised at her reaction. “I figured you might be hungry after everything that happened last night. I didn’t know if you had eaten dinner and didn’t ask last night so I just took a gamble and made everything that resembled breakfast food.” 

Emma’s hand rubs absentmindedly at the ache that had settled in her chest at his words. “Thank you, Max.” She repeats. “For last night and for all of this. You didn’t have to do all of this just for me.” She says, voice thick with anxiety that she’s embarrassed has taken hold behind her ribcage. 

Max’s smile softens a bit as he watched Emma take a bite of bacon. “You don’t have to thank me, I was just doing my brotherly white knight duties, rescuing a damsel in distress.” 

Brotherly duties. Right. Emma struggled to keep the disappointment from reaching her eyes at his words. Max hadn’t done this for her, it had solely been for Victoria. 

Max watches Emma carefully from where he sits across from her at his kitchen table. She looks tired, like she spent a majority of her night tossing and turning and not resting. His heart aches when he thinks about how she had looked at him last night when he got out of the car, like she was shocked he had come for her and afraid that he wasn’t real. 

When he had walked past the door to his guest room this morning he had paused for just a moment, telling himself he was only trying to see if she was awake and moving around behind the closed door. He wanted to make sure she felt comfortable here, knowing that the last few weeks spent with that family had probably not been the easiest of environments. He listened to the silence for a few moments before moving on, determined to be close enough so that Emma didn’t panic when she woke up but far enough away from her to give her the space she probably needed. 

“Not that I’m trying to rush you because you are more than welcome to stay here as long as you want.” Max begins after a few moments of comfortable silence. “But, is there anything I can do to help with what you want to do next?” 

Emma simply blinked at him, forkful of pancakes frozen halfway to her mouth in surprise. If she hadn’t looked so startled, Max would have laughed at her reaction to his question. “Oh. I…I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Max shrugs, “That’s okay. I’m sure last night was a lot. I assume you want to head back home then? I can arrange to get your suitcases shipped back to your parents house for you?” 

Emma startles so violently she drops her fork, the clattering noise of metal against porcelain ringing harshly through the apartment. The anxiety and downright fear that flashes across her pretty features has Max sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. That was clearly not the right thing to suggest. 

“Or…” He starts, seeing the way her breathing quickens at his question. “You can stay here for a while if you’d like. There’s no rush to make any decisions right now but maybe you should call Vic and let her know you’re okay?” 

Clearly alerting her parents to her situation was out of the question, judging by her reaction to his suggestion so Max retreats to what, and who, he knows is safe. He watches as she pulls herself back together right in front of his eyes. It’s a stunning thing to watch, Emma piecing herself back together, shoving the anxiety and fear down somewhere deep below the surface. 

In a matter of seconds, Emma has composed herself again, her delicate features schooled into a careful mask of neutrality. “I texted her last night but you’re right. I think Hailey should be down for her morning nap by now and I know the boys go to nursery school on Tuesdays.” 

Max nods, watching as Emma stands from the table before taking her phone out into the living room to call his sister. The reaction to his suggestion of her going home pulls at Max for some reason. The way she had nearly shattered her plate with how hard she had dropped her fork was an interesting response. She hadn’t offered up why that was not an option but seemed relieved when Max didn’t push. 

He hadn’t spent much, if any, time with Emma and her parents but he remembered Emma always being over whenever he was home on a break from racing. She always seemed to be with Victoria on the weekends and in the evenings during the week. It hadn’t even crossed his mind as unusual when he was growing up but now? Seeing her nearly slip into a panic attack at the mere thought of going back home to The Netherlands had alarm bells ringing in his head. 

Max wasn’t going to push the issue though. He could sense that she didn’t want to open up about it but that was okay. If she didn’t want to go back, that was fine with him too. He had a feeling going home to Maaseik wasn’t any more of an option for Emma than staying with that family she had been working for until last night. 

And Max would be dammed if he was going to send her back into another bad situation directly after saving her from one just a few hours prior.  

as always, thank you to the best beta reader BFF who is always willing to entertain my ‘OKAY BUT WHAT IF’ messages at 2am @lestapiastrisgirl ❤️

tag list: @shelbyteller, @martygraciesversion381, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @llando4norris @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama @lauralarsen @dr3wstarkey @saskiaalonso @rbv3rstappen @ilovechickenwings @guaaafiiburg @mcmuppet @mindless-rock @piastri-fvx @mel164 @schumi-angel @myescapefromthislife @supertrashbread @sunny44 @tinystudentblaze-stuff @sarx164 @xoxomansee

[nyree2712]

Formula 1 - Incorrect Quote 143

Charles: Max, get that hideous thing out of the living room, would you?

Max: Russell, my Charlie wants you out of the house

[multifandomgirl08]

No Time To Die [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: Max goes racing at Nürburgring and it doesn't end well.

Warning(s): Car crash, mention of concussion and fractured ribs

A/N: This was a tough chapter to write, my beta reader had to convince me that this was a good chapter to publish since I was so concerned by even the idea of this chapter.

Title taken from No Time To Die by Billie Eilish written to Wash. by Bon Iver.

Words: 9.7k

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NEWS

Gianpiero Lambiase to leave Oracle Red Bull Racing after Verstappen’s 2030 F1 Exit

15th January 2031

Early today Red Bull Racing announced that Gianpiero Lambiase would be leaving the team after 15 years. The same amount of time that Driver Max Verstappen has been at the team.

Lambiase worked with driver Daniil Kvyat and maintained his position within the team when Verstappen went to replace Kvyat in 2015. In 2022, Lambiase took over as Head of Race Engineering from Guillaume Roqueline for Red Bull,  while also retaining his role as race engineer to Verstappen.

Both Verstappen and Lambiase sat down with Red Bull’s Talking Bulls podcast after the start of the winter break. Verstappen giving his final goodbyes to the F1 team and Lambiase to let people know that he would be leaving to be Verstappen’s enginner in the coming WEC season.

“Max told me that he was planning on doing Word Endurance next year (2031), and he asked me if I would be interested in working with him and his team.”

“I wouldn’t let him say no,” Verstappen interjected.

Lambiase just laughed, “Yes, so with that I want to announce that I’ll be leaving the team to be able to work with Max as he moves into World Endurance.”

This poses the question of what Red Bull will do now with both the loss of Verstappen and Lambiase from the team. How will Horner fill in the role of both a top driver and a race engineer leaving the team in the same year?

📍Nürburgring Nürburg, Germany - Hour 6

Today was supposed to be an exciting day. It was Max’s first 24 hour endurance race at Nürburgring. The infamous Nordschleife was a staple when it came to racing endurance. At least that was what Max had told her.

Hour 6 of the race had just started and before she knew it, Max was in the car driving like any other race and then she heard an announcement about a collision between two cars show up on the screen. It looked like Max’s car, and it had barreled over three times before landing flat, hood up. A moment later marshals showed up to pull the driver out of the car and it was, Max. He was being pulled out and was leaning over before someone tried to help him stand straight up, but he looked like he couldn’t manage it.

Her eyes fell away from the screen to look at the kids, Nicole reaching for her first, “Mama?”

She had just opened her mouth when she spotted Christian walking towards them.

“What is going on?” She asked.

“Y/N,” he said a little too calmly for her liking. “There was a collision, Max and another driver who was driving for Porsche. The guy in the Porsche was breaking too early and collided with Max, they both went into the wall but Max’s car flipped a few times. We’re lucky that neither of them hurt anyone else. Max is being driven to the hospital as we speak.”

She could feel her stomach drop and then start to feel heavy. She needed to leave, she couldn’t be here. “I… I need to go to the hospital.” The kids. “Can you and Geri watch the kids? Until I find out if he’s okay?”

Christian just nodded. “Of course, Y/N. We’ll get someone to drive you and call me when you find out how he’s doing.”

She gave Christian a small nod back as a reply.

“Kids,” She calls them over, Nicole slipping her hand into Y/N’s. “I’m going to go to the hospital to check on Papa. You’re going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa, okay?”

“Mum,” She hears Nico say. “Is Dad going to be okay?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find out when I go to the hospital.”

“Mum, it looked bad-” Nico started to say.

“Don’t watch the footage yet, okay. Let me check on him first,” Y/N reached for Nico and kissed his forehead and then pulled the younger kids in for a hug.

“Be good for Grandma and Grandpa.”She said, she walked Nicole over to Geri, and Geri took the little girls hand before Y/N moved to leave the track and was led to a car by Max’s trainer who insisted on going with her to the hospital. It was hard to sit in the car, in the defining silence with neither her or Rupert talking as he drove.

Her phone flashed with a notification text from a few people:

Sophie Daniel Victoria Lando Charles

She didn’t open any of their messages, just pushed the notifications away to a photo of her and Max. He had been in his new team Verstappen race suit on his first day of testing for the year. She normally didn’t go with him so he could concentrate on work but she couldn’t shake the feeling like she needed to be there this time.

Lulham had taken their picture, Max was standing behind her smiling after Chris had made a joke to get Max to smile. Max had pulled her tightly into his chest and then buried his head into her shoulder before saying, “Okay, enough. Anymore of this and we will all be old by the time a good picture is taken.”

She had kissed Max on the cheek and then let him go. “Have fun,” and then mouthed the words I love you.

She left Max and Chris so they could get ready to get into their cars and walked by GP and said to him, “Keep Max in one piece.”

The Brit replied, “You know I will, Y/N. I’ll take care of him while he’s out there.”

She gave him a nod moving further into the garage and sat out of the way of the engineers and mechanics.

“You know he’ll be okay.” Rupert said as they got closer to the hospital.

“You mean now or eventually?” She had asked him. Not every driver made it out of accidents unscathed. She couldn’t think of there possibly being something truly wrong with Max.

Rupert said nothing the rest of the drive. Her leg started to shake for a bit before Rupert finally pulled up to the hospital. She had the self-restraint to let Rupert park the car before walking into the hospital and going to the reception desk to ask about Max.

She walked up to the information desk before an older woman who was about Sophie’s age looked at her. “Can I help you?” The woman had asked.

“Yes, my husband was just brought in… He was in an… accident.” She paused at the word, having to use a word that was unfamiliar to the German that she would occasionally hear.

“What’s his name?” She quickly switched to English, probably noticing that she was struggling with her words a little.

“Max Verstappen.” She said and then started to turn her wedding and engagement ring around her ring finger with her thumb.

The nurse's eyes went wide when hearing Max’s name. “Right,” The nurse said and reached for something on the desk. “I’ll make a call and ask. Do you want me to get you anything, Mrs. Verstappen?”

Y/N just shook her head no. “I just need to know that he’s okay.”

“Of course,” She said with a nod and then pulled up the phone to her ear. “Yes, trauma ward? Was there a man in his early to mid 30s just brought in?”

Y/N waited with baited breath to hear what she had to say.

“Yes, he’s in… they’re doing a CT scan. Yes, I know who he is. I’m looking at his wife right now… Okay I’ll let her know.” She had put the phone down. “He’s on the third floor, use those elevators,” she said pointing to her left. “Click three and then take a right until you reach the doors that say trauma ward. They’re still running some tests but there will be a doctor to greet you once they’re finished up with him.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said quickly before following the nurses instructions and went up to the third floor. The sign up ahead that read trauma ward made her feel a little lightheaded. She managed to find a seat just outside of the set of double doors and pulled out her phone to text Rupert where she was.

Eventually Rupert joined her sitting to her left side on the phone with someone from the team. “Yeah we’re still waiting on news… They seem to be taking their time.”

She really should have talked to Victoria or Sophie but she didn’t have any news about how Max was doing and didn’t want to call them without knowing if he was going to be alright.

“Family of Max Verstappen?” A soft voice said. Y/N looked up to see a young woman in a set of scrubs and a lab coat holding a metal-like folder.

Y/N moved from her seat, “I’m his wife.”

The female doctor moved closer to her, “And this is…” slightly pointing at Rupert.

“His trainer.”

“Ah, this will make it easier then. You showed up right as we were taking Mr. Verstappen to get his CT-scan.”

“Head injury?” Rupert asked.

“Mild concussion, he should be okay in a week or two. However, after they pulled him from the car he seemed to be nursing his ribs, we did an x-ray and there is some bruising on his upper ribs which will take a few weeks to heal.”

“And besides that?” Y/N asked.

“We don’t know, we’ve given him some pain medication and he’s asleep for now. He should wake up in a few hours. But he’ll be fine after his injuries heal.”

Rupert nodded and then Y/N followed in suit. “He’s on the second floor, I’ll take you to his room so you can see him.”

Her and Rupert followed the doctor to the floor below before being taken to a white door. Y/N looked into the room to see Max’s asleep, his eyes closed and on his back.

“Can I ask you a few more questions about what I’ll need to get ready for him in the coming weeks?” Rupert asked the doctor.

“Sure,” The doctor had said leaving her outside of Max’s hospital room.

She slowly opened the door moving to his side, she had pulled up the chair that was resting against the far wall before reaching for Max’s limp hand. The only comfort she had was the sound of the heart monitor in the background giving off a steady deep, deep, deep.

She gripped his hand in her’s giving it a small squeeze before hearing, “Uhh.”

Max’s voice made the sound of the heart monitor in the room diminish.

“Hey, hey.” She said trying to meet his eyes noticing a small cut by his left eyebrow and his cheek had a small bruise.

He looked around the room for a moment, his fingers clasped around her hand in a vice.

“Max, Maxy,” She kept saying before his eyes finally landed on her. She saw his pupils diminish at a scary rate.

“Mijn…” He started to speak taking in a deep breath.

He moved his head up very slowly.

“Don’t move to much, Rupert is going to be back in a few. He’s talking to the doctor.” She said. She saw that Max was trying to nod but that he was struggling.

It was hard to watch him like this. A few tears fell and she felt his hand grip her’s. She let out a shaky breath.

“I’m so happy that you’re okay. I saw the replay of the car flip-” She didn’t bother finishing her sentence as Max’s eyes met her’s. He reached his hand up a little brushing the tears that were now staining her cheek away.

“How bad?” He asked.

“It looks worse from the drone view.” She started to say before she heard the door open to see Rupert and the doctor come through the door.

“Well look who’s awake,” The doctor said. “Any pain Max? In your neck or eyes?”

“A bit in my neck,” Max slowly answered with his words slightly slurring.

“Worse then 2021?” Rupert asked.

Max slowly shook his head. “Not like that, more like it’s sore.”

The doctor nodded, “That’s good that it isn’t like your last accident.”

The doctor looked down at the folder in her hands, “Well since your wife and trainer are here, I can tell you that your concussion isn’t severe. Stay away from looking at a screen for a week or two. Your ribs are also bruised, so you can’t have to much exercise, so light walking to start with. Your ribs should take six weeks to heal. I’ll recommend you a doctor for when you go home and they can take another look and see how things are going.”

Max mostly starred at the doctor before glancing at Rupert. She knew what Max was thinking, he did all the work over the last few months only for this to happen. He couldn’t race 24 Hours of Le Mans with his injury now.

“I know Max,” Rupert said looking at him. “Get some rest, your kids will be by in a bit. We’ll talk about the rest later.”

Max dropped his head and then peaked up at her through his lashes, as if he was ashamed of something. Rupert walked out of the room after gesturing to his phone and left them alone.

“Max,” She reached up to cup his cheek. “Do you want me to leave you in here. I need to call Sophie and then check in to see if Christian has already left the track with the kids.”

He just shook his head no, dropped his head back to his pillow and then slowly closed his eyes.

“Okay, I’m going to call her first. Can I put her on speaker?”

Max nodded, “If it’s too much for you, just squeeze my hand.”

Max said nothing before Y/N pulled away from him a little to dial Sophie’s number. The dial tone rang for a few seconds before she heard the familiar voice of her mother-in-law, “Y/N?”

“Sophie?” She asked back.

“Are you still at the track? Do you have news about our boy?” Max’s eyes met hers.

“I’m at the hospital with him, he’s awake, has some pretty bad bruises and a concussion, other than that he seems okay.”

Y/N could hear a little commotion from the phone and Sophie’s voice talking to someone.

“Y/N,” Victoria’s voice came through next.

“Yeah, still here.” She said looking at Max’s peaceful face.

“Are the kids with you?” She asked.

“No they’re with Geri and Christian, but they’ll be at the hospital soon.”

“Great, just gives you the opportunity to do what Max hates most,” Y/N couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle, Max did hate being fussed over. “If I were on the track I would have made Arvidson pay.”

Y/N held Max’s gaze and saw a small smile start to spread over Max’s lips. She leaned in a little closer and kissed the back of Max’s hand, his wedding ring was missing. Probably still with Rupert, she thought.

“Victoria!” She heard Sophie yell through the phone. “You should not say these things!”

“Mum!” The rest of what Victoria said seemed to be inaudible for a few moments.

“Victoria, it’s okay. Max can hear you,” She said to stop Sophie and Victoria from continuing their conversation.

“See, she understands.” Y/N heard Victoria say.

Y/N just shook her head. Was it odd for Y/N to hope that her and Nicole could one day have a relationship like this when her daughter was older?

“Should we come by when Max is a little more awake? I know he’ll be out of it still but-” Sophie didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence.

“Yeah, maybe after the kids get here. I’m not sure if you all can stay and I don’t want to just dump them on you.”

“You are never dumping my grandchildren on me.”

Y/N dropped her eyes to Max’s lap feeling guilty for a moment. She knew that Sophie didn’t see it that way. She just needed to focus on Max right now.

“I know,” She quickly. “I know, I just don’t want you to have to fly out. We’re hoping that the doctor will let us know when Max can go home so you don’t have to fly out here.” She felt Max give her hand a firm squeeze.

“Well keep us posted. And tell Max we love him.”

“Yeah, I will.” She said after ending the call and looking up at Max, pulling her phone away from the bed and open up her phone contacts.

“I…” She says and moves to get out of her chair. “I still need to call Christian.”

“Mijn leeuwin,” He said stopping her from moving. “Can calling him wait?”

She nods at him and then looks at her phone to see that Christian had already texted her.

“Christian and Geri are on the way with the kids,” She said laying her phone screen down. “I’ll text him in a minute. He sends his best.”

“I know what you are doing.” Is all Max has to say for her to take a deep breath and calm down a little.

She ends up text Christian back a few moments later,

It took almost an hour for Christian and Geri to get here. They walked into the room first with the kids following after them.

“Dad,” Nico said as he saw Max lying in the bed.

“Papa,” Niki said moving towards Max and reached to hug him. Max let out a small groan as Niki tightened his arms around Max.

Nicole went over to her and moved to try to sit in her lap, Y/N pulled her further into her lap. Nik reached over and gave Max a loose hug.

“I saw the crash,” Nico said after Nik had pulled away from Max.

Max and Y/N looked up at Christian, “I tried to stop him from watching it. He wouldn’t listen.”

Nicole buried her head into Y/N’s shoulder, and let out a tiny sob.

“Nicole,” Max said, reaching for her little hand.

“Baby,” Y/N said, “Do you want to give Papa a hug?”

Nicole shook her head no. “Don’t want to hurt Papa.”

Y/N picked Nicole up and set her on the bed next to Max waiting to see if she would reach over and hug him.

“Schat,” Max said slightly opening his arms for her. “Please.”

Nicole relented at Max’s plea and reached her little arms around his neck to hug him. Y/N could tell that she wasn’t hugging him with her normal strength, being extra careful. 

It took a moment but Y/N could hear Nicole start to fully cry. Max’s hand went to Nicole’s head gently stroking her hair, “I’m okay, schatje. I’ll be fine.” he said doing his best to comfort her.

“It looked worse then it was,” Christian chined in.

The crash did look pretty bad, the Porsche driver had clipped Max’s front bumper and it sent him spiraling three times over into the barricade, Max was lucky that the car didn’t end up landing on it’s hood but still right side up.

“There is already an investigation going on, should hear back in a day or two.” He continued.

Max just looked up from Nicole and gave him a small nod. This could all be talked about later.

“What happened to the other driver?” Nico asked.

“According to the marshals that were at the sight of the crash, he was fine. Turned a little awkwardly and ended up loosing one of his rear tires but got out of the car without a scratch.”

That just seemed unfair, the guy had clipped Max’s front bumper causing Max to have a concussion and bruised ribs and he got to walk away without a single scratch on him.

It took a few more minutes for Nicole to settle down. Her head was now resting on Max’s lap having exhausted herself from crying. One of the nurses had pulled another chair into Max’s room, Niki and Nik did their best to both occupy the chair. Nico was now in Y/N’s seat at Max’s side, talking his ear off about something that she wasn’t paying attention to.

“When can he go home?” Y/N asked the doctor as they stood outside of Max’s hospital room.

“I would say tomorrow, we want to keep him overnight for some more observation but we’ll do another check in the morning and if we like what we see he’ll be able to go home.”

Y/N nodded at her, “And your sure that his concussion won’t get worse? I know that he had one before and it took several months to heal.”

The doctor pulled her away from Max’s door a little more. “From what Mr. Manwarning told me, the force of this crash isn’t nearly as bad as the one in 2021. It’s still a concern, not because of the amount of force he experienced but that the car flipped so many times. I know that your husband had some issues with his sight but since he won’t be racing while his ribs heal, his concussion should go away much faster than before.”

Y/N was quick to nod at the doctor and thanked her. She turned back towards Max’s room looking in on her family. She doesn’t know what she would have done if Max’s injuries were significantly more severe.

Three weeks later 📍Sint-Genesius-Rode, Belgium

“I know you think your fine Max, but you heard the doctor. Your ribs aren’t healed enough for you to get into that car.” She said to him as they stood in the living room of the house after getting back from Max’s doctor’s appointment.

“I will be fine,” He insisted.

“I don’t care if you will be fine.” She said taking in a short breath. “I… I can’t raise 4 children by myself Max. It’s not fair to them and it’s not fair to me when you can be here instead of possibly getting into another accident when you’re still injured.” She says moving closer to him.

“It’s not my fault that Arvidson crashed into me, I didn’t ask for this to happen.” He insists.

“I know that, but please Max. Can’t you wait to do Le Mans next year, just until your ribs are fully healed?” She pleads as she stands close to him.

“No! I am perfectly able to drive, I don’t care that my ribs aren’t all the way healed.” 

Max didn’t feel like telling her that she was right, his ribs didn’t feel the best and his eyes were giving him small problems when he had tried driving on the sim this past week. It was hard to sit in the sim for more than two hours without feeling like he was in pain. Rupert told him that he was making good progress but still needed a bit more time.

Le Mans was less than three weeks away, if he was going to pull out and have someone replace him, it would need to be now, and he would need to tell the team in the next few days. He couldn’t keep them waiting for updates on if he could race or not.

He could hear her footsteps retreating from the room as she said nothing. He heard her bag and keys being pick up.

“Where are you going?” He asked slowly walking towards the entry way of the house.

“To talk to your mother, she seems like the only person in this family who has any sense about getting injured and not racing.” She said, her eyes brimmed with tears before grabbing the door handle of the front door and shutting it behind her.

He just shook his head at where she was standing and slowly moved back into the living room. He was cleared to look at a screen a week ago and he could play video games since the kids where in school. He could call Raymond and ask about how Thierry was doing in GT3, if they were having problems and needed help. Could he even handle driving in a GT3 car?

If I can’t drive in a GT3 car, how are I going to drive in a LMP2 car? He thought. At least three, three hours stints over 24 hours. I should be fine.

He keeps telling himself that, I should be fine. I will be fine.

It takes three hours before his phone goes off. The kids need to be picked up in an hour, Nicole and Nik from daycare, and the older boys from primary school. He check the caller ID;

MUM

He was expecting Y/N to call him instead. Why is his mum calling him?

He swipes to answer, “Hi Mum?” He says.

“Max.” She answers, and he already doesn’t like the sound of her voice. “I just wanted to call and let you know that Y/N and I talked. She told me your still going to compete at Le Mans even though your still injured.”

He let out a heavy breath. Was this his mother’s way of scolding him since she didn’t have many opportunities to do it while he was a child?

“She doesn’t understand,” He started to say.

“She doesn’t have to, she’s your wife.” He knows that his mother is going to take her side of this argument even if she understands what racing is like. “Being married is a partnership, like you have with GP when you are in the car. She is looking out for you now because she knows if she doesn’t, there is a chance that you can hurt yourself or someone else.”

He can’t help but slightly stare off at the cream walls of the living room, “Your wife is tough, we all know it. You even say it every time you call her that obnoxious pet name.”

Mijn Leeuwin 

It had been the perfect moniker to give her, she was a protective lioness, his wife. He knew this when he married her. He knew this when she had adopted Nico as her own. He just never felt like this extended to him… It had never felt like it had been about him before.

“How would you feel Max if she got hurt and you knew that you could have done something to stop it?” She asked.

“I-” He tried to speak. He could only swallow down what felt like a rock stuck in his throat. That had almost happened when Nicole was born. Why did that one nurse not want to listening to him?

“She’s trying not to lose you Max.” She said and he could hear her breath out into the receiver. “Racing is dangerous, she doesn’t want to lose you and make my grandchildren lose a father in the process.”

“Mum,” He starts to say. “I… Rupert has been telling me that I’ve been healing well.” Is all he can manage to say.

She lets out a sigh. “I know what Rupert has been saying, but do you think that you’ll be able to sit in the car and race?”

He starts to let his shoulder slump forward. “I… I don’t know.” He says, and then cave in a bit at his confession.

“There is nothing wrong with not doing this race Max.” She says. “You can always do Le Mans next year when you aren’t injured.” His mother’s words are kinder then Y/N’s question from this earlier in the day, but there is no tone of pleading. She isn’t trying to talk him out of this.

He knows that she’s trying to tell him that it’ll be better in the long run, more time to heal, more time to practice, every other possible endurance race to enter if his injuries heal in another 6 weeks. Another chance at 24 hours of Nürburgring next year with Arvidson out of the way.

“I’ll call the team and talk to them, see what they say,” He knows what the team will say. If your still injured and it’s still that bad we’ll get another driver to race. Lulham, Thierry. We’ll figure it out, just get better Max. He doesn’t like disappointing people. He doesn’t…

Max doesn’t want to put this off anymore, he wants to race Le Mans. It’s the last thing before he knows that he’s accomplished all that he wants to for the time being. Because he knows that there will always be another category to race in, another challenge, but this has been the one thing he has been chasing since he won his fourth World Drivers Championship in F1. It feels like the last hurdle. Race Le Mans, podium at Le Mans, win Le Mans. No one else but him, his team, and the car. The way it should be. No other noise but the engine in his ears. It’s all he can ask for. 

And right now it’s too much to ask for with his injury in the way.

“Can you ask Y/N to come home?” He asks his mother.

“Of course, Max. I’ll ask her, she’s just about to pick up the kids, so you’ll see her soon.”

Max closed his eyes at her words. He was hoping that he would get to talk to her before the kids needed to be picked up.

“Can you tell her that… that I love her.” He waits in utter silence for his mother to say something.

“She knows Max.” Sophie says to him. He knows that Y/N heard him. Now, he just needs to wait for her to get home. So they can talk about this.

It had been easy to sit for those three hours earlier, now it feels like time is passing by too slow. He keeps checking the time on his Rolex and rotating his wedding ring around his finger, looking at the way that the blue and black weaved carbon fiber mixed with the titanium outer-band. He hasn’t taken it off since Rupert had given it back to him when he was still in the hospital.

He can hear the sound of tires pulling into the driveway and keeps sitting on the couch waiting for everyone to come inside.

The sound of the door opens and then feet pile into the tile flooring of the entry way of the house. He hears bags being drop and shoes falling.

“I’m going to start dinner.” Y/N says slipping her shoes off.

She only spares him a glance as she walks to the kitchen. She’s avoiding him, avoiding what she thinks will be an argument. She is obviously sick of fighting with him about this.

The kids make their way into the living room with a chorus of greetings and half hugs knowing that he’s still not all the way healed.

“Are you mad at Papa?” Nicole asked as they were sitting at the table in the kitchen for dinner. Nico looked over at her with Niki and Nik sharing a glance.

Max’s eyes went wide at Nicole’s question.

“I’m not mad at Papa, I’m just worried that Papa’s still injured.” Y/N answers with her fork falling into her plate.

“Can’t you just kiss it better?” She asked sweetly.

“No sweetie, I can’t.” There was no way for Y/N to kiss his ribs and make them heal faster.

“But you can when I get scrapes on my knees.” Unfortunately Nicole’s bumps and bruises from running around the backyard weren’t the same as his fractured ribs.

“I know, but Papa’s injury is more severe. His body is still healing, but he’ll be okay.” Y/N glances at him through her lashes. He can see what she’s trying to say. See, I can’t do this on my own. I can’t do this without you.

Max can feel a knot growing in his stomach.

“What’s severe?” Nik asked while pushing his vegetables around the plate.

“It means that something is very serious and shouldn’t be taken lightly.” She does her best to explain.

The rest of dinner is quiet aside from forks and knives hitting plates.

“Does that mean that you’ll both still tuck me in for bed?” Nicole speaks up while clearing off the last of her carrots but only after they’ve been dipped in ranch dressing.

“Of course,” He answers. “Mama and I will still tuck you in.” He can already tell that Nicole is going to try to climb into bed with them at some point tonight.

Max is able to clear all of the plates off the table while the kids went to play before bed. He could mange to walk everything over to the sink but as soon as he starts to reach down to load the dishwasher he can feel an odd twinge coming from his injury. Rupert had said that the unexpected twinges of pain would go away in the next few days.

He can hear Y/N’s house slippers against the Italian marble flooring.

“Go sit on the couch, I’ll finish cleaning up.” She moves to stand at his side with her hand already reaching into the sink, her manicured fingers sinking into the food grimed water. 

He nods but doesn’t want to. She cooked so he was supposed to clean after. He was finally feeling up to it instead of just letting her take care of it like she had been since he had come home from Germany.

“I-” He tires to say. I should be the one taking care of this, not you. He wants to say. “I’m going to call the team tomorrow, let them know that I’m not doing Le Mans this year.”

Max can hear the clatter of utensils in the sink. He can feel her eyes on him and then hears her feet getting closer to him.

“Don’t do this for me,” She says. “Don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

What? He thinks, A few hours ago you wanted me to not do La Mans. Now you are okay with me racing injured?

“I don’t understand you.” He says shaking his head. “You wanted me not to race injured, now I said that I’m not.”

She takes a breath, “Exactly Max, because I asked you not to. Not because you know that it’s the wrong thing to do.”

Well she wasn’t entirely wrong. Yes, she was asking him not to race and he wasn’t going to after talking with his mum.

“It’s not wrong though. I know once I am in the car I will be fine. I will have the team looking out for me. I’m a race car driver Y/N, it’s who I am.”

“And I love that you are who you are Max, but sometimes I think that you have no concern for your own safety and it terrifies me.”

He wants to roll his eyes but knows that will only make her more upset.

“Well I won’t be racing forever.” He starts to say looking away from her. “It’s one last race. Who cares if I do it injured.”

“I do,” She says with a slight sob escaping from her lips. “I care Max.”

He closes his eyes, he immediately knows that was the wrong thing to say to her.

He takes a few steps closer to her and is careful about taking her into his arms, partially because of his ribs and also because he’s not sure is she wants him to touch her right now.

Her sobs slowly turn to full on crying. He pulls her from the kitchen and into the backyard of the house so they can sit at the bench by the pool. He doesn’t want the kids to see her this upset. He knows that it’s his fault, that he can’t let this go. She sits in his lap and he does his best not to flinch as she puts pressure on his ribs with her arms around his neck.

The only thing he feels like he can do is wait for her to stop crying, so he at least can explain to her why he feels like he needs to do this now. It breaks his heart to hear her cry. That she is this concerned with his health that it leads her to tears.

He can remember one of the first conversations that they had when he first thought about proposing. That if they were to get married, this would be it. Divorce was never an option. She didn’t believe in it and he didn’t want to put Nico through loosing a mother for a second time, even if he never knew it.

“I won’t race at Le Mans in the next couple weeks.” He starts muttering into her hair. “I’ll call the team and let them know that I’m too injured to race.” He can’t help but stumble a little with his words. He doesn’t want to say them. He doesn’t want to just give up and not push through this like he has been taught to since the first time that Jos had put him in a kart. It’s not who he is as a driver, but… when it comes to his family, and his wife. He has to put them first.

This is just one battle that he can’t win right now.

His words seem to make her crying dissipate. She hasn’t pulled away from him yet with her head still buried in his shoulder.

“Mijn,” He starts again. “Mijn liefde, please. I just need you to know that once I do this. Once I race at Le Mans,” Whenever that it, he thinks. “that will be it. I’ll be done racing until the kids are older.”

It’s hard to say those words and admit it to her. It’s hard to let go and know that Le Mans will be the end, for now. There will always be another category for him to compete in but while the kids are still growing up he can focus on them and Verstappen.com.

He can finally feel her pull away from him and tries to meet her eyes. They’re red rimmed from crying and he feels his heart grow heavy in milliseconds. He ignores that the pressure she was putting on his ribs has gone away.

“What do you mean, you’ll be done?” She croakes out.

“I of course mean no more travel unless I’m taking Nico to races or Verstappen.com needs me for something. I’ll be home a lot more.” He clarifies for her.

“Max,” She starts to say and reaches to cup his face in her hands. He looks into her eyes and can read every question that she has for him in them. The why nows? And What about the other races you’ve wanted to do? These are questions he wouldn’t mind answering. He just doesn’t want to answer the question of, Will doing this now actually be how you want this to go?

“This is why I want to do this now. I do this now, I can start to be at home more.”

“I thought that you wanted to have a real chance at winning? Not just be able to partake in the race?”

“I do-” He sighs.

“Then wait a year. Just… wait a year Max. If you want to do this, race at Le Mans and have a chance to win, do it next yeat.”

He hears her move to sit up on the bench a little more. “You know I would never ask you to give up racing Max. I just, your not invincible and I just want to make sure that if you do go and race, you won’t be injured and can do your best.”

He lets out a small huff through his nose and then drops his head to her shoulder. “If I were to race now, I don’t think I could stay in the car for more then one stint.” He admits. “I can’t disappoint them.”

He feels her arms around his shoulder and her fingers sinking into his hair.

“You won’t,” Petting his hair and moving back as she gestures for him to put his head in her lap. He lets his head fall back, “Putting your health first doesn’t make you a disappointment Max. No matter what anyone says.”

They just sit there for a while letting the air settle around them. By the time they managed to make it into the house it had grow dark outside, neither of them seemed to notice.

Walking back into the house feels like it takes so much effort. There is still noise coming from the TV, and Max peaks into the kitchen to see the sink still full with dishes.

He looks at his watch and sees that it reads 8:34, too late for most of the kids to still be up.

He has to force his hand to let go of Y/N’s so he can look into the living room and see that Nicole has her head pressed into a throw pillow, Nico still up with a video game controller in his hands. Niki and Nik were busy with their lego sets.

Y/N clears her throat, “Time for bed.”

“But Mum, it’s Friday.” Nico says. “Can we stay up a little longer?”

Max knows that Y/N wants to say no, to just tell them to go to bed so that so can they and start tomorrow with a clear head.

“You can stay up for another hour.” He answers for her. “But bed right after. I mean it Nico, I want you off that Playstation because we still have to go to the track tomorrow.”

Just because he can’t race doesn’t mean that Nico doesn’t have practice tomorrow.

“8 am?” Nico asks.

Max just nods at him and then walks into the room and is careful about lifting Nicole so he can take her up to bed.

Y/N opens her arms to take Nicole from him but he just shakes his head. Y/N walks with Niki and Nik so they can go to bed, they should have been in bed at 8. Max takes his time on the stairs as he holds Nicole, they both meet up at Nicole’s room and he places her into her bed, Y/N pulling out her pajamas while he pulls back the pink sheets. Y/N changes her and he reaches for one of her many stuffed animals and then place a little stuffed grey cat into his daughters waiting arms before they both tuck her into her sheets.

Max kisses her on her forehead and Y/N follows suit before they both see Nicole nuzzle into her pillow to tired to wake up. Y/N moves out of the room first already reaching to turn off the light switch and all Max can do is look at his daughter and see his wife in her. Her hair spread out over her pillow, and he knows if he saw his own eyes looking back at him once he had come into the house he would have sworn to never step foot into another race car again.

Max lays his hand over Y/N’s on the light switch and then both press it at the same time leaving the door wide open before walking to the main hallway making their way to the owners wing of the house.

They go about their nightly routine, changing out of clothes and putting them in the laundry. They brush their teeth in front of the sink standing next to one another, Max reaching for the cream that has slowly been helping the visible bruises on his ribs go away. He sees her in one moment and then she’s gone the next. He closes his eyes and tries to hear her footsteps against the wood flooring. She’s already moving to get into bed.

He puts the cap back on the container and slowly walks into the bedroom. The light on her nightstand is the only things illuminating the room, her hair falling around her face, her eyes a little clearer but obviously still very tired.

He climbed under the sheets, she turns the light off, and he pulls her into his chest before taking a deep breath with the scent of her shampoo making it easy for his eyes to grow heavy.

This is home. With Nicole asleep down the hall, Nico still playing video games. Niki and Nik asleep upstairs.

She pulls away from him and then turns on her side.

“Turn over.” She mutters. Max looks at her for a second wondering why. She lays her hand over his shoulder as if she wants to push him onto his chest and then slowly rolls on his side before she moves closer to him, her arm lightly over his waist and then he can feel her pressing her face into the back of his neck. She’s doing this because she felt him flinch earlier when they were outside. Because she knows that if he ends up holding her it will only cause him more pain.

It takes a while for Max to feel like he can close his eyes and fall asleep until he hears light footsteps coming down the hall and then heard the door of the master bedroom creak open. He opens one eye to see Nicole in her pink pajamas with her little grey cat spilling over her little arms.

“Papa?” She asks standing by his side of the bed. He already knows what she’s going to ask and pulls the sheets back for her to climb into their bed. He does his best to pick her up as their bed is quiet high off the gowned and tucks her into their sheets.

She curls up at his side and places her head against his arm. He lets a breath out as he does his best to hold his girls. He closes his eyes one more time and tries to let sleep take him.

The day before 24 Hours of Le Mans June 13th, 2031

Max had just gotten off the phone with Lully, he was already in France for the race. He sounded excited for tomorrow when there was the ring of the doorbell.

“Hey Chris, give me a second.” He said into the phone. He opened the door for the mail guy to be holding a large box and looked to read who the return address was from;

Harry Winston 29 Av. Montaigne, 75008, Paris France

He realized what was in the box. His apology gift to Y/N.

“Thanks.” He said to mail guy and signed for the package.

He brought the box into the house and then went up to the second floor to put it into the master closet. He would give it to her after she was done with work.

The kids were with his Mum for the weekend.

“I’m back.” He said into the phone.

“Yeah mate, the track looks great.” Chris said. “Still sucks that you won’t be able to race with us this weekend.”

“Less pressure for you and Therry,” He sighed with a half-smile. “There is always next year, and it lets me know how competitive we are right now.”

“You make a good point,” Chris paused. “I’m being called over by the one of the engineers, I got to go Max.”

“Of course Chris,” Max moved to walk into the backyard. “Have a good race. I’ll be watching tomorrow.”

“Sure, talk to you later mate.”

“Bye.” Max pulled the phone away from his ear and let out a deep sigh.

He wanted to be in France but his last appointment with his doctor was this morning and he found out that everything was going well and his injuries were almost fully healed, another week and he could go back to a normal routine again.

The doctor had mentioned that his recover time was taking a little longer then it should but Max wasn’t having issues leaning down and had stopped flinching from pain a little over two weeks ago.

He should be fully cleared to race just in time for 6 Hours of São Paulo in a month.

Max looked down at his watch and saw that he needed to still order dinner. Even after all of these years living in a house with children he was still horrible in the kitchen and didn’t want to put Y/N through one of his cooking disasters.

He opened up his phone and called a restaurant in the city that he knew would be willing to deliver to the house before walking back downstairs to set the table and pull out a bottle of wine for them to drink. He still preferred a gin and tonic or a beer but he was willing to drink a glass of wine every once in a while.

He had gone to the master bathroom afterwards, took a quick shower and trimmed his beard that he had forgone taking care of after his accident. He cut it short enough that it was a little longer then his usual 2 day stubble and then left if before reaching for a barely used bottle of Bulgari cologne.

Max was just about to step out of the bathroom when the door opened to Y/N pulling her hair out of an updo, she was out of her at home sweats in a thin silk robe.

“I was going to offer to join you,” She said with a small wicked smile.

“Not fast enough,” He replied. “I have to let the delivery guy in.”

He moved to take a sidestep so she could enter the bathroom.

“I’ll meet you down there,” She hollered as he left her standing there. Max moved into their closet, quickly peaked into the drawer where his t-shirts were to see the unpackaged Harry Winston box still in place.

He took out a small knife that he had been gifted the father’s day before last and cut open the outer white box before revealing a navy blue velvet box. He slipped it back into the drawer, left the white box by the stairs to take with him when he went back downstairs and then put on a pair of loose casual pants and a thin knit sweater.

He put his feet into a pair of slippers and then took the box with him as he felt his phone vibrate in the pocket of his pants. He pulled it out to see the familiar Belgian area code and picked it up.

He heard the voice of the delivery driver telling him that he would meet him at the gate to collect the food. Grabbing his keys after placing the phone down, Max moved to throw the box into the recycling bin. He opened the side door to the food delivery driver and paid him before walking back into the house with his food order in tow.

He made the short trek past the garage laying out the food on the table between the pool and paddle court. Y/N came down to join him a few minuets later in a short red summer dress, short black heels. In her right hand, she carried the bottle of wine her husband mistakenly left in the kitchen. The stems of two wine glasses dangled downward in between the fingers of other hand.

They sat through their dinner eating, drinking with a comfortable casual small talk throughout the night. Their plates were clear and half the bottle of wine gone when he pulled her from her chair and into his arms so they could dance.

The night had grown dark a while ago, the outdoor lights by the pool illuminating their every step.

“You know, sometimes I forget that you can dance.” She said to him.

He stepped away to turn her and then felt her hand on his shoulder again. “Only sometimes?” He asked. She nodded back at him.

“When was the last time we dance?” He lifted his head as he looked into her eyes.

“The last FIA gala we went to. We definitely only stayed long enough to eat, and for you to accept your award before we went back to the hotel.” She answered.

“I kind of miss it.” He said. He saw her eyebrows go up a little. “Not for what you think. It was nice to go and see you dressed up, and we were on a little vacation without the kids.”

“Well, I can dress up for you anytime. Just ask,” Max let his hands drop a little lower on her waist. “But we both know that a weekend away is hardly a vacation.”

“When was the last time that we went on a vacation with just us?”

“Maybe after Nik was born?” Her voice sounded unsure. “It’s why we went back to Greece after Nicole was born. I remember that much.”

Max’s face twisted in discontent, “That means we haven’t been on a vacation since then.”

“We do have four kids. Can’t exactly drop them off and go gallivant across the world.”

“If we didn’t love them so much we probably would.”

“We would because I would go anywhere with you,” She said and lightly pecked him on the lips. He leans down a little to kiss the crown of her head as pulls her into his chest. He can’t help but let out a heavy breath.

“I… I got you something,” He says and then clears his throat. “It’s upstairs.”

She pulls away a little to look at him. They manage to clear off the table and lock the door to the backyard so the cats don’t get out before he takes her hand leading her upstairs to their closet. He blocks her from seeing the box once their inside of the closet.

“Close your eyes,” He whispers into her ear. He helps her so she’s standing in front of the full length mirror before reaching to unclasp the box, then the necklace and then places it on her neck. The white gold is cold against his fingertips as he tried to do up the clasp and let the heavy necklace sit on her neck. It looks better on her then he could imagine.

“You can open your eyes.” He says as he stands behind her.

She opens her eyes and he can see that they drop down to her neck.

“You got me a similar pair of earrings for Christmas.” She says a little in awe.

He can only nod. The earrings he had bought when he was looking at a birthday gift for her last year. He had always intended to buy her the matching necklace later. He had no desire or intention to let her in on the secret that what she was wearing around her neck was twice the amount he ended up paying for her engagement ring. The sapphire that sat in the middle of the diamond necklace adorned her neck.

“This is my apology gift to you,” He says. “I know that dealing with me since my accident hasn’t been easy and I-”

“Max you don’t have to apologize for me taking care of you,” She says and then drops her hand to the necklace. “And you don’t need to buy me gifts to make up for it.”

She turns around to look up at him and drops her hand from her neck, “I know that I don’t need to but I want to. You have been dealing with me being stubborn about the team and racing.”

He needs to her know how much he appreciates everything that she’s done for him. He feels her slip their hands together and intwine their fingers.

She says as she locks into his eyes, "This is what I signed up for, in sickness and in health remember. That means when your being stubborn and don’t want to listen to me or Rupert.”

He can only lightly chuckle.

“Now take this off me.” She says slightly waving at the clasp. “You are going to return it.”

“No. I’m not.” He says with a smile. She has never turned down an expensive gift that he’s given her and he’s not going to let her start now. She only glares at him before turning to the mirror so he can take it off her. 

“You are going to wear it,” He insists. “You’re mine, it’s only right that I get to spoil you every now and then.”

He sees her roll her eyes in the mirror. He carefully undoes the necklace before placing it back in the box.

He closes the lid and then steps closer to her leaning his head down so their lips can collide for a few moments with her hands moving into his hair.

“Come on, we should go the bed.” She says pulling away breathlessly. Max places down at his watch.

“It’s only 10:30,” He says.

“Yes, but aren’t you going to stay up to watch the race tomorrow?” She asks.

He can only nod. He did plan to try to stay up for the full 24 hours to support Chris, Harry, and Therry. 

“Well we should both get some shut eye then. Race does start at 3.”

He can only give her a quizzical look. She seems to be aware of what time the race starts and knows that he intends to stay awake for all of it. It only takes a moment for him to realize why.

“You were planning on going with me,” He starts to say. “If I had gone this year, you would have also gone.”

“And I plan to go when you race next year. I’m not just going to sit at home.” It’s all she has to say before she steps a little closer to him, putting her arms around his neck brushing over the short hairs at the back of his neck.

“I love you,” He mutters.

“I know.” She says smiling at him.

He pulls her with him into their room, undressing and then climbing under their sheets. He draws her into him enjoying the feeling of her laying her head down on his chest without the pain of the extra pressure from his ribs.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @brekkers-whore, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127, @mysticalnightenthusiast, @green-thots, @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp, @ellelabelle, @lilypat, @dreamercrowd

[verstappenverse]

All Over You

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Touch has always been your love language, until one overheard conversation makes you question everything. When you start to pull away Max realises just how deeply he’s come to need it.

2.7k words / Masterlist

Max always says you’re like a blanket come to life.

You cling. You cuddle. You drape yourself across him the second the opportunity arises. If Max’s lap is free you claim it without hesitation. If he’s stretched out on the couch, you’re pressed against his side before he even blinks. Your hand finds his thigh during dinner, your fingers sneak into his back pocket when you’re walking together, and every morning, like clockwork, your nose tucks into the curve of his neck.

It’s not something you think about, it’s instinct. It’s how you express the things you sometimes struggle to say. How you offer comfort. How you say I love you.

And for the longest time Max never says a word about it.

He lets you curl up beside him during movie nights. He leans into your touch when you rub lazy circles into the back of his neck while he’s gaming, or when you lace your fingers with his under the table at dinner.

So you think, this is us. You think, this works.

Until one night, when you overhear something you weren’t supposed to.

It’s nothing serious. At least, not really.

You’re padding back from the kitchen with a cup of tea, bare feet muffled by carpet when you hear Max talking on the phone on the balcony. His voice is low, casual. He’s talking to Daniel you think. Laughing at something.

And then you catch it.

“Yeah, you noticed huh? No she’s super touchy, always has been. Like, always on me.”

A beat.

“No, I don’t mind it. It’s just... I’m not really used to it, you know?”

You freeze, feet still against the carpet. The tea sloshes slightly, forgotten in your hands.

He laughs again, easy and relaxed. “She’s like a human magnet. If I’m sitting, she’s sitting on me. I swear sometimes I think she’d climb into my skin if she could.”

Daniel says something you can’t hear. Max chuckles. “No, she’s not annoying. She’s just... really affectionate.”

You don’t stay to hear the rest.

Your fingers tighten around your mug as you quietly retreat, heart a little heavier than before. You curl back into bed without saying a word, staring at the ceiling while your tea goes cold on the nightstand.

You’re not angry. He didn’t say anything cruel. Not really.

But for the first time questions being to lodge in your chest like a thorn... do I touch him too much? Does he just tolerate it because he loves me?

And just like that, something in you begins to shift.

You're still beside him. Still laughing at his jokes, still making him breakfast. You kiss him good morning and smile across the table. From the outside nothing changes, but the little things in all the tiny invisible places, the things that used to come so naturally they stop.

You don’t climb into his lap while he’s watching race replays, don’t tuck your face into the slope of his shoulder like you used to. You don’t slide your hand beneath the hem of his hoodie when you hug him from behind in the kitchen, fingers sneaking against warm skin. You don’t curl into his side when the movie starts, don’t tuck yourself under his arm like you belong there.

Instead you sit beside him on the couch with your legs tucked neatly under you, wrapped up tightly in a blanket like armour. A careful distance. A subtle retreat.

You keep your hands in your lap at dinner. You nod and listen and smile, but your fingers don’t find his thigh. You don’t reach for his hand beneath the table.

You still want to. God, do you want to.

Your whole body aches to reach for him, to run your fingers over his jaw, to smooth back his hair, to trace lazy shapes across his stomach. You miss the warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

You miss being held without thinking twice, but now that you’ve heard him say it out loud, that he’s not used to it, that he’s not like you, you can’t unhear it. It loops in your mind when the silence stretches between you.

Slowly you start to convince yourself you’ve been suffocating him. That maybe the way you love is too much for him. That maybe softness, when it clings like yours does, feels like smothering.

So you pull back, quietly, carefully, and hope he doesn’t notice how much it hurts. Or worse that he does, and lets you do it anyway.

Max doesn’t say anything at first, but after a few days he starts to notice.

A few inches of space on the couch. Your hand not finding his like it usually does. The way you don't crawl into his lap during breakfast, don't lean into his side during movies, don't rest your hand on his leg during long car rides.

At first he tells himself maybe you’re tired from work. Maybe it’s just one of those quiet moods that passes like the weather. He gives you space, the way people are always saying partners should.

But the distance doesn’t fade.

It expands.

One morning he slips behind you in the kitchen to steal a piece of toast. Normally you’d laugh, you’d wrap your arms around his waist and bury your nose in his hoodie, but this time you step aside without touching him.

He frowns, just a quick flicker, then hides it, but his stomach twists violently anyway.

It’s not like Max to spiral. He’s not wired for emotional uncertainty he prefers problems he can fix with strategy, planning, control.

But this?

This isn’t a problem he knows how to solve.

The way you sit on the far end of the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone like it’s more comforting than him. You barely brush his arm when you slip into bed at night. When he tries to kiss your neck absentmindedly like he always does you duck away, not unkindly, but enough to make him panic

He tries not to panic, but that’s what this feels like panic.

It gnaws at him over the next couple days. The silence between your fingers and his. The distance that didn’t use to be there. The way you won’t look at him for too long, like he might read too much in your eyes.

Max isn’t good with emotional guessing games. He’s never been the type to bottle things up or pretend everything’s fine when it isn’t. He doesn’t do insecure. He confronts things. Fixes things. Puts it all on the table and makes it make sense.

And Max doesn’t know how to read silence the way he reads telemetry. He doesn’t know how to fix something when he doesn’t know where the break is.

He replays your interactions hunting for the mistake. Did he forget something important? Miss a signal? Are you sick or bored?

Is she pulling away because she’s planning to leave?

The thought stops him in his tracks. His chest aches with it, sharp and sudden. He sits with it, stunned, rubs at his sternum like he can soothe the ache.

You’re still sweet. Still say good luck before he gets into the car. Still text him updates about your day, what podcast you listened to, what ridiculous thing your coworker said. Still fold his shirts when he leaves them in a pile at the foot of the bed. Still laugh at the stupid jokes he makes when he’s overtired. You're still there.

But it’s different. Your body has gone quiet, your touch has gone still. Less warm. Less you.

And Max, who never thought he’d crave something so soft, so intangible starts to feel the absence like a phantom limb, it feels like someone turned off the sun and expects him not to notice. And it terrifies him because he doesn’t know what he did to lose it, or how to ask for it back.

You can feel the ache in your chest growing stronger every day.

You don’t want to stop touching him. You miss touching him. You miss his warmth, the way he instinctively leans into your touch even when he’s focused on something. You miss curling into his lap without thinking, his fingers combing through your hair like it’s second nature.

But now? Every time your hand so much as twitches toward him, doubt rushes in like cold water.

Am I smothering him again? Is this too much? Is this what he meant?

You thought you were just adjusting. Giving him the space you assume he needs. You told yourself it was mature, respectful, kind, but it’s starting to feel less like an adjustment and more like a punishment.

Every second you don’t touch him? It hurts. In tiny, deceptive ways like a thousand paper cuts.

By the end of the next week, you’re sitting on the hotel bed in Jeddah, scrolling through your phone in silence, without reading a word, wrapped in one of his hoodies that still smells like his aftershave. Max pauses when he sees how far you’re sitting from the edge of the mattress. From him.

That’s when he finally speaks.

“Did I do something?”

You blink. “What?”

“You’ve been...” He trails off, eyes searching yours. “Distant.”

You hesitate. “No, I’m just tired.”

He studies your face for a long moment hoping you’ll offer somthing more, but when nothing comes he doesn’t push. Just nods slowly, then climbs into bed beside you.

You don’t cuddle him that night.

You face the other way, pretending to scroll while your chest feels like it’s being wrung out.

Max doesn’t say anything, but you feel the shift, the slight dip of the mattress, the warmth of his body inching closer in the dark, not quite touching. He stops just shy of you, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to, like he’s hoping you’ll turn around and meet him there.

It takes until Sunday night, after the race for everything to crack open.

You’re both back at the hotel. Max steps out of the shower, hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, sweatpants slung low on his hips. You’re perched on the window seat, knees pulled to your chest, phone resting forgotten in your lap as you stare out over Jeddah’s lights.

You think maybe you’ll just go to sleep early. Then Max sits beside you.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just sits close enough to feel the heat off your arm. He’s never been good at this part, the vulnerable bit. The what if it’s in my head bit. The what if I’m asking for something she doesn’t want to give me anymore bit.

The part where he has to name the thing that’s been gnawing at him for weeks. The part where he has to admit he's scared he’s already lost something and just hasn’t caught up to it yet.

He’s spent enough time memorising the way you speak when you're lying. You don’t flinch or fumble. You just get quieter. Softer. Like you’re afraid the truth will hurt more than the silence.

But he needs the truth now, because he’s been tying himself in knots trying to figure it out. Replaying conversations in his head, wondering if he forgot someone’s birthday or crossed a line or said something he shouldn’t have.

And now all he wants is to be close. To be touched. Held. Seen.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, voice low, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

“Yeah…” you say, trailing off.

And then, when you don’t say anything else, something in your eyes flickers and he just knows.

Max’s heart kicks hard in his chest, the kind of lurch he only gets right before lights out. He swallows, throat dry, like he’s one bad move away from losing something he doesn’t know how to live without.

“I miss you,” he says, voice quiet. “Even when you’re right here.”

You close your eyes. Then you look at him, really look, and something in you gives. Like you’ve been carrying a weight for days and it’s finally too much to hold, too much to hide.

“I heard you,” you say.

His brow furrows. “Heard me?”

“On the phone,” you clarify. “With Daniel. A couple of weeks ago”

Max’s pauses for a second, trying to remember, and then his stomach drops.

“You heard that?”

You nod slowly, eyes still on the window. “You said I’m always on you. That I’m really touchy. That you’re not used to it.”

His expression shifts, jaw tight, eyes suddenly filled with something that looks a lot like guilt.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I wasn’t trying to. But after that...” You pull your sleeves over your hands, voice quieter now. “I started wondering if I’d been overwhelming you. If I was too much—”

“Wait, baby—”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, force you into something you don’t want.” you rush on. “So I’ve been trying to give you space. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Max’s heart actually hurts.

He didn’t even realise how it might’ve sounded. He remembers the conversation now, half-distracted, casual, him laughing while Daniel joked about your human magnet tendencies. It hadn’t meant anything to him, just a passing comment… but it had meant everything to you.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for your hand. “Look at me.”

You look up. Max’s brows are drawn together. He looks devastated.

“I swear I never meant that in a bad way,” he says. “I wasn’t complaining. I was just… explaining it. I’ve never been with someone as affectionate as you, it caught me off guard at first sure. But I love it. I love the way you love me.”

A beat. His voice softens.

“When you stopped reaching for me, I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been going crazy wondering why it felt like you were slipping away.”

You bite your lip, blinking quickly. “I thought I was just annoying you, that you were putting up with it because you love me, not because you wanted it.”

His forehead drops to yours, hands sliding to your waist, holding tight. “No. God, no. Baby, it’s the best part of my day. You crawling into my lap, always reaching for me. It makes me feel wanted... like I matter, like I make you feel safe.”

He leans back just slightly, fingers sliding to your jaw, cradling it gently.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “If I made you feel like you were too much. If I made you doubt what we have. That was never what I meant. I hate that I hurt you. I hate that you thought you had to pull away from me just to make me comfortable.”

Your lips part slightly, like you're shocked by the weight of his words.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he admits. “Watching you pull away, thinking maybe I’d done something. I was scared I lost you and didn’t even know when it happened.”

“I wasn’t,” you whisper. “I swear I wasn’t pulling away from you… at least not like that, I just thought I was doing the right thing.”

“I know that now,” he says. “But please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop”

Your arms are around him before he finishes the sentence.

He exhales into your neck, like he’s been holding his breath for days. Pulls you into his lap like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again. His hands spread across your back, and for the first time in a while something in him settles.

You crawl further into his lap like it’s where you belong. Arms around his neck. Fingers threading into his hair. He exhales like someone finally handed him back something precious.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your skin.

“I’m right here.”

He pulls back, eyes soft. “Don’t stop being you, okay? Promise me.”

You nod. “Promise.”

Later, curled up in bed, you trace lazy lines across his chest with your fingertips.

“You really don’t mind?” you ask sleepily.

“Mind?” he echoes, mouth brushing your forehead. “I crave you.”

You smile into his skin, small and shy.

He kisses your hair again. “You ruined me.”

“Good,” you murmur, already drifting.

You’re here. Wrapped around him, where you belong.

And Max? Max feels like he can finally breathe again.

[empyrealix]

⊹ ࣪˖ CALLING CHARLES FRENCH

warnings. mentions of killing (as a joke); french

note. hi hi, this is my first f1 fic, i hope u like it 🫶🏻

[soma-fra]

Lando doesn’t deserve the hate he gets 😔

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey, I saw you done the reader speaks French but I was wondering if you could one with italian or something similar. My family on my mother's side is italian and I'm learning it again and I'm sometimes embarrassed by my lack of knowledge (spanish was easier for me) if this makes sense. If not that's okay, I love your writing.

Italian Lessons

Summary: You're trying to learn Italian again and what a better way to learn than to get your best friend's best friend to teach you.

Song: Earned It · The Weeknd

Author’s note: You are so relatable! I was born in Italy but as soon as I left, my Italian left with it 😭 I've been trying to learn it but I can't so I wish you the best! I wrote so much but Tumblr didn't let me fit it all so I had to shorten it! Unfortunately due to my exams being in less than a month, I won't post much. 😭 Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 34.3k

MASTERLIST - F1

The scent of old leather and motor oil clung to Ollie’s car like a second skin, a familiar aroma that always grounded you. He swerved expertly through the London traffic, one hand drumming a rhythm on the steering wheel as a Formula 1 podcast droned from the speakers. He was talking, something about tire compounds and aerodynamic drag, but your mind was elsewhere, tangled in a knot of guilt and embarrassment.

"Earth to you! You’ve gone all quiet," Ollie chuckled, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes. "Thinking about your impending Italian lesson?"

You sighed, leaning your head against the headrest. "Don't remind me. It's just… pathetic, isn't it? My own mother's language, and I can barely order a pizza."

Ollie, ever the comforting presence, reached over and squeezed your hand. "Hey, none of that nonsense. You're busy, you're successful, and you're finally doing something about it. That's all that matters. Besides," he added with a wink, "you know I think you're amazing, even if you only speak fluent English and sarcasm."

You managed a weak smile. Ollie always had a way of making you feel better. Years of friendship, countless late-night talks, and a shared history that stretched back to awkward teenage years had forged a bond unbreakable. He was family, the kind you chose, not just the kind you were born into. It was ironic, really, that he, an Englishman obsessed with speed and engines, knew more Italian phrases than you, the daughter of an Italian immigrant.

"It's just… Kimi," you muttered, the name feeling foreign on your tongue. Ollie’s best friend. An enigma wrapped in a charmingly gruff exterior.

"Kimi will be great!" Ollie declared, his voice radiating genuine enthusiasm. "He's a good guy, just a bit… quiet at first. But trust me, he's got a heart of gold hidden under that stoic exterior. And," he added with a knowing smirk, "he's fiercely proud of his heritage. He'll be thrilled you're making the effort."

You doubted that. You envisioned awkward silences, stumbling over conjugations, and Kimi's thinly veiled disappointment at your linguistic ineptitude. "What if I'm hopeless? What if I just embarrass myself?"

"You won't," Ollie said firmly. "And even if you do, so what? It's a learning process. Besides, Kimi's not judgmental. He's too busy being effortlessly cool to judge anyone."

You couldn't argue with that. Kimi did have an air of indifference that seemed to protect him from the world's criticisms. You'd always found it intriguing, that and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he did smile, which was a rare occurrence indeed.

Finally, the GPS announced, "You have arrived at your destination." You two pulled up to the paddock, a bustling hive of activity where Formula 1 cars were being meticulously prepped for the next race.

Ollie parked his sleek sports car with a flourish, the engine purring. You followed Ollie through the maze of garages.

In the Haas garage, the mechanics were a blur of movement as they worked tirelessly on the gleaming Formula 1 car. Ollie waved at them, calling out greetings in a mix of English and Italian that rolled off his tongue like a native.

He led you further into the garage, where the team was a blur of motion, focused intently on the gleaming Haas car. The sheer dedication and attention to detail were breathtaking.

"Right, let's get you acquainted with the place," Ollie said, clapping his hands together. “I’ll introduce you to Kimi after the race.”

“Kimi?” you asked, feeling a flicker of anticipation. This was it. The man who was going to help you reclaim your heritage. “So, he actually agreed to this?”

"Yep. He owes me a favor. Plus, he’s always up for a bit of a laugh."

You nodded, trying to absorb all the information. "Got it. And thank you, by the way. For all of this."

"Don't mention it," Ollie said, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he reached for his race suit. "It's the least I can do. I've always thought it was a shame you never learned Italian. Especially with your mom being so… expressive.”

That stung. He was right. It was a shame. And it was embarrassing. Your best friend, the one who’d grown up miles away from any Italian influence, knew more about your mother’s language than you did.

"Yeah, well," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Life happens."

"It does," Ollie agreed, his tone softening. He pulled the race suit on halfway, leaving the top part unzipped. "But it’s never too late to learn. Kimi's a great guy, and he's surprisingly patient. Just… try not to be intimidated by the accent. It can be a bit thick."

"Look, I gotta go brief with the team," Ollie said, his attention already shifting to the race ahead. "Just… enjoy the show. And try not to get run over."

With a final pat on the shoulder, he was gone, swallowed up by the organized chaos of the Haas garage. You were left standing there, feeling a strange mix of excitement, apprehension, and inadequacy. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The scent of gasoline and burnt rubber permeated the air as you meandered through the bustling F1 paddock, your eyes scanning the horizon of gleaming cars and tightly wound tension that only a Formula One race could muster. Your phone chirped with Duolingo's cheery encouragement, a stark contrast to the thunderous symphony of engines revving in the distance.

"Mi dispiace, non capisco," you murmured, feeling a twinge of pride as the app congratulated you with a cheerful "Ding!"

Before you could bask in the glow of your linguistic victory, a velvet voice caressed your ear, "It's actually 'mi dispiace, non capisco.'"

You whipped around, heart racing faster than the cars on the track, to find Kimi, Ollie's dashing Italian best friend, standing just an arm's length away.

"Thanks," you replied, trying to compose yourself, as your cheeks flushed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun beating down on the tarmac.

"I'm just trying to brush up on my Italian, you know, for when I get to Imola."

He grinned, his eyes dancing with a mischief that promised untold adventures. "Well, you're in luck," he said, his accent a siren's song that could make any language sound erotic. "I happen to be a native speaker."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound a little too high-pitched for your liking. "Yeah, I kind of figured that out," you replied, trying to match his cool demeanor.

"Well, then," Kimi said, his smile widening, "having a teacher will definitely help you a lot."

It was ironic, indeed, seeing as Kimi was the person Ollie had suggested to help you with your Italian.

The same Kimi who had a reputation for leaving hearts fluttering in his wake, the one who spoke Italian as if it were poetry caressed by the gods themselves. You felt a peculiar mix of excitement and nervousness at the thought of learning from him. His eyes, a deep brown that reminded you of freshly roasted espresso, bore into yours, and you couldn't help but wonder if he knew the effect he had on you.

Before you could respond, a sharp, authoritative voice blared over the loudspeakers, "All the drivers go to their pits."

Kimi's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eyes darkening with what could only be described as a predatory interest. "See you later, bella donna," he winked, his words a seductive promise before disappearing into the maelstrom of the racing world.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him go, his lithe figure weaving through the chaos with an ease that could only come from years of navigating the fast lane.

The term of endearment hung in the air, a sweet whisper that seemed to caress your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. You spent the qualifying session in the Haas garage with Ollie, nervously watching the timings and trying to decipher the technical jargon being thrown around.

During the race, you were a nervous wreck. You cheered for Ollie, of course, your loyalty unwavering. But your eyes kept darting to the silver Mercedes on the track, following Kimi's every move. The roar of the engines, the squeal of tires, the frantic pace of the race – it all faded into the background. All you could think about was the way he had looked at you, the sound of his voice, the playful glint in his eyes.

Ollie finished a respectable 5th, a solid result for Haas. Kimi, however, finished 4th, just shy of the podium. When the race ended, you waited impatiently for Ollie to finish his debriefing with the team, your leg bouncing with nervous energy.

Finally, Ollie emerged, grinning. "Not bad, eh?" he said, clapping you on the shoulder.

You managed a weak smile, your heart thumping. "Congratulations, Ollie," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ollie's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Ready to meet the Italian Stallion?" he teased, using his thumb and forefinger to mimic a mustache.

Your stomach somersaulted at the mention of Kimi's name. You nodded, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."

As you followed Ollie through the bustling paddock, your thoughts raced. What would you say to Kimi? How would he react to seeing you again? The moment of truth came as you rounded the corner and spotted Kimi, surrounded by a group of team members and journalists.

A slow smile spread across his face, and for a moment, it was as if you were the only two people in the world. You felt a rush of heat, a shiver down your spine as he excused himself from his entourage and approached you, his strides purposeful and confident.

"Hey Kimi! Great race!" Ollie exclaimed, his arms open wide for a hug. Kimi embraced him warmly, their friendship palpable, and for a brief, painfully sweet second, you felt like a third wheel in your own fantasy.

But then, as if sensing your presence, Kimi pulled back and looked over Ollie's shoulder at you, the smile never leaving his face. "Thank you, Ollie," he said, his voice a velvety rumble that seemed to resonate through your body.

"Oh, this is…" Ollie started, turning to introduce you.

"Y/N," Kimi finished, grinning mischievously, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look. He extended a hand, and as you took it, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you, setting your pulse racing even more.

"So, you're the one," he said, his accent thick and alluring. "The one who's going to learn Italian from me?" His smile grew wider, and you felt your cheeks flush under his gaze.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to sound casual despite the thunderous beating of your heart. "I've always wanted to, and Ollie said you're the best teacher around."

Ollie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Wait, you two know each other?" he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between you and Kimi.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. "Well, we met briefly before the race," you began, your voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside you. "I was practicing my Italian, and Kimi couldn't help but offer a few corrections as he passed by."

Kimi chuckled, a rich, deep sound that made your insides quiver. "Your accent," he said, his eyes sparkling, "it is… unique." The way he drew out the word 'unique' made it sound like an endearment, a secret shared between the two of you.

"I know it's not perfect," you admitted, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, "but I'm eager to learn."

Kimi leaned closer, his gaze intense. "I can tell," he murmured, his voice a purr. "And I'm more than happy to help. Italian is a beautiful language, full of passion. It's something you must feel, not just speak."

Your eyes locked onto his. The way his full lips moved as he spoke made your own mouth go dry. You swallowed hard.

"When can we start?" you asked, your voice a breathy whisper.

Kimi's eyes held yours, the intensity in them making your knees weak. "As soon as you're ready," he replied, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. "But remember, I don't just teach Italian. I make you experience it."

Ollie looked back and forth between you two, the light of understanding dawning in his eyes. He winked at you and clapped Kimi on the back. "Well, I've got some celebrating to do," he said, backing away. "I'll leave you to it."

As he disappeared into the throng of people, you were left standing there, alone with the man who had occupied your thoughts all day. Your heart hammered in your chest as he took a step closer, his hand still resting on yours. "Come," he said, "we'll find a quieter place."

You were acutely aware of every movement he made – the way his fingers tightened around yours, the way his eyes searched your face, the way his chest rose and fell with every breath. You found yourselves in a secluded spot, a small area behind one of the hospitality tents.

"So, what's your schedule like?" Kimi asked, his eyes never leaving yours. His voice was low, the vibrations resonating through your entire body.

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on his question through the fog of desire that had enveloped you. "It's pretty open," you replied, your voice shaky. "I can work around yours."

"Good," he murmured, stepping even closer. You could feel the heat emanating from his body, the electricity between you growing stronger by the second. "Because I want to make sure we have plenty of time… to practice."

"I hope I'm not a bother," you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Kimi's smile grew, and his thumb stroked the inside of your wrist, sending shivers up your arm.

"Never, bella donna," he replied. "But do you have a boyfriend?"

You felt a thrill at the question. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, as if looking for the truth within. "Good," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before returning to your eyes.

"Why?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

He took a moment to answer, his thumb still tracing patterns on the sensitive skin of your wrist. "Uh, nothing," he replied, his voice low and gruff. "I wouldn't want to worry him if you're with me all the time."

The answer didn't quite satisfy you, but the way he said it made your stomach flip.

"So, how do you want this to go?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi leaned in closer. "I was thinking," he said, his eyes dancing with a hint of mischief, "if I want you to truly experience this, we have to go on little adventures."

You blinked, surprised. "Like… dates?" The word slipped out before you could stop it, a nervous giggle following close behind.

He nodded, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Si, like dates," he confirmed, his thumb now caressing your palm in a gentle, mesmerizing rhythm. "But not just any dates, bella. These will be… educational experiences. We will learn Italian, but we will also learn about passion, about feeling, about life."

Your heart skipped a beat. This was not what you had expected when you offered to help him practice English, but you found yourself nodding eagerly. "Okay," you breathed, your voice thick with desire.

Kimi stepped back, releasing your hand with a teasing smile. "Good," he said, his eyes lingering on your now-bare wrist, where his touch had left a trail of heat.

"But first," you managed to get out, your voice sounding more composed than you felt, "can I have your number?"

Kimi's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Sure," he said, pulling out his phone. His fingers danced over the screen with a practiced ease that spoke of years of handling high-speed machinery.

He rattled off a string of digits, and you typed them into your phone, your own hands trembling slightly. You felt a strange sense of excitement, as if you had just received the winning lottery numbers.

"Got it," you said, trying to sound casual despite the racing of your heart.

Before Kimi could respond, a Mercedes staff member, dressed in the sleek, silver team gear, approached with an urgent look on his face. "Kimi," he called out, "we need you for the victory celebration."

Kimi turned to the staff member, his eyes briefly leaving yours. "Arrivederci bella donna," he said to you, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

The paddock was a whirlwind of activity, team members hugging and congratulating each other, the sound of champagne corks popping in the background. You felt a pang of disappointment at being separated from him so soon, but also a thrill at the prospect of what was to come. As you made your way back to the Haas garage, you couldn't help but replay the moment in your mind. His touch, his voice, the way he looked at you – it was all so intoxicating.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibration of your phone. You looked down to see a text from an unknown number. "Looking forward to our first lesson," it read, with a winking emoji. You felt a warmth spread through your body, realizing it was from Kimi.

When you returned to the Haas garage, Ollie was busy signing autographs for a group of eager fans. His face lit up when he saw you, and he excused himself to come over.

"So, how was it?" he asked, curiosity etched across his features.

You couldn't help but smile at Ollie's question, your cheeks flushing as you recounted your encounter with Kimi. "It was…" you paused, searching for the right words, "intense."

Ollie raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Intense, huh? Did he give you a taste of that Italian charm?"

You nodded, still lost in the memory of Kimi's touch. "More than just a taste," you replied, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Ollie chuckled, his eyes gleaming. "Looks like you're going to be busy," he said, giving you a knowing look. "Just don't let your schoolgirl crush get in the way of my friendship with him."

You rolled your eyes, feigning annoyance, but inside, you felt a thrill at his words. It was clear that he had noticed the chemistry between you and Kimi, and it was equally clear that he approved.

"Don't worry," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice. "It's just a language exchange."

Ollie nodded, but his knowing smile said he wasn't fooled. "Uh-huh," he said, winking. "Just make sure to keep me updated on your… progress."

You rolled your eyes again, but couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. "Don't worry, I will," you teased back. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The dreary Monday afternoon hangs heavy around you, the grey light filtering through your window mirroring the dull ache in your shoulders. You’ve been staring at the same spreadsheet for hours, the numbers blurring into an indistinguishable mess. The silence is a thick blanket, stifling and uneventful. Then, the vibration.

Your phone, lying face-up on the desk, jumps, the sudden movement shattering the monotonous quiet like a sonnet erupting in the middle of a slumber party. You glance down, your eyes widening slightly at the name glowing in the dim light: Kimi.

The message reads: "Hello bella donna, are you free tomorrow?"

You take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to quell the sudden heat that’s rising in your cheeks. You type: "Sure, what are you planning?" You need to know, need to understand the intention behind this sudden, charming overture.

Kimi’s response is swift, almost instantaneous. "How about a little dinner in my favourite restaurant in Italian? I promise to make it fun and interactive."

The playful wink emoji that follows does nothing to dispel the heat that has begun to spread through your body, a delicious blend of excitement and apprehension. You haven’t seen Kimi in a few weeks, not since that awkward bumping into each other at the coffee shop.

You’ve replayed that encounter in your head countless times, analyzing the subtle nuances of his smile, the lingering touch of his hand as he’d helped you gather your scattered belongings. You force yourself to take another deep breath. This is just dinner. It doesn’t have to mean anything. But a small, traitorous part of you hopes it does.

"Sounds perfect," you text back, forcing your voice, even in text, to remain steady. You fail. The rapid pulse that has started to thrum in your neck betrays you.

He replies almost immediately: "Okay bella donna, I'll pick you up from your apartment tomorrow."

The finality of the statement, the directness of the invitation, sends another shiver of anticipation down your spine. You stare at the message, your mind already racing ahead, envisioning the evening, the restaurant, his face illuminated by candlelight.

The rest of Monday crawls by in a blur. You can’t focus on your work, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Kimi and the Italian dinner. You imagine practicing basic phrases, stumbling over pronunciations, and his warm laughter filling the space between you. Tuesday arrives with an almost cruel slowness. You spend an inordinate amount of time getting ready, agonizing over every detail.

What to wear? Something casual, but elegant? Something that says, "I’m comfortable and confident," but also, "I put in effort for you." You try on three different dresses, discarding each one with a frustrated sigh.

Finally, you settle on a simple black dress that skims your curves in a flattering way. You add a delicate silver necklace and a touch of mascara, enough to highlight your eyes without looking overly done.

As you wait, your stomach churning with nerves, you pace your apartment, rehearsing Italian phrases in your head. "Buonasera," you murmur to yourself. "Come stai?" "Il conto, per favore." You feel ridiculous, like you’re preparing for a stage performance.

The buzzer rings, sending a jolt of electricity through you. It's him. You take one last deep breath, smooth down your dress, and tell yourself to relax. It’s just dinner. Just a friendly, Italian-themed dinner. You open the door, and there he is. Kimi.

He looks even more handsome than you remember. His dark hair is neatly styled, and he’s wearing a fitted, dark blue shirt that makes his eyes seem even bluer. His smile is warm and genuine, and it reaches all the way to his eyes.

"Ciao, bella donna," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends another wave of butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

"Ciao, Kimi," you reply, your voice slightly breathy.

He offers you his arm, and you take it, your fingers tingling against his skin. As you walk down the stairs, you steal glances at him, trying to decipher the look in his eyes. Is it just friendliness, or is there something more?

The restaurant he’s chosen is tucked away on a quiet side street, a hidden gem with dimly lit interiors, checkered tablecloths, and the aroma of garlic and basil hanging in the air. Soft Italian music plays in the background, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere. He pulls out your chair, and you thank him in Italian, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation of "grazie." He chuckles softly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Don’t worry," he says, switching to English. "You’ll get there. I'm here to help you practice."

The evening unfolds like a dream. You order in Italian, with Kimi patiently correcting your mistakes and encouraging you to try new phrases. He tells you about his favorite dishes, describing them with such passion that you can almost taste the flavors. You try the osso buco, and it melts in your mouth, a symphony of savory flavors.

Throughout the evening, you catch him looking at you, his eyes lingering on your face, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, a feeling that goes beyond simple attraction. It’s a feeling of connection, of understanding, of being truly seen.

As the evening progresses, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. The Italian phrases become less forced, more natural, as you relax into the moment. When the waiter brings the bill, Kimi insists on paying. You protest, but he just smiles and shakes his head.

"It’s my treat, bella donna," he says. "Besides, I promised you an interactive experience. The real fun starts now."

The real fun starts now. His words echo in your head, a promise that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. As you walk out of the restaurant, the cool night air kisses your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you feel inside.

Kimi’s hand lingers at the small of your back, a gentle guide as you navigate the cobblestone streets. You lean into his touch, your heart fluttering like a captive bird in your chest. He opens the car door with the grace of a gentleman, and you slide into the passenger seat, the leather cool against your thighs.

As he slides into the driver's seat, his eyes lock onto yours for a moment too long, sending a bolt of electricity straight to your core. He starts the engine, the purr of the vehicle blending with the soft music playing through the speakers.

As he drives you back home, the city lights stream past the windows, painting a kaleidoscope of colors across your skin. His hand rests casually on the gear stick, but your eyes are drawn to his strong, capable fingers.

You wonder what it would be like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, speaking a language more potent than Italian. The drive back to your apartment is a delicious mix of tension and comfort. His cologne fills the car, a scent that is both new and familiar. The conversation is easy, a blend of shared stories and teasing banter that you hadn’t quite anticipated.

As you approach your apartment, you feel a strange mix of disappointment and excitement. Disappointment that the night is almost over, excitement for what might happen next. The tension in the car is palpable, thick with unspoken desires.

He parks the car and walks you to your door, his stride purposeful, yet filled with a gentle hesitancy. You feel the warmth of his hand as it grazes yours, and you wonder if he feels the same electricity that's been building all evening.

The silence between you is a symphony of unspoken words, the quiet punctuated by the distant sound of a couple arguing in a nearby apartment and the occasional rustle of leaves in the night breeze. It's a comforting silence, the kind that wraps around you like a warm blanket on a cold winter's eve.

As you stand in front of your door, the anticipation of what's to come hangs in the air, as tangible as the scent of your mingled perfumes. You fumble with your keys, your heart racing like a marathon runner approaching the finish line.

Kimi's eyes never leave yours, and you can see the question in them, the silent inquiry of whether this night will extend beyond the confines of friendship. Your hand shakes slightly as you insert the key into the lock, the metal cold against your skin.

The door clicks open, and you both hover in the threshold, the warm light of your apartment spilling out onto the darkened porch. He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you.

Instead, he whispers, "Grazie per la serata," his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

You swallow hard, your eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. "It was… amazing," you manage to murmur.

Before you can say more, his hand reaches up, and he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, almost tender, and it sends a bolt of desire through you that makes your knees feel wobbly.

"The pleasure was all mine," he says, his voice a low murmur that sends shivers down your spine. "But the night doesn't have to end here."

You look up at him, the question in your eyes mirroring the one in his. The air is charged, and the silence stretches out like a tightrope, thrumming with potential.

"I had a wonderful time tonight," he says, his voice soft.

"Me too," you reply, your heart pounding in your chest.

He leans in closer, and you close your eyes, waiting for his kiss. But it doesn’t come. Instead, he whispers in your ear, "A presto, bella donna."

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing at your door, breathless and wanting.

You step inside, the contrast of the cool apartment air against your flushed skin making you shiver. The evening lingers on you, a seductive perfume that you can’t quite shake off. You walk to the bathroom, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes are bright, your cheeks flushed with more than just the cold.

Was it just the Italian, the romance of the language, or was there something more? You can’t shake the feeling that Kimi’s gaze had held a promise, a silent invitation that you hadn’t quite understood.

You decide to let it go, to enjoy the thrill of the unknown. After all, tomorrow is another day, another chance to learn, to explore, to feel. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You felt a buzz of excitement as you approached your apartment, the anticipation of what lay inside the package he had mentioned growing with each step. Once inside, you placed the package on the kitchen counter, the weight of it a tantalizing mystery.

The cardboard was a stark contrast to the sleek, black leather of the bag you had brought home with you, the letters of his name scrawled across the top in a familiar script that made your heart flutter.

You carefully sliced through the packing tape, the sound of it tearing a gentle crescendo in the otherwise quiet room. As the flaps fell open, you gasped. Before you lay a treasure trove of Mercedes merchandise, each piece more opulent than the last.

A leather-bound notebook, a pen with the company logo engraved on it, a scarf with the signature silver threads, and even a keychain with a miniature replica of the iconic car. But it was the small card nestled among the luxurious items that made your pulse race.

The card was simple, white with a single red rose embossed in the corner. You recognized Kimi's handwriting immediately, the way the letters curved and looped like a lover's embrace.

"To continue your lessons," it read, "with a touch of elegance." You couldn't help but wonder what kind of 'lessons' he had in mind, and whether they would be as exhilarating as the ones you'd experienced the night before.

Picking up the leather notebook, you opened it to find the pages filled with notes in Kimi's handwriting, each one detailing a different aspect of the Italian language.

The pages were also sprinkled with phrases that were anything but academic, reminders of the passionate moments you had shared, and a promise of more to come. You felt a warmth spread through your body, a phantom echo of his touch. You took the scarf, running the soft fabric through your fingers, feeling the gentle caress of the threads against your skin.

The keychain caught your eye, the silver glistening in the soft glow of the pendant light above the counter. It was the perfect size to attach to the diary you had bought to log your language progress.

The diary that now held secrets far more personal than conjugations and vocabulary. You couldn't wait to delve into the treasure trove of Italian delights that Kimi had so thoughtfully curated. The promise of future 'lessons' filled you with a giddy excitement that was both thrilling and a little overwhelming.

You slipped the keychain into your pocket, the cool metal a constant reminder of the passion that awaited you. You took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of leather and cologne that still lingered in the air from the package.

You sent Kimi a text, "What's the occasion?" you asked, curiosity piqued by the extravagant gift.

Kimi's response was swift and unabashed, "You look better in Mercedes than in Haas, wear this when you're coming to watch me in the Mercedes garage," accompanied by a winking emoji.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his audacity. "You're assuming I would switch from Ollie, who I've known my whole life, to you, who I've known for a week? How bold of you," you shot back.

Kimi's response was immediate. "Boldness is what makes life interesting, no?" he texted.

"It's definitely a persuasive argument," you replied, the smile on your face growing wider with every keystroke.

Kimi's response was as swift as it was seductive. "Persuasion is an art," he texted back, "but when the prize is as sweet as you, it's hardly a challenge."

You placed the notebook and keychain aside and picked up the phone, your thumbs dancing over the screen as you replied, "And what's the prize for passing these 'lessons'?"

Kimi's response was a masterclass in anticipation. "Ah, that would be telling," he teased. "I can't wait to see you in those clothes, bella donna," he replied, the Italian endearment rolling off his tongue like honey, sticky and sweet.

"I'll be sure to dress to impress, maestro," you replied, feeling a surge of playfulness in your tone.

Kimi's response was like a warm caress, his words wrapping around you like a silk scarf. "I have no doubt you'll leave me speechless, as always," he texted, his message sending a rush of heat through your veins.

You replied, "Bye for now," with a flirty wave emoji, your heart racing at the thought of seeing him again. You set the phone down and took a moment to revel in the feeling, the anticipation of what was to come a delicious ache. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The engine's roar echoed through the narrow streets of the bustling Chinese metropolis as Ollie's sleek Ferrari approached your apartment. Your heart raced in anticipation, not just for the exhilarating ride to the F1 paddock, but also for the secret thrill hidden beneath your clothes.

You had decided to wear the Mercedes merchandise today, a bold declaration of allegiance to the underdog team in a sea of Ferrari red. The tight-fitting T-shirt clung to your curves like a second skin.

"Hey Ollie," you greeted him, a playful smirk gracing your lips as you settled into the plush leather passenger seat.

Ollie looked over at you, a knowing glint in his eye. "Wow, really? You decided to switch to Mercedes that quick?" he quipped, revving the engine and pulling away from the curb. The car's vibrations thrummed through you, setting your blood pulsing in time with its powerful rhythm.

You shrugged, the fabric of the T-shirt sliding smoothly over your skin. "Just thought I'd try something different," you replied coyly, the wind from the open window teasing your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Ollie chuckled. "I heard Kimi is quite the Casanova. What's it like learning Italian from him?" His question hung in the air, ripe with innuendo.

You felt your cheeks warm. "It's… educational," you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Ollie's teasing smile grew wider. "I bet it is. Kimi's got that certain… charm, doesn't he?" He winked, his hand briefly caressing the gearstick before shifting up to third. The car leapt forward, pressing you back into the seat.

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your body releasing like the hiss of a valve. "Sure," you teased back, your voice light and airy, "but it's all very professional. We're just friends, helping each other out."

Ollie's eyes flicked towards you, a knowing look playing across his features. "Just friends, huh?" He smirked, his gaze lingering on the way the Mercedes logo on your shirt. "Well, if you say so."

Ollie pulled into an empty spot in the Haas-reserved parking lot, the car purring to a gentle stop. The heat from the engine radiated into the confined space, a stark contrast to the coolness of the air conditioning.

"Looks like we're here," he announced, the smirk on his face unwavering.

You nodded, your pulse quickening as you took in the chaotic symphony of sounds and smells that filled the air: the high-pitched whine of engines being fired up, the metallic clang of tools, and the faint scent of burning rubber.

Ollie turned off the ignition, and the sudden silence was almost deafening. The tension between you was palpable, charged with an electricity that had nothing to do with the car's engine. You both stepped out into the sticky embrace of the early summer heat, the sun glinting off the chrome and carbon fiber monsters that surrounded you.

As you two walked into Haas, a murmur rippled through the team members and mechanics, their eyes drawn to the unmistakable logo emblazoned on your top. The whispers grew louder, a symphony of surprise and curiosity.

"Look, it's Ollie with a Mercedes fan," one engineer quipped, his laughter cutting through the air like a knife.

You felt your face redden as Ollie chuckled, placing a gentle hand on the small of your back to guide you through the throng of people.

"You can go see your boyfriend when he arrives," Ollie teased.

The words hit you like a splash of cold water, your heart skipping a beat as you realized he knew about your secret rendezvous with Kimi. You tried to keep your composure, but the blush spreading across your cheeks betrayed you.

"What are you talking about?" you retorted, feigning ignorance.

Ollie's grin grew wider, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, come on," he said. "I know that look. You're thinking about him, aren't you?"

You bit your lower lip. "What look?" you asked, your voice a little too high.

Ollie's eyes searched your face. "The one you get when you talk about Kimi. It's like you're melting from the inside out. Your pupils dilate, your cheeks flush, and your breath hitches ever so slightly."

"It's the same look you have right now."

"That's not true," you denied, the denial feeling weak even to your own ears. You busied yourself pretending to adjust the collar of his Haas polo to avoid his gaze.

Ollie didn't relent, saying, "Oh, it is. I've seen it. Remember last year's party when Kimi said 'Ciao bella' to you and you reminded me of that for a whole hour?"

Your cheeks grew hotter, and you felt a flutter in your stomach. You had hoped that incident would have been forgotten, but apparently, Ollie had a better memory than you gave him credit for. The way Kimi had looked at you that night, the way he had said those words, had left an indelible mark on your soul. It was a secret you had been carrying around for months, like a treasure you didn't know how to unlock.

"Well," you began, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, "it was just a friendly greeting."

Ollie's eyes searched yours, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Friendly, huh?"

"And what about when he showed you those Italian phrases that are a little less… innocent?"

You had been captivated by his accent, the way his eyes danced with mischief as he leaned in, his breath hot against your neck. "They're just… phrases," you murmured, trying to sound nonchalant.

But before Ollie could respond, a familiar Italian accent pierced the air. "Hey guys!"

Your head swiveled around to see Kimi approaching, the sun glinting off his shiny helmet. The sight of him sent an involuntary smile stretching across your face, a smile that felt as intimate as a lover's caress.

You watched as Ollie's expression morphed into one of camaraderie as he stepped forward to greet his friend. The two of them slapped palms, a silent language of respect and friendship passing between them.

As they talked, you felt Kimi's gaze on you, a warmth that spread from the pit of your stomach to the tips of your fingers.

Finally, Ollie stepped aside, and Kimi was before you, his arms open wide for an embrace. As he wrapped you in his strong hold, his mouth brushed against your ear, and he whispered, "I knew Mercedes would suit you better," his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You hugged him back, your heart racing, feeling his muscular chest against yours, the scent of his cologne mingling with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. You felt his hand slip down your back, resting for a second longer than necessary before pulling away, leaving a trail of heat on your skin.

"I see you've decided to show some love for the competition," he said, a teasing smile playing on his full lips.

You stepped back, trying to compose yourself. "It's just a shirt," you protested, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi's gaze dropped to the logo on your chest, and his smile grew wicked. "Is it?" He stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to trace the outline of the Mercedes emblem with his fingertips.

Ollie cleared his throat, and you snapped out of the spell. You stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of control.

"It's just for fun," you said, your voice sounding too high-pitched even to your own ears.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, the warmth in them unmistakable. He leaned in, whispering so only you could hear, "I'm sure it is."

Ollie's gaze flicked between the two of you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He clapped Kimi on the back. "We've got a race to prep for," he said, the teasing note in his voice clear as crystal.

The two of them walked away, deep in conversation about setups and tire strategies, leaving you standing there, breathless and flustered.

As the day wore on, the paddock buzzed with activity. The air was thick with the scent of burning rubber and gasoline. You found yourself drawn to Kimi like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the gravitational pull of his charm. Every time you caught his eye, he'd give you a wink or a smile that made your heart flutter. It was a dance.

You watched from the garage as the cars rolled out for qualifying. The roar of the engines was a symphony, a crescendo of power and speed that made your blood sing. And there he was, Kimi, in his sleek silver Mercedes, looking every bit the god of the track that you had always imagined him to be.

He glanced up, catching your eye, and gave you a nod before climbing into the cockpit. He disappeared from view, leaving you with nothing but the sound of your own racing heart.

The hours passed in a blur of tire changes and strategy meetings. The air grew thick with the scent of sweat and grease, the tension in the garage almost tangible.

And when Kimi finally emerged, his helmet under his arm, his hair damp with sweat, you felt the world tilt on its axis.

He was fourth on the grid, a respectable position, but you knew he had the potential for so much more. You watched as he peeled off his racing suit, revealing the tight, sweat-soaked fabric of his fireproof underwear. Ollie, on the other hand, had managed to qualify in eleventh place.

As the final practice session concluded, you found yourself gravitating towards Ollie, who was surrounded by his engineers, discussing the data with a furrowed brow. You hovered at the edge of the group, trying to appear inconspicuous, but his eyes flickered up to meet yours, a question in his gaze.

You took a deep breath and stepped closer, the smell of the track clinging to him like a second scent. His eyes searched yours, and he gave you a smile that was so forced it looked like it was painted on.

"Everything okay?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Ollie's smile was tight, his eyes unreadable. "Yeah, just a bit of work to do before tomorrow." He stepped closer, his arm brushing against yours.

"I'm sure you'll do great," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Ollie nodded, but the smile he gave you was forced, a mere shadow of his usual charismatic grin. You couldn't help but notice the tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes searched yours for something unspoken. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Ollie," you began, reaching out to touch his arm.

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You should go and celebrate with your boyfriend," he said, his voice low and gruff. "Don't worry about me. I've got work to do."

You felt a pang of guilt, the weight of his words like a stone in your stomach. "Ollie, I—"

But he cut you off with a firm shake of his head. "It's fine," he said, his voice softer now. "You two have fun. You deserve it."

The words hung in the air, a strange mix of sadness and resignation that tugged at your heartstrings. You didn't know what to say, so you just nodded, the weight of his gaze heavy on your shoulders as you turned and walked away.

You found yourself in front of the Mercedes garage, the door open just enough to reveal the gleaming silver car that was the object of so much of your desire. Kimi was there, surrounded by his own team, his eyes scanning the data screens with a focus that was both intense and mesmerizing.

You took a tentative step forward, unsure if you should join him or keep your distance. But before you could decide, he looked up, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

"Ciao, bella donna," Kimi said, his voice like velvet, smooth and warm.

You felt the tension in the air thicken as you stepped into the garage, the sounds of the bustling paddock fading into the background. The light caught the droplets of sweat on his face, making them sparkle like diamonds against his olive skin. You swallowed hard, your throat dry. Kimi's team members looked up, a mix of curiosity and surprise etched on their faces. You had never ventured into their sacred space before.

"I just wanted to… congratulate you," you managed to say, your voice a mere whisper in the bustling garage.

Kimi's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Grazie, tesoro," he said, his Italian rolling over you like warm honey. He stepped away from his car, closing the space between you in a heartbeat.

His hand reached for yours, his grip firm and reassuring. "Come," he said, tugging you gently towards a quieter corner of the garage. The cacophony of the paddock faded away, leaving only the sound of your own breathing and the pounding of your heart.

You followed him, your body moving on autopilot, drawn to him like a magnet to steel. The air grew thick with anticipation, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Kimi said, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned against the wall of his garage. The shadows played over the contours of his face, casting him in a mysterious light that only served to enhance his allure.

You felt your pulse quicken, his words sending a rush of heat through your body. "I wanted to… I mean, I just thought I should… " You stumbled over your words, your cheeks flushing as you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

He leaned closer, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Piano piano," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "Take it slow."

The words were a gentle command, a whispered promise that made your heart race. You knew what he meant.

"Your hand is shaking," he observed, his voice low and soothing. "Are you nervous?"

You nodded, the admission feeling like a confession. "A little," you whispered, your eyes dropping to the ground.

Kimi's grip on your hand tightened gently. "Don't be," he said, his voice a soothing balm. "You're safe with me."

You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world stopped spinning. His eyes were pools of warmth, inviting you to dive in and lose yourself in their depths. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest rise and fall with the rhythm of your racing heart.

"Kimi," you breathed, his name a prayer on your lips.

He tilted his head, a question in his gaze. "Yes, tesoro?"

You swallowed hard, the word feeling both intimate and terrifying on your tongue. "I've missed you," you confessed, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Kimi's expression softened, and he stepped closer, his thumb still stroking gentle circles on the back of your hand. "I've missed you too," he murmured, his breath fanning across your cheek.

You tried to deny the shiver that rippled through you, the way your body leaned into him without thought. "It's just been a few days," you protested, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

Kimi's smile grew wicked. "Doesn't mean I haven't thought about you," he murmured, his thumb brushing the pulse point on your wrist.

"We're just friends," you whispered, the words feeling inadequate.

Kimi’s smile grew, a knowing glint in his eye. "Friends can miss each other," he said, his voice a soft caress that seemed to wrap around you.

"It's only been a week," you thought to yourself over and over again, trying to anchor yourself to reality. A week since you last saw him, a week since stolen glances and whispered conversations in the dead of night in a small restaurant.

You tried to deny it. "It's only been a week."

Kimi chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. "Time is a strange thing, isn't it? Sometimes it feels like forever, sometimes like a blink. This week felt like a lifetime.” He paused, his gaze intense. “A lifetime too long."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of insincerity, but all you found was raw honesty. You could see the truth in his words, the same truth that resonated within you.

Kimi looked happy to be in your presence. The way his eyes lingered on yours, the soft smile that played on his lips, the gentle touch of his hand – it all spoke volumes.

It was a happiness that both thrilled and terrified you. You knew the risks, the complications, the potential for heartbreak.

"I shouldn't be here," you said, the words a contradiction of your own desires. "Someone could see us."

Kimi shrugged, his eyes still locked on yours. "Let them. I don't care."

"But... the press, your team…" You trailed off, unable to articulate the myriad of reasons why this was wrong, why it could never work.

"Let them talk," he said, his voice resolute. "The only opinions that matter are yours… and mine."

The warmth of his hand sent a jolt through your body, a stark contrast to the cool breeze that danced around you. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach.

"Kimi," you muttered, the syllables sticking to your tongue like honey, sweet and thick with emotion.

He leaned in, his smile widening slightly, "I promise, I'm not going to rush you for an answer now." His words were a gentle caress, a soft whisper that tickled your senses. The air between you grew charged with anticipation, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

You felt a warmth spread from your cheeks to the tips of your ears, and your eyes searched for a hint of teasing in his gaze. But all you saw was sincerity. "But we do need to go on our next date," he continued, his voice a smooth melody that seemed to resonate with the rhythm of your own heart.

"Now?" you asked, the word slipping out before you could stop it. The question hung in the air, filled with both excitement and doubt.

"Yes, now," he grinned, taking your hand firmly in his. His touch was surprisingly warm, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the garage door as it closed behind you with a gentle clank.

You felt your pulse quicken. "But what about your debriefing?" you asked, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

"I finished it quickly for you, bella," Kimi winked, his use of the endearment making your heart flutter.

You couldn't believe it. The race was the talk of the town, and he had managed to slip away unnoticed. "How?" you whispered, eyes wide with astonishment.

Kimi chuckled again, his grip on your hand tightening reassuringly. "I have my ways."

The private parking lot was dimly lit, the shadows playing tricks on the shiny exteriors of the luxury vehicles. His car, a sleek sports model in a deep shade of midnight blue, stood out like a beacon in the night. The cool metal of the car door was a relief under your fingertips as he opened it for you with a flourish.

You slid into the plush leather seat, the smell of new car and faint hint of his cologne enveloping you like a comforting embrace. The engine roared to life, the vibrations thrumming through your body as he revved it up. The headlights cut through the darkness as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the open road.

The wind in your hair was exhilarating, the city lights a blur as Kimi navigated the streets with the confidence of a seasoned racer. You couldn't help but let out a little laugh, the kind that comes from a mix of excitement and nerves.

He glanced over at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving the road ahead.

"Where are we even going?" you asked, the thrill of the unknown adding to the electricity in the air.

"Somewhere special," Kimi replied, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror briefly before returning to the road.

The car's engine purring beneath you was the only sound in the quiet cab, the city's din fading as you ventured into the less-traveled streets. The anticipation grew with each passing moment, your heart racing faster than the speedometer.

Without warning, he pulled into the deserted parking lot of a quaint, old-fashioned cinema. The neon lights flickered, casting a soft glow that painted the pavement a warm shade of red. You felt your brows knit together in confusion, but before you could voice it, Kimi had brought the car to a gentle stop.

He was out of the car in a flash, rounding the hood to open your door. You took his hand, allowing him to help you out, the soles of your shoes clicking against the pavement.

As you looked around, the deserted cinema looked like a relic from another era, a stark contrast to the bustling world you had just left behind. Kimi led you inside, his stride long and confident. The lobby was empty, save for an Italian cashier with a knowing smile.

They exchanged a few words in their native tongue, and you felt a twinge of curiosity. The cashier handed over two tickets with a wink and a nod, and suddenly you realized that you weren't just any couple out for a movie.

The theater was empty, the vastness of the space swallowing up the sound of your footsteps. The screen was already lit up, the opening credits of "Mamma Mia" playing to an audience of two.

Kimi took your hand, leading you to the middle of the theater. The smell of buttered popcorn filled the air as you sat down, the plush seats seemingly made for moments like these.

"This used to be my favorite movie," Kimi murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "I think it will help you learn Italian."

You looked at him, surprised. "Italian?"

"Yes," he nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "It's a movie, but the lyrics are mostly in Italian. It's a classic romance, and the music... it's like a window into our soul."

The film started, the vibrant colors and catchy tunes of "Honey, Honey" playing out before you. Kimi leaned closer, pointing out phrases here and there, whispering translations in your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

As the story unfolded, so did his own, sharing anecdotes and childhood memories that wove themselves into the fabric of the movie.

You found yourself getting lost in the music, the emotions playing out on screen mirroring the tumultuous symphony within your own chest. His hand found its way to yours, fingers intertwining comfortably. You felt your heart swell with every word he whispered, every shared smile, every beat of the Italian love songs.

The plot grew more intense, the characters' passions colliding like the waves of the sea that surrounded the fictional Greek island. Kimi's eyes never left the screen, but his grip on your hand tightened during the emotional climaxes, as if the love stories of the film were echoing his own feelings.

As the movie went on, you began to recognize the phrases he had taught you, the words rolling off your tongue almost naturally. The romance of the film filled the air, and you found yourself leaning into him, his arm around your shoulder, protective and warm.

Then, the iconic duet "The Winner Takes It All" began to play. The female and male voices intertwined, a poignant expression of love and loss. 

Kimi started to sing the male part, his voice a little too deep for the high notes, but filled with passion nonetheless. You couldn't help but laugh at his earnest attempt, the sound echoing softly in the deserted theater.

He glanced at you, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "You think you can do better?" he challenged playfully.

Emboldened by his playful teasing, you opened your mouth and sang the female part. Your voice was soft at first, tentative, but grew stronger as you found your rhythm. The melody swelled, and despite the occasional off-key notes, your harmony with Kimi grew more beautiful with each line. You could feel his smile against your hair as you sang, his chest rumbling with his own laughter.

The song ended, the screen fading to black before the lights flickered back on. The theater remained empty, the silence a gentle cushion for the emotional intensity of the moment. You both took a deep breath, the air thick with the scent of popcorn and the unspoken feelings that danced between you.

Kimi turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. "I didn't know you could sing," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

You blushed, feeling a bit self-conscious. "It's been a while," you admitted. "But I guess the right company brings it out of me."

He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "I like bringing out the best in you," he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek. "I want to see more of it."

The movie continued, the plot unfolding with the sweetness of a blooming romance and the bitterness of misunderstandings. You found yourself lost in the story, the emotions of the characters resonating with the tumult in your own heart. 

As the film progressed, Kimi's hand slipped from yours to rest gently on your knee, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

The plot grew more complex, the characters' relationships tangling like the vines that adorned the Greek isle's landscape. You felt your chest tighten as you watched the heartbreaking scenes play out, the raw emotion on the screen mirrored in Kimi's eyes.

The film's grand finale approached, the music swelling with hope and longing. You watched as the characters faced their fears, confessed their love, and found their way back to each other.

As the final credits began to roll, the theater was bathed in the soft glow of the projector's light. You took a shaky breath, trying to ignore the butterflies that had started a frenzied dance in your stomach. "Kimi," you began, your voice barely a whisper.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, the question hanging in the air like a delicate thread. "That was beautiful," you continued, feeling the weight of the words on your tongue.

He nodded, his thumb still making circles on your knee. "I know," he grinned.

The theater was empty, the only sounds the distant hum of the projector and the beating of two hearts echoing through the vast space.

"Thank you," you murmured. "For this, for everything."

"It's nothing," he replied. "We're just getting started."

As you stepped out of the theater into the cool night air, you realized that it was really dark, leaving a quiet, peaceful calm in its wake. The stars twinkled above, a silent backdrop to the symphony of your racing thoughts. Kimi's hand found yours again, and you felt the promise in his grip.

The world around you was a blur as he led you to the car, the neon lights of the city reflecting in the puddles left by the rain. You slid into the passenger seat, your heart still racing from the emotional rollercoaster of the film and the intensity of the moment.

He started the car, the engine purring to life beneath you, and pulled out of the lot. The city lights danced in the side mirrors, a blur of color and movement as you left the past behind you. 

The future was unwritten, filled with possibilities and unknowns, but as you looked at Kimi, you knew that no matter what lay ahead, you had someone to navigate it with. The quiet between you was filled with unspoken words and the sweet anticipation of what was to come. The night was young, and the adventure was just beginning.

Kimi drove with the confidence of someone who knew the city like the back of his hand, the car's headlights slicing through the inky blackness of the night. The salty scent of the ocean grew stronger with each passing mile, hinting at the destination that lay ahead. 

Before you knew it, the asphalt under the tires gave way to the soft crunch of sand as he pulled into a hidden cove, the beach stretching out before you like a canvas of moonlit tranquility.

"Kimi..." you began, the question in your voice trailing off as he turned off the engine and opened your door. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was the only music that played as you stepped out of the car.

"I wanted to give you a 'Mamma Mia' experience," he said, taking your hand and leading you down a winding path to the beach. 

The sand was cool between your toes, and the soft glow of string lights guided you to a picnic blanket laid out with a feast of Italian delights. The scent of garlic and herbs wafted through the air, mingling with the briny tang of the sea.

The picnic was set up with precision, a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket, surrounded by plates of bruschetta, cheese, and a selection of meats. 

The sight was like a scene from a movie, so perfect it was almost surreal. He had even brought a small speaker, playing the film's soundtrack at a low volume, the music a gentle serenade to the whispers of the night.

You couldn't help but smile as he pulled you into a dance, the sand shifting beneath your feet. His movements were fluid, his grip firm but gentle, guiding you through the motions with a grace that made your heart sing. 

As you danced under the stars, you felt a sense of belonging, a feeling that was as vast as the ocean that stretched out before you. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze making your knees wobble. 

You weren't just any girl at any beach; you were in the arms of the man who you were slowly falling for.

The music grew softer as the night deepened, the stars above seeming to hold their breath as the tension grew between you. Kimi leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want to sit?" he asked, his voice low and filled with meaning.

Nods and nods, your heart racing faster than the waves that lapped at the shore. You sat on the picnic blanket, the warmth of the sand seeping through the fabric, a stark contrast to the cold glass of wine he handed you.

You took a sip, the taste rich and full, complementing the salty air. The sound of the ocean was a gentle lullaby, the rhythm of the waves matching the beating of your heart. Kimi sat beside you, close enough that your legs brushed against each other. 

"How did you like this date, eh?" Kimi asked, his eyes searching yours. The question was a simple one, yet it held a universe of meaning.

You looked around the moonlit cove, the gentle waves whispering secrets to the shore, and back at him. "It's... perfect," you managed to say, the word feeling inadequate for the emotions swirling inside you. 

The Italian music played softly in the background, a serenade to the stars above. Kimi's smile grew, his eyes lighting up like the fireflies that danced around the beach. "I'm glad," he said, his voice a warm caress in the salty breeze.

You took another sip of the wine, the flavors blossoming on your tongue. "I didn't expect... this," you admitted, gesturing to the picnic spread.

Kimi leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. "What did you expect?"

You set the wine glass down, the tremble in your hand barely noticeable. "I don't know," you replied, a small laugh escaping your lips. "But definitely not this."

The question hovered between you, a soft echo of the waves. Kimi leaned closer, his gaze intent. "But what did you think of it?"

You took a deep breath, the briny scent of the sea mingling with the aroma of the wine and food. "It's more than I could have ever imagined," you confessed, your voice barely audible over the gentle symphony of the night. "I didn't know dates could be like this."

Kimi's smile grew, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "And how have you been treated before?" he asked, his voice a gentle coax.

You thought back to the dates that felt like they were pulled from a cookie-cutter, the men who had tried but never quite hit the mark. "It's just... nobody has ever made me feel like I'm the only person in the world," you murmured, the words a soft confession. "It's like you see me, really see me."

Kimi's eyes searched yours, understanding flickering in their depths. "You are special," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "You deserve to be seen, to be appreciated." He reached out, his thumb brushing away a stray hair from your face.

The touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. "Thank you," you whispered, the words feeling like a prayer. You had never been treated with such care, such consideration. 

The men from your past had been shadows compared to the vibrant, living color of Kimi. They had taken you to dinner, bought you flowers, whispered sweet nothings, but they had never made you feel like you were the center of their universe.

As you talked under the stars, the wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of the sea and the promise of change. The picnic had been a feast for the senses, and as the music grew softer, so too did your heart, filling with a warmth that seemed to radiate from Kimi's very soul. 

You could feel the moment drawing to a close, the inevitability of reality trying to break through the magical bubble you had created.

"Let's get you home," Kimi said finally, his voice a gentle caress. You nodded, not quite ready to let the night end but knowing that it had to. 

You helped him gather the remnants of the picnic, the plates and glasses clinking together like a sweet melody. The sand clung to your clothes, a reminder of the enchanting world you had just shared.

He drove you home, the car's headlights cutting through the night like a beacon guiding you back to the safety of the familiar.

You watched the world go by, the streetlights casting a golden glow over the city's nocturnal landscape.

When you arrived at your house, the car came to a gentle stop. The engine ticked as it cooled, the only sound in the quiet night. Kimi walked you to the door, his hand in yours, the warmth of his skin grounding you in the moment. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the anticipation of what was to come making it difficult to breathe.

"Good night, Y/N," Kimi said, his eyes searching yours. You leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against your lips.

"Good night, Kimi," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You watched as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. You slid the key into the lock, the metal cold against your trembling hand. With one final look, you turned the knob, the door creaking open to reveal the warm embrace of your home.

You leaned against the door, the wood cool against your flushed cheek. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the echoes of his words with it.

You slid down the door, the adrenaline from the night leaving your body in a rush. Your heart felt like it was racing in a marathon, each beat echoing the rhythm of the waves from the cove. 

The house was quiet, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, a gentle reminder that the world didn't stop spinning just because you had found a moment of happiness. You stepped inside, the warm light of the foyer wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. 

As you closed the door, you felt a strange sense of both longing and contentment. The night had been perfect, a memory you would cherish, but now you were left with the bittersweet realization that it was over.

The door clicked shut, the sound echoing through the silent house. You leaned against it, the imprint of Kimi's hand still burned into your skin. The taste of him lingered on your lips, a sweet reminder of the promise that hung in the air. . . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Every weekend, without fail, he would whisk you away to a new Italian-inspired adventure. Museums, where the air had the scent of ancient oils and the hush of reverence, became your classroom. You'd stand before paintings of rolling landscapes, Kimi pointing at the vibrant hues and insisting you name them in Italian.

It was as if he were feeding you a piece of the language with every brushstroke you took in. The cobblestone streets of the city's Little Italy echoed with your tentative words as you stumbled through phrases that once danced so effortlessly from your tongue.

The restaurants were his grandest stage. He'd select the most authentic trattorias, where the chefs had names that rolled off the tongue like the perfect pasta al dente. You'd sit at a table set with a red-checkered cloth, the aroma of garlic and tomatoes teasing your senses.

Kimi would order for you in rapid-fire Italian, his eyes gleaming with excitement as you tried to decode his words. The servers, with their genuine smiles, seemed to understand the silent struggle of your rekindling romance with their mother tongue.

They'd nod encouragingly as you fumbled through your menu, eventually pointing at a dish with a name that sounded like poetry but was just spaghetti to your unpracticed ears.

As the weeks rolled by, you began to feel a strange kinship with the language, as if it were a long-lost friend you were slowly getting reacquainted with. The frustration of forgotten vocabulary and grammar rules slowly melted away, replaced by a warm nostalgia for the days when Italian was your secret garden of words.

You started to anticipate the weekends, the thrill of the challenge growing with every mouthwatering dish and every sculpture that told a story you could almost remember. It was as though Kimi had cast a spell on you, and the incantation was the melodic cadence of his Italian commands.

One particular evening, the stars aligned. You stepped into a dimly lit enoteca, the walls lined with bottles that gleamed like jewels in the soft light.

The hum of conversation was a soothing backdrop to the clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Kimi had a twinkle in his eye as he handed you a glass of deep red wine and told you to order

You took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through you, and then took a deep breath. "Posso avere un piatto di bruschetta, per favore?" you asked, your voice stronger than it had been in what felt like an eternity.

The waiter nodded, a knowing smile playing at his lips, and disappeared into the kitchen. As you waited, the anticipation grew, not just for the food, but for the sense of triumph that was about to be yours.

The words had come so naturally, so confidently, that you could almost believe you had never lost them at all. It was as if you had just found a key to a door you didn't know was locked.

Kimi's smile grew wider as he heard your request. "Che bella voce!" he exclaimed, raising his glass to you in a silent toast. His voice was filled with pride and joy, and his eyes sparkled like the stars outside.

"You're doing it," he whispered, leaning closer across the table. "You're bringing it back to life."

The bruschetta arrived, a plate piled high with crispy slices of bread topped with a symphony of tomatoes, basil, and mozzarella. The waiter placed it down with a flourish, the scent of garlic and balsamic vinegar wafting towards you. As you took a bite, the flavors exploded on your taste buds, transporting you to a summer evening in a small Italian piazza.

Kimi's eyes never left yours, a gentle nod of approval etched into his expression. "Anche la tua pronuncia," he said, praising your pronunciation.

His voice was a warm embrace, a gentle nudge that encouraged you to keep going. You felt a blush creep up your neck, but it was a blush of pride, not embarrassment.

You took another bite of bruschetta, savoring the tangy sweetness of the tomatoes and the creaminess of the cheese.

As you chewed, you tried to think of the next thing to say, eager to keep the conversation flowing in Italian. Kimi watched you, his gaze filled with affectionate amusement, as you wrestled with the words.

"Grazie," you said finally, the word rolling off your tongue like a well-practiced aria. "E' deliziosa."

Kimi's eyes lit up like the candle on the table between you. "Non é solo il cibo," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Ma la lingua stessa. L'italiano é come la danza. Ha il suo ritmo, la sua grazia."

You nodded, understanding what he meant. Italian was indeed like a dance, one that you were slowly learning to perform again. You felt the rhythm of the language in the way the words flowed from his lips, and the elegance in the way he moved his hands as he spoke.

As the weeks turned into months, the lessons grew more intimate. It was no longer just about the words, but the emotions behind them.

Kimi would tell you stories of his childhood in Bologna, his voice painting vivid images of the bustling markets and the warmth of his nonna's kitchen.

You found yourself falling in love with him, not just for his passion for his culture, but for the way he shared it with you. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You were walking to Kimi's garage, the sun glaring down on the concrete, when you felt a gentle tug at your trousers. You looked down to see a shy girl, maybe eight or nine, with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and a shy smile playing on her lips. She looked up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

"Hey there, sweetie," you said, bending down to her level. "What's up?"

The girl clutched a small, colorful bracelet in her tiny hands. It was a simple thing, woven from bits of plastic and thread, but to her, it looked like the most precious treasure in the world. "Can you give this to your boyfriend?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Confusion wrinkled your brow. "My boyfriend?" You didn't have one, at least not that you knew of.

"Yeah," she said, nodding fervently, "the one with the big car. The fast one. He's nice to me."

It dawned on you then. Kimi. You chuckled and took the bracelet. "Kimi, huh?"

The girl's cheeks turned a shade of pink that matched the plastic flowers on the bracelet. "Please," she whispered, her eyes shimmering with hope. "It's for him."

You straightened up and nodded, tucking the bracelet into your pocket with a smile. "Alright, little one. I'll make sure Kimi gets it."

Her eyes lit up, and she beamed a grin that could've powered a city. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

With a chuckle, you then took the Mercedes hat that belonged to Kimi from your head and placed it on her head. It was a bit too big, but she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she looked like she'd just been crowned royalty.

The hat sat atop her head like a cherry on a sundae, slightly askew, with the brim casting a shadow over her freckled nose.

Her eyes grew wide with excitement, and she giggled as she felt the fabric of the hat against her forehead. "Wow!" she exclaimed, "I feel like I can drive a car now!"

With that, she dashed off, the hat bobbing comically with every step she took. You watched her until she reached a woman standing a few feet away, who looked at you with a grateful smile.

The girl threw her arms around the woman's legs and whispered something into her ear, glancing back at you. The woman looked surprised for a moment, then her gaze softened, and she nodded, glancing in the direction of the garage. She whispered something back, and the girl beamed up at you before running off.

You chuckled and continued your journey to the garage, the warmth of the sun on your back. The girl's excitement had brightened your day, and you couldn't help but wonder what Kimi would think of the bracelet.

When you arrived at the garage, the sound of a revving engine and the smell of gasoline filled the air. You walked into the cluttered space, passing by a wall of tools and a rack of greasy car parts, and all you could see were mechanics in blue jumpsuits scattered around, working tirelessly on various vehicles.

You squinted through the dusty light, looking for Kimi. There was no sign of him anywhere. You felt the heat of the engines and heard the rhythmic clinking of metal on metal, but still, he was nowhere to be found.

Then, in the corner, you spotted a glimpse of a familiar face—Bono, Kimi's race engineer, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was hunched over a table with a sheaf of papers spread out in front of him.

He had a pencil in his hand, scribbling furiously, and he looked utterly engrossed in whatever calculations he was doing.

Finally, you caught sight of Kimi. He was standing next to Bono, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression equally frustrated. The two of them were so focused on the paperwork in front of them that they hadn't noticed you yet.

You took a moment to watch them, the tension in their postures speaking volumes about their current predicament. As you approached, the sound of your footsteps echoed through the garage, and Kimi looked up.

"Looks like you have a secret admirer," you said, tossing the bracelet to him.

He caught the bracelet you tossed, and his expression grew more serious as he studied it. "What's this?" he asked, fingering the plastic threads.

"It's from a little girl," you said. "She wanted you to have it."

Kimi's eyes softened, and he looked up at you, his smile widening. "Really?"

You nodded. "She said you're nice to her one day."

Bono looked up from his calculations, his curiosity piqued by the exchange. "Everything okay?"

Kimi held up the bracelet, his grin unshakeable. "Yeah," he said. "Everything's great."

The two of you shared a look, and you could see the weight of their earlier frustration lifting. For a brief moment, the garage didn't seem so chaotic, and the only thing that mattered was the simple act of kindness captured in the plastic flowers of that bracelet.

"Well, that's sweet," Kimi said, his eyes never leaving yours. "But why did she give it to you?"

You felt a blush creep up your neck. "Um, she thought… I was your girlfriend," you admitted, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Kimi's smile grew even wider. He looked down at the bracelet again, then back at you, his eyes filled with amusement. "Did she now?"

You nodded, your cheeks burning hotter than the engine of one of the cars in the garage. "Yeah, she thought I was your girlfriend, so she asked me to give it to you."

Kimi's eyes glinted with mischief. "And what did you tell her?"

"I just said I'd give it to you," you replied, feeling more nervous by the second.

Kimi's gaze didn't waver. "But did you tell her anything else?"

You swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden dryness in your throat. "No, nothing else," you replied, hoping your voice didn't betray the lie.

Kimi's smile grew into a full-blown grin, and he took a step closer to you, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Are you sure?"

You felt your heart flutter as his proximity sent waves of heat through your body. "Positive," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Well, if you're my girlfriend," he said, his voice low and teasing, "I suppose I should be giving you something, too."

With that, he took off one of his own bracelets. It was a sleek, black leather band with a silver charm that looked like a tiny car. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a little breathless.

"Exchanging," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. He took your hand and slid his bracelet on your wrist. The warmth of his skin lingered on your skin, making you shiver. "Now, every time I wear this, I'll think of you."

The leather felt smooth and cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat that was building within you. You looked down at the charm, your heart racing as the reality of the situation sank in.

Kimi had never made a move like this before, and you weren't quite sure how to react.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as he fastened the bracelet around your wrist. His fingers lingered for a moment, brushing against your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

Your eyes remained fixed on his, the intensity of his gaze making it hard for you to look away.

Bono, who had been quietly observing the exchange, cleared his throat. "We have a revision to do, Kimi," he said, his voice cutting through the thick tension like a hot knife through butter.

Kimi's gaze didn't leave yours for a second, a silent question lingering in his eyes before he finally nodded. "Right," he murmured, his voice a bit gruff.

Bono cleared his throat again, louder this time. "Kimi," he prompted.

Kimi's eyes snapped away from yours, and he took a step back, breaking the spell. "Ah, yes," he said, his voice returning to its usual, business-like tone. "We do have a revision to do."

You watched as he turned to Bono, the bracelet on your wrist a constant reminder of the moment that had just passed between you. Bono gave you a knowing look before focusing back on his papers.

You felt a strange sense of calm while KImi was stressing over maths. Numbers danced in your head, equations unfolding like graceful dancers in a silent ballet. You knew calculus. You understood it in a way Kimi never would.

"I just… I don't get it," Kimi groaned, running a hand through his already messy hair. His brow was furrowed in frustration as he stared at a page filled with integrals, the nemesis of his academic existence.

"It's like trying to understand a language no one speaks," Kimi muttered, pushing the textbook away.

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, the warmth of his skin seeping through his shirt and into your palm. "Let me take a look," you offered, your voice soothing.

Kimi hesitated before handing over the book with a defeated sigh. You sat beside him, the scent of engine oil and sweat mingling with the faint aroma of his cologne—a surprisingly pleasant combination that you'd come to associate with the garage.

The pages of the book fell open, revealing the tangled web of formulas that had him so flustered.

"It's not that hard," you assured him, leaning closer so that your bodies touched. "It's just a matter of practice."

Kimi sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I know, but it's just not sticking."

"I could teach you if you wanted?" you offered tentatively, glancing at both Kimi and Bono.

Bono's eyes shot up from the paperwork he had been engrossed in, and a look of relief washed over his face. "Yes, please," he said, his voice a mix of hope and desperation. "Anything to get this little gremlin to understand calculus."

Kimi rolled his eyes playfully, but you could see the hint of gratitude in them. He leaned back in his chair, his muscular arms flexing as he did so, and gestured to the open textbook.

"Be my guest," he said with a smile, his gaze lingering on your hand that still rested on his shoulder.

Bono looked up from his paperwork, his expression a mix of hope and skepticism. "If you can get him to pass this class, I'll owe you one," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of challenge.

You took the textbook into your hands, feeling the weight of the responsibility, but also a thrill at the prospect of being able to help Kimi in a way that was uniquely yours. "Let's start with the basics," you suggested, turning to the first chapter.

As you delved into the world of derivatives and integrals, you found yourself enjoying the process of explaining concepts to him. His eyes would light up when he understood something, and the way his brows furrowed when he was concentrating was endearing.

You felt a strange sense of intimacy, not just because of your physical proximity, but because you were sharing a piece of yourself with him that you had never shared with anyone else.

Kimi's mind was sharp when it came to cars—he could dismantle and reassemble an engine faster than you could recite the alphabet. But math? It was his Achilles' heel.

You found yourself getting lost in his eyes as you explained the rules of calculus, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, and the way his bottom lip pouted slightly when he was confused. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The faint scent of fresh ink and paper filled the room as you meticulously scrutinized Kimi's Maths homework, the soft whispers of the words dancing in the air like an intimate serenade. The bracelet he had given you weeks ago jingled with every turn of the page, a delicate reminder of the secret bond you shared.

"That's my brother's favorite bracelet," said a sweet, unfamiliar voice, piercing the silence like a softly played note on a violin.

Looking up from the academic tapestry laid before you, your gaze fell upon the speaker. A girl, no older than thirteen, with a cascade of long brown hair that shimmered under the muted lamplight, and eyes so deep and rich they could have been pockets of pure, untouched chocolate, stared back at you.

Her smile was a mirror of Kimi's, but there was an innocence in it that made your heart flutter like a caged bird discovering an open window.

"Really?" you replied, your voice a cocktail of surprise and curiosity. "How do you know?"

The girl leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I've seen him wear it a hundred times," she confessed, her voice a gentle caress on the silence. "But he said he gave it to you."

Her revelation hung in the air, thick with the anticipation of an unspoken question. You felt your cheeks flush, the warmth spreading from your core like wildfire. The bracelet grew heavier on your wrist, a silent testament to the secret you'd been keeping from everyone, including yourself.

"Is... is that okay?" you stuttered, fidgeting with the delicate trinket. The girl's eyes searched yours, a mix of amusement and something you couldn't quite place. "I mean, I didn't know it was his favorite."

She giggled, a sound so pure it could have been the tinkling of wind chimes on a perfect summer evening. "Don't worry," she assured you, "I think he's happy you're wearing it. It looks good on you."

"I'm Maggie, by the way. Kimi's little sister."

"Oh, it's nice to finally meet you, Maggie," you managed to say, trying to compose yourself. "Your brother's been helping me with Italian."

Maggie's smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Ah, yes," she said, her voice a melodious symphony of knowing and innocence. "Kimi's always had a knack for languages. And for helping people, too."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words sinking in. The bracelet grew warmer, a silent pulsation that seemed to echo the rhythm of your racing heart. "He's been amazing," you confessed, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice. "He's really patient with me."

Maggie nodded sagely, her smile unwavering. "He always has been," she said. "But I've noticed a different kind of spark in his eyes when he talks about you."

You felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation coil in your stomach. "He talks about me?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

Maggie nodded, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "All the time," she said, her words a gentle tease. "He tells me how much you've been improving, how much he enjoys your company."

Your heart skipped a beat, the warmth from the bracelet spreading up your arm like a lover's caress. "Really?" you murmured, trying to keep the hope from bubbling over into your voice.

Maggie nodded emphatically, her youthful exuberance infectious. "Yeah!" she exclaimed, her cheeks dimpling. "He says you're the best student he's ever had."

You couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from your chest, a warm, velvety sound that seemed to resonate through the room. "I think I'm the only student he's ever had," you said, the words tumbling out with an ease that surprised even you.

Maggie's laughter joined yours, a sweet harmony that filled the air with the lightness of feathers dancing on a summer breeze. "You're probably right," she admitted, her eyes shining with affection for her brother.

Then, as if on cue, a shadow fell over the two of you, and a familiar, playful voice rang out, "Hey! That's mean from both of you! Especially you, sorellina!"

You turned to find Kimi standing beside you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. You looked up into his eyes, and the world around you melted away into a pool of molten chocolate, rich and deep.

"I've taught Ollie Italian too," Kimi added, a smug grin playing on his full lips.

Maggie rolled her eyes and playfully swiped at her brother. "Yeah, but you didn't give him a bracelet!"

Kimi's grip on your shoulders tightened slightly, his eyes dropping to the bracelet on your wrist. "It's just a little something," he said, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to resonate through your very being. "A small token of friendship."

"Kim told me you're Italian," Maggie asked, her curiosity piqued. "Is that true?"

You looked into her eager eyes, feeling the warmth of Kimi's hands on your shoulders, his presence a comforting embrace that seemed to bolster your courage. "Yes," you admitted, your voice a soft caress. "My mother's side of the family is from a small town outside of Verona."

Maggie's eyes widened with excitement. "Really?" she squealed, her voice a delightful trill. "That's so cool! Do you speak Italian fluently?"

You nodded, a warm smile playing on your lips as you felt Kimi's hands tense ever so slightly. "I used to," you admitted. "But it's been a while. That's why I've been asking Kimi for help."

Kimi's thumb stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle dance on your skin. "Well, it's definitely coming back to you," he said, his voice a soothing balm to the nerves that had suddenly taken up residence in your belly.

"It's all thanks to you," you replied, the words slipping out like a sigh of contentment. You felt a thrill rush through you as his eyes searched yours for a moment longer than necessary, his gaze lingering on your mouth before dropping back to the bracelet.

The sudden, unexpected announcement crackled over the intercom, jolting you both out of the intimate moment. "Attention, all drivers," the disembodied voice called out, "please report to your designated garage immediately."

Kimi's eyes snapped to the clock on the wall, his expression a mix of surprise and excitement. "The race," he murmured, his thumbs ceasing their gentle exploration of your skin. "It's starting sooner than I thought."

"Can I watch with y/n?" Maggie's voice was a breath of fresh air, filled with excitement and innocent curiosity. The question hung in the air, a delicate thread connecting the three of you in a way you hadn't anticipated.

Kimi's eyes lit up with an idea, his grip on your shoulders loosening as he stepped away. "Why don't you?" he suggested, turning to face you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "It'll be like a little reunion, and maybe she can even help me teach you some Italian."

You felt your heart race as you looked from Kimi to Maggie and back again, the warmth from their gazes a gentle embrace that seemed to melt away the barriers you had so carefully constructed around your feelings.

"I'd love that," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "It'll be like a miniature Italian lesson."

Maggie's eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, and she clapped her hands together. "Yay!" she exclaimed, her youthful exuberance infectious.

Kimi leaned in to whisper into your ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Okay, I'll leave you two beauties to it," he said. "But remember, I expect full reports of your language lessons later."

His lips curled into a knowing smile as he pulled away, his eyes holding yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "And please, take care of each other."

With those words hanging in the air like a seductive promise, Kimi turned and strutted out of the room, his confidence a palpable force that seemed to electrify the very air around him, leaving you alone with his sister again.

Maggie's gaze followed him, her eyes filled with a mix of adoration and something else, something that looked suspiciously like mischief. "So," she said, turning to you with a knowing smile, "do you like my brother?"

The question hung in the air, a delicate thread of curiosity that seemed to tug at the fabric of the room itself. You felt your heart race, the warmth from Kimi's touch still lingering on your skin like a lover's brand.

"Kimi?" you asked, playing coy despite the heat that flooded your cheeks. "He's a good teacher," you managed, your voice a soft caress that seemed to resonate with the vibrations of your racing pulse.

Maggie's eyes danced with mirth as she sat down beside you, her youthful energy a stark contrast to the intensity that had filled the room moments ago. "I know," she said, her voice a gentle purr. "But do you like him?"

"Maggie," you began, choosing your words with the same care you would a delicate pastry at an Italian café, "Kimi is more than just a good teacher to me."

Her smile grew wider, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of an untold secret. "I knew it," she whispered, her voice a conspiratorial giggle that tickled your ear. "He talks about you all the time, you know. Like you're some kind of... I dunno, Italian goddess or something."

Your cheeks burned with a blush that could have rivaled the sunset over the Tuscan countryside. "He does?" you whispered back, your voice a tremulous note in the symphony of emotions that played within you.

Maggie nodded eagerly. "All the time," she said, her eyes sparkling like the stars in an Italian summer night. "He says you have a way of making him feel alive, like nothing he's ever felt before."

The words hung in the air, thick with the promise of something more. You felt your heart race, the thrill of his confession echoing in your very soul. "Really?" you murmured, the tremble in your voice belying the tumult of emotions within you.

Maggie nodded, her eyes shining with the excitement of a conspirator. "He says you make him feel like he's home when you're around," she revealed, her voice a whispered secret that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the room.

"And you know what?" she leaned closer, her breath a sweet scent of mint and youthful innocence, "I think he might have a crush on you."

The words hit you like a gentle gust of wind, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. You felt your pulse quicken, the blood rushing through your veins like a river of liquid fire.

"Yeah," you said, trying to keep the excitement from your voice as you began to gather up the scattered pages of Kimi's homework. "Enough gossiping. We have to meet up with your parents to watch the race."

Maggie's smile grew even brighter, her eyes lighting up with the excitement of an impending adventure. "I know, I know," she said, bouncing to her feet with the grace of a gazelle.

Together, you walked to Kimi's garage, the sound of your heels clicking against the pavement a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with the beating of your heart.

As you approached the garage, you saw Kimi and Maggie's parents deep in conversation, their heads tilted towards one another as they spoke in hushed tones.

They were an elegant couple, evident in the sharpness of their features and the warmth of their skin. The mother, a svelte woman with hair as dark as a moonless night, looked up and noticed you first, her eyes lighting up with a smile that was as welcoming as a warm embrace.

"Ah, you must be the one Kimi's been speaking so fondly of," she said, her Italian accent wrapping around the words like a velvet ribbon.

Her voice was like the sound of a cappuccino machine in a quiet café, a comforting hum that seemed to resonate within your very being. She stepped forward, her arms opening to envelop you in a warm hug that smelled faintly of gardenias.

"It's so nice to finally meet you," she said, her accent a siren's call that seemed to weave a spell of comfort and belonging around you. You felt your muscles relax into the embrace, the warmth of her touch seeping into your very bones.

Kimi's father, a man built like a statue chiseled from the very marble that adorned the ancient Italian cities, looked up from his conversation with a proud smile. His eyes, so much like Kimi's, sparkled with the same mischief that you had come to know so well.

"Mamma, Papà, this is..." Maggie paused, a hint of shyness coloring her voice.

"Yes, yes," Kimi's mother interjected, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "We know who she is. Kimi has told us so much about you," she said, her smile reaching out to you like a warm hand. "We're so happy to finally meet the one who has stolen our son's heart."

You felt your own heart stutter in your chest at her words, the warmth of her embrace spreading through you like the first sip of a fine wine. "Signora," you began, your voice a soft crescendo of nerves and excitement, "I don't know what Kimi has been telling you..."

But she waved a hand, her smile a gentle dismissal of your modesty. "Ah, ah," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we know our son. He doesn't speak of just anyone like this."

Her words were a warm embrace that seemed to melt away your doubt, leaving you feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated.

Kimi's parents noticed your arrival, their conversation with themselves trailing off as they turned to face you. The love and pride in their gazes was unmistakable, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had grown between you and their son.

"Ciao," Kimi's father boomed, his deep voice a warm baritone that seemed to fill the garage. He stepped forward, extending a hand that was rough from years of working the cars. "I am Marco," he said, his grip firm and reassuring as you took his hand.

You felt a jolt of something unnameable as your skin met his, the heat of his touch a stark contrast to the cool metal of the garage. His handshake was firm but gentle, a silent promise that you were now a part of their world.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Antonelli," you replied, your voice a soft symphony of nerves and excitement.

Marco's eyes twinkled with mirth as he released your hand. "Call me Marco," he said, his voice a warm bass that seemed to resonate through the garage. "And this," he continued, turning to Kimi, "is the young lady you've been keeping from us?"

Kimi strolled over from his small meeting with Bono, his race engineer, his strides long and purposeful, his eyes lighting up as they landed on you. He was a vision in his fireproof suit, the fiery emblem of the Mercedes team blazing across his chest like a declaration of war.

"Ciao, bella," Kimi greeted, his Italian rolling off his tongue like a lover's caress. His eyes were a tempest of emotions, a mix of excitement for the race and something deeper, something that seemed to resonate in the very air between you.

Marco's smile grew wider as he stepped back, his gaze flicking from you to Kimi and back again, as if he could see the unspoken conversation passing between the two of you.

"We must go," he said, his voice a gentle nudge towards the reality that awaited outside the garage. "The race will begin soon."

Kimi's eyes remained on yours for a moment longer, a silent question lingering in the air. Then, with a nod that seemed to convey a world of unspoken answers, he turned to his father. "Yes, Papà," he said, his voice a rich timbre that seemed to resonate with the anticipation of the race.

He leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to his mother's cheek. "Ciao, Mamma," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'll make you proud today."

Her smile was like a warm embrace as she patted his cheek. "We know you will," she said, her voice filled with a love that seemed to echo through the garage.

You watched as the family shared a moment, feeling like an outsider peering in on a private dance.

Marco slapped his son's back, the sound echoing in the garage like a gunshot. "Vai avanti," he said, a mix of pride and urgency in his voice. "You're going to be late."

Kimi nodded, his eyes still locked on yours, the unspoken promise of something more burning in their depths. He took a step back, the heat of his gaze a palpable force that seemed to cling to your skin like a second skin.

"Vincere per me," you said, the words rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. It was a declaration of intent, a promise that you would win the race, not just for yourself, but for him.

Kimi grinned, his teeth flashing white against the tanned skin of his cheeks. "Of course, bella," he replied, the endearment slipping out as naturally as if you had been lovers for a lifetime.

The warmth of his smile seemed to fill the garage, casting a spell that made everything else fade into the background. His eyes searched yours, a silent conversation passing between you that spoke of desires and promises unspoken.

Kimi's movements were fluid as he slid into the cockpit of his sleek, silver Mercedes, his body melding with the machine as if they were one.

The sound of the engine roaring to life was like the crescendo of an orchestra, a symphony of power and passion that seemed to resonate through every atom of the air. You felt the vibrations in your chest, a thrumming beat that echoed the rhythm of your heart.

He flashed you one last smile, the kind that could make the sun jealous, and then he was gone, speeding away into the bowels of the circuit like a bullet released from a chamber.

You stood with Kimi's family the whole race, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife. The grandstand was a sea of faces, a tapestry of colors, all united in their love for speed and the thrill of the chase.

Maggie's hand was a small, warm presence in yours, her excitement palpable, a heartwarming reminder of the innocence and purity that often accompanied youth.

As the checkered flag waved, the air was pierced by a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the grandstand.

"And for the first time, Kimi Antonelli reaches a podium position!" the commentator's voice boomed through the speakers, sending a wave of euphoria crashing over the crowd. The words echoed in your ears, a sweet symphony of triumph and vindication.

Kimi's parents erupted into cheers, their faces a canvas of unbridled joy as they leaped to their feet. Marco's deep baritone laughter rumbled through the air, his eyes shining with the pride of a man who had seen his son conquer the world.

His wife clutched her chest, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness as she watched her little boy, now a man, stand tall on the podium.

Maggie's hand in yours grew tighter, her nails digging into your palm as she bounced up and down with excitement. The vibrations of her energy seemed to resonate through your body, mingling with the thundering applause that filled the grandstand.

As the race concluded, the whole team, a blur of silver and black, sprinted towards the parc ferme, where Kimi's car would come to a majestic stop in front of the third-place podium.

The sound of their footsteps was a cacophony of victory, each step a declaration of their collective triumph. You watched, transfixed, as the mechanics and engineers, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation, gathered around Kimi's car like bees to honey.

The car, a gleaming silver streak, pulled up to the sign, and the crowd's roar grew deafening as Kimi emerged, a modern-day gladiator stepping out of his metal chariot.

He raised his visor, revealing eyes that shone with the fierce light of a thousand suns. His helmet was plucked off, and his sweat-dampened hair stood on end, a testament to the battle he had just won.

The scent of victory, a heady mix of burning rubber and adrenaline, wafted over the team as they congregated around him. Kimi's eyes scanned the sea of faces, and the moment he spotted you and his family, a grin as wide as the Italian coastline split his face.

He was quick to spot you all, and with a bound fueled by the elation of his victory, he sprinted over, his heart hammering in his chest with excitement and love.

As he neared, the warmth of his presence washed over you, like a gentle Tuscan breeze that brought with it the promise of a summer's evening spent under the stars. His eyes danced from you to Maggie and back again, the love and pride in them a beacon that could guide ships lost at sea.

HIs father was the first to reach Kimi, his arms enveloping his son in a hug that seemed to hold the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

The fabric of Kimi's fireproof suit crunched as his father's embrace tightened, a silent declaration of the bond that had been forged over a lifetime of shared passions and dreams. You watched as Marco whispered something into Kimi's ear, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate with the very essence of pride.

Next was Kimi's mother, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she stepped into the fold of their embrace. Her slender hands rested on Kimi's shoulders, her touch as gentle as the stroke of a feather, yet it seemed to hold him as firmly as any steel embrace.

As she pulled back, she reached for you, her eyes searching yours with a knowing look that seemed to speak of shared secrets and quiet understandings.

Then, it was Maggie's turn. She launched herself into Kimi's arms, her small frame enveloped by his broad chest. Her giggle was a sweet symphony that seemed to hold the very essence of joy.

His arms tightened around her, and you saw the softness in his gaze, a tenderness that was reserved only for those who held his heart.

As she stepped back, her eyes met yours, and she winked, a knowing glint in her gaze. You felt the heat of his stare on you.

And then, there you were, standing before him, the world around you a blur of color and sound. Your heart was a drum in your chest, the rhythm of it echoing the roar of the engines that had just fallen silent.

Kimi stepped away from his family, the warmth of their embrace lingering on him like the scent of their homemade pasta sauce. His eyes locked onto yours, the depth of his gaze a promise that had been simmering since the first time you'd met.

"Bella," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress that seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket.

His arms encircled you, pulling you into a tight embrace that seemed to banish the rest of the world. You felt the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, the scent of his sweat and adrenaline a potent aphrodisiac that made your knees weak.

Hiding your face in the crook of his neck, you inhaled deeply, allowing his scent to fill your lungs and your soul. It was a scent that was uniquely Kimi, a blend of engine oil, leather, and victory.

You didn't dare look up, fearful that the paparazzi lurking just outside the garage would capture the intimacy of this moment and twist it into some salacious headline.

You knew the price of fame, the way it could devour relationships, turning the purest of moments into the fodder for tabloid frenzies.

So, you held onto him, your eyes closed, your heart racing, as you silently prayed that the world would swirl on without noticing the two of you standing there, entangled in a dance of passion and friendship.

The scent of his neck was intoxicating, a blend of cologne and sweat that spoke of his fiery spirit and the intense physicality of the race. It was a scent that was uniquely his, a scent that had been burned into your memory the first time you had been this close to him.

You felt his heart hammering against your chest, a wild, untamed stallion galloping in time with yours.

"Hai vinto nel mio cuore," you murmured into his ear, the words a soft, secret whisper that seemed to resonate through his very soul.

His embrace tightened for a fraction of a second, the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you closer. It meant 'you won in my heart'.

The warmth of his body seemed to seep into yours, a gentle warmth that spread through you like honey on warm bread.

His chest was a wall of solid, unyielding muscle against which your soft curves melded like wax. You felt his heart, beating a staccato rhythm that matched the tempo of your own.

Kimi's chuckle rumbled in his chest, the vibrations sending delightful shivers down your spine. "Only in your heart, bella?" He leaned back slightly, his eyes searching yours, a playful smile dancing across his lips.

"Well," you replied, the words slipping out with the ease of a warm summer breeze, "you've certainly won my respect and admiration today."

Kimi's smile grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a way that made you want to kiss them. "That's a start," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that seemed to stroke the very fabric of your being.

With a gentle nudge, he stepped back, allowing you to breathe. His eyes never left yours as he turned to his team, his voice a mix of gratitude and adrenaline.

The team responded with cheers and slaps on the back, their faces a kaleidoscope of nationalities and emotions, all bound together by the shared victory.

You watched as Kimi moved from one person to the next, his voice a crescendo of gratitude as he thanked each member of his team, his words a balm to their weary souls.

His touch was a gentle reassurance that they were all part of something greater than themselves, a symphony of precision and passion that had just played out on the track.

Each mechanic, engineer, and support staff member beamed under his praise, their eyes shining with the light of a thousand suns.

The garage was a maelstrom of activity around you, yet all you could focus on was the way Kimi's hands moved, the way his fingers danced as he spoke, the way his eyes crinkled with every genuine smile he offered.

The warmth of his skin was still imprinted on yours, and you felt a sudden, overwhelming need to touch him again. The bracelet on your wrist felt like a lifeline connecting you to him, a tangible symbol of the secret bond you shared. . . .

The next week arrived swiftly, bringing with it the Imola Grand Prix, a momentous occasion for him as it marked his first time racing on home soil. A wave of anticipation washed over him as he prepared for the event, fueled by the desire to perform well in front of his countrymen. He knew the pressure would be immense, but he was determined to channel that energy into a strong and memorable performance.

The roar of the crowd was a distant hum, a white noise Kimi barely registered. He was in the zone, a place where the world narrowed down to the vibration of the steering wheel in his hands, the precise pressure of his foot on the accelerator, and the dance between man and machine that defined his life.

He was in the lead. Again.

The words felt foreign, almost unbelievable. Kimi, leading a Grand Prix. It wasn't a common occurrence in his career, a fact that gnawed at him more than he let on. But today, the stars were aligning in a way that felt almost…surreal.

Max had crashed spectacularly with Hamilton, sending sparks and debris flying across the track. Lando was nursing some kind of brake issue, forced to bleed speed into every corner.

Oscar, usually a consistent threat, was struggling with pace, falling further and further behind. One by one, the obstacles had fallen away, leaving Kimi alone at the front.

“Mate, everything is going well, you can win this!” Bono’s voice crackled in his ear, a burst of static in the otherwise focused silence of the cockpit.

Kimi didn't respond. He didn't need the encouragement. He could feel it. The car was responding perfectly. The tires were holding. The gap was growing. He just wanted to finish the race. He just wanted to see you.

He pictured you, sitting nervously in the team garage, your fingers twisting a stray strand of hair around your finger. He knew how much this meant to you, how you'd believed in him even when he'd started to doubt himself.

Your unwavering faith was a constant source of strength, a gentle push in the back when he felt like the weight of the world was pressing down.

That first time you'd tried to learn Italian with Duolingo, you'd been adorably lost. The way your cheeks had flushed when you'd confidently pronounced 'ciao' as 'choa' had made him laugh until his sides hurt.

But it was the determination in your eyes as you'd looked at him for correction that had made him realize he had feelings for you. It was the spark of curiosity, the hunger to learn and grow that mirrored his own passion for racing.

You understood the pressure he was under, the relentless scrutiny, the constant demands of sponsors and team bosses.

You saw past the stoic facade to the man beneath, the man who loved to cook, who enjoyed long walks in the woods, who valued loyalty and honesty above all else.

And somewhere along the way, that understanding had blossomed into something more. A quiet, comfortable love that grounded him, that gave him a reason to keep pushing, even when the races were tough and the defeats were crushing.

Now, with the finish line in sight, that love was his driving force. He wanted to win this for you. To prove to you, and to himself, that he still had it in him. That he could still stand on that top step of the podium and feel the spray of champagne on his face.

Lap after lap, he maintained his lead, his focus unwavering. He ignored Bono’s constant updates, the times of the cars behind him, the changing wind conditions. It was all background noise. All that mattered was the track ahead, the next corner, the next braking point.

He pushed the car to its limits, knowing that a single mistake could cost him everything. He felt the tires begin to degrade, the car starting to slide slightly in the corners, but he held his nerve, adjusting his driving style to compensate.

He could see the checkered flag now, a blur of black and white in the distance. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white, and pushed the accelerator to the floor.

The roar of the engine filled his ears as he crossed the finish line, the crowd erupting in a frenzy of cheers. He had done it. He had won.

He slowed the car down, pulling into the designated area, his heart pounding in his chest. The relief was overwhelming, a wave of emotion that threatened to spill over.

He unbuckled his harness, his hands shaking slightly, and climbed out of the cockpit.

The moment his feet hit the ground, the frenzy began. His team rushed towards him, yelling, pushing against the fence that held them up.

They were a sea of color, a blur of faces and hands reaching for him. He could see the raw excitement in their eyes, the unbridled joy that came from victory.

Kimi took a deep breath, the sweet scent of burnt rubber and gasoline mingling with the cool air. He felt the heat of the car behind him, a testament to the fierce battle he'd just fought. The fence groaned under the pressure of his ecstatic team, their voices a cacophony of congratulations and relief.

"Kimi, Kimi!" They chanted his name like a war cry, their faces flushed and eyes gleaming with excitement. He couldn't help but smile, a rare occurrence on the podium, as he approached the barricade.

Through the chaos of the celebration, his eyes searched for you. Finally, they found you, standing apart from the rest, your face a portrait of shock and disbelief. He could see your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, your eyes wide and shining with unshed tears.

He broke free from the crush of his team, his legs feeling like lead but propelled by the magnetic pull of your presence.

You looked so beautiful, your hair disheveled from the wind, your cheeks flushed with excitement. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride as he approached you, the roar of the crowd a testament to his triumph.

His family, always his first priority, were right beside you. He saw his mother's eyes, filled with the kind of pride that could only come from a mother's love, and his father's firm nod, a silent acknowledgment of a job well done. Maggie, her face a mix of awe and admiration, ready to embrace him.

Kimi stepped through the barricade, the world around him fading into the background. His gaze remained locked on yours as he approached, his heart swelling with every step.

He threw his arms around his mother and father first, feeling the warm embrace of their love envelop him like a warm blanket. They had been there since the start, supporting him through every high and low, and their pride was palpable as they held him tight.

"You did it, son," his father whispered in his ear, his voice gruff with emotion.

Kimi pulled back, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he looked at his parents. The love and support reflected in their faces was the ultimate prize.

He hugged his mother tightly, her familiar scent of lavender and sunscreen bringing him comfort amidst the overwhelming chaos of the race. She kissed his cheek, her warmth seeping into his bones.

His father's embrace was firm, a silent nod of respect and understanding of the beast that was racing, and the battles that came with it.

Maggie was next, her arms wrapping around him with a fierceness that surprised him. Her perfume, a blend of vanilla and jasmine, filled his senses as she whispered congratulations into his ear.

The bond they shared was strong, unyielding, and had only grown stronger through the years. They had been through so much together, and her belief in him had never wavered.

He held her for a moment longer, feeling the tremble in her body as she fought back tears. The emotion of the moment was almost too much to handle, but he knew he had to keep it together. This was for them, for all the sacrifices they had made.

"Your girlfriend was cheering for you the whole time," Maggie muttered into his shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.

He whispered back to Maggie, "She's not my girlfriend yet," his voice low and filled with a hint of mischief.

Maggie pulled back, her eyes searching his, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Yet?" she echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Kimi couldn't help but chuckle, the sound lost in the din of the celebration. He knew what she was implying, but now was not the time to explore that particular avenue of thought.

He had to find you, to share this moment with you, to show you that you were his inspiration, the reason he had pushed so hard.

He broke away from the embrace, his gaze finding yours once again. The distance between them closed in a heartbeat, the electricity of the moment crackling in the air like a live wire. You were frozen in place, your eyes wide and unblinking, as if you couldn't quite believe what was happening.

You looked at him, your eyes brimming with joy, and before you could say a word, he pulled you into his arms. Your body melded into his, fitting perfectly as if it had been made to be there.

His heart raced as he felt your softness pressed against him, the warmth of your embrace a stark contrast to the harshness of the race.

Kimi's hands slid down your back, feeling the curve of your hips and the gentle give of your body beneath your clothes. His fingers found purchase in the fabric of your shirt, his palms feeling the heat of your skin, the tension of your muscles as you held onto him.

You buried your face into his neck, inhaling deeply the scent of his sweat and victory, a heady mix that sent shivers down your spine.

"Thank you," he murmured into your hair, the vibration of his voice sending a thrill through your body. "Thank you for believing in me."

You pulled back, your eyes searching his, looking for any trace of doubt. But all you found was the unbridled passion of a man who had conquered his demons and emerged victorious. "You did it," you whispered, your voice trembling.

He took a deep breath. "May I… can I kiss…"

Before he could finish the question, before doubt could solidify in his mind, you leaned forward. Your lips met his, a soft, hesitant pressure at first, then deepening as he responded.

The rain seemed to fade, the fairy lights blurred, and suddenly, the world was just the two of them, a connection forged in a stolen moment.

The sensations in Kimi's stomach were a swirl of butterflies, a tornado of excitement and anticipation. It was a feeling he knew well from racing, but this was different.

This was a victory of the heart, a win that didn't come with a podium or a trophy, but with the sweet taste of your mouth and the feel of your breath mingling with his own.

Your lips were like a soft pillow, welcoming and familiar, yet charged with an electricity that sent currents through his body. He felt your breath hitch as you deepened the kiss, your hands tentatively moving to his shoulders, then sliding up his neck to tangle in his hair.

It was as if you were trying to hold onto him, afraid that if you didn't, he would vanish into the ether of the moment.

Unfortunately, you pulled back, your eyes searching his with a sudden shyness that was as endearing as it was surprising. His heart skipped a beat as he watched the color rise in your cheeks, the way your gaze darted from his mouth to his eyes and back again.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling a little out of breath, your heart racing from the intensity of the moment. "I shouldn't have—"

But Kimi silenced your protests with a gentle shake of his head. "No," he whispered, his voice a hoarse rumble against your ear. "You're exactly what I needed."

You hadn't meant to kiss him. It was an impulse, a reckless, beautiful mistake. Now, you just had to figure out what to do next.

"You should probably go to your interview," you murmured against his ear, your voice a soft caress as you tried to pull away. But his arms tightened around you, holding you in place.

Kimi's grip was firm but gentle, his hands warm and reassuring on your back as he held you close. "I know," he whispered, his breath hot on your skin. "But I don't want to let you go."

"I promised we'll speak," you said, the words slipping out before you had a chance to think.

"Okay," Kimi grumbled, his arms reluctantly releasing you. His eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Yes, we'll talk," you assured him, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside you. You stepped back, trying to regain some semblance of composure, the feel of his arms around you still lingering like a warm embrace.

Kimi nodded, his eyes never leaving yours, a promise in them that this was far from over.

He stepped back, allowing the press of his team to guide him towards the podium. The flash of cameras and the cacophony of voices grew louder as he approached, but all he could hear was the echo of your heartbeat in his ears.

The interview went by in a blur, questions about his strategy and the race's pivotal moments that felt almost trivial compared to the tumultuous symphony of emotions playing out between you and him.

Yet, he answered with the grace of a seasoned champion, his mind still reeling from your kiss.

Each word was a battle to focus, his eyes straying to the spot where he knew you were standing, holding onto Maggie for support.

The podium ceremony was a whirlwind, a flurry of flashing lights and applause. As the Italian national anthem played, Kimi felt a strange disconnect, his thoughts racing to the conversation you had promised.

He watched as the trophy was hoisted high, the gleaming silver a stark contrast to the vivid colors of the setting sun. The weight of it in his hands was a reminder of what he had achieved, but it was your eyes that he sought, your approval that he craved.

He looked down at the sea of faces, a blend of sponsors, team members, and fans. And there you were, nestled among them, holding onto Maggie like a lifeline.

She looked up at him, her smile proud and knowing, giving him a subtle nod of encouragement. You were a vision, your hair a wild mane in the breeze, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and your grip on Maggie's hand a silent declaration of your own victory.

The Italian fans had gone wild. The air was thick with the scent of their excitement, a potent mix of sweat, passion, and victory.

They yelled and screamed, waving flags and banners, their voices a symphony of pride and jubilation. They were his countrymen, and their roars of approval were music to his ears.

Kimi looked out into the stands, his heart swelling with emotion. The tifosi, the Italian fans, were a force unto themselves. They were notorious for their unyielding support of their own, and tonight, they were in full voice.

He could see the undulating sea of red, white, and green, a tapestry of love and national pride that stretched as far as the eye could see.

The podium was a cacophony of noise as the champagne bottles were popped, the sound echoing through the air like a string of mini explosions.

The golden liquid arced through the sky, catching the last rays of the setting sun and casting a shimmering shower of light that bathed the podium in an ethereal glow.

The moment the podium interviews ended, Kimi was whisked away to the cooldown room, his body still humming with the high of victory.

He could feel the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, leaving in its wake a tremor in his hands that he hadn't noticed before. His heart was still racing, but it wasn't just from the race anymore.

It was the kiss, the promise in your eyes, and the unspoken words that hung in the air like an unresolved chord in a symphony.

The cooldown room was a stark contrast to the chaotic energy outside, a sanctum of white and chrome that gleamed under the harsh lights.

The air was cooler here, a welcome respite from the heat of the podium. He sat down, the chair a strange embrace after the tight confines of his race seat, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the tumult of his emotions.

In the corner, Charles and George, who had secured second and third place, were already watching the race highlights, their faces a mix of exhaustion and elation. They looked over at him as he entered, raising their bottles of water in silent salute.

The three of them sat down in front of the large screen, their eyes glued to the replay of the race that had just unfolded. They watched as Kimi's car sliced through the pack, a sleek and deadly predator hunting down its prey.

The commentators were gushing with praise for his driving, their voices rising and falling with the tension of the race.

Charles, his cheeks flushed with the exertion of his own battle for second place, leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Mate, that was incredible," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "You had the car dancing today."

George nodded in agreement, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Couldn't agree more. That overtake on Turn 3 was sheer poetry," he added, referring to Kimi's daring move that had secured his victory.

"Thanks, guys," he said, his voice a little rough. "Couldn't have done it without the team."

He took a swig of water, the cool liquid sliding down his dry throat. His eyes never left the screen, watching the replay of his victory lap, the car snaking through the track like a serpent celebrating its triumph.

The media scrum was a beast he knew all too well. It waited outside the cooldown room, a sea of eager faces, microphones, and cameras ready to devour every morsel of his triumph.

They would ask about his strategy, his thoughts on the race, and the inevitable questions about his future in the sport. But all he could think about was you.

As he stepped into the fray, the questions bombarded him from all sides, a cacophony of voices that seemed to blur together into a single, insistent drone. He felt a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the designated spot.

The team's PR manager, a tall, elegant woman with a no-nonsense air, whispered a few words of encouragement in his ear. He nodded, a forced smile plastered on his face, as he faced the barrage of questions with the practiced ease of a man who had done this countless times before.

"Kimi," a journalist from the front row shouted, waving a microphone in the air. "What does this victory mean to you?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching the crowd for any sign of you. "It means everything," he said, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions still coursing through him. "But without my team behind me, it would have been impossible."

The questions kept coming, a relentless wave of inquiries about the race, the strategy, and his feelings on the podium. Yet, all he could think about was the taste of your lips, the way your body had felt against his, and the promise of what could be.

"Kimi, can you tell us about the final laps, when you knew you had it in the bag?" a journalist with a thick Italian accent called out, her voice eager to capture the drama of the moment.

He took a deep breath, the memory of the race still pulsing through his veins. "It was about the last ten laps when I knew I had a good shot at it," he replied, his eyes distant, lost in the replay of the moments that had led to his victory. "The car was perfect, and I just had to stay focused and keep pushing."

The questions kept coming, a relentless wave of words that he navigated with the skill of a linguist. Yet, his mind was elsewhere, replaying the sensation of your touch, the way your body had leaned into his during that spontaneous kiss.

It was like a secret shared only by the two of you amidst the chaos, a silent promise that echoed through his soul.

When Kimi was finally able to escape the media and the swarm of reporters, the first place he went was the family waiting area.

He walked down the corridor, the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline fading into the background as he approached.

His heart raced not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the anticipation of seeing you. His steps were quick, almost a jog, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of you.

The family waiting area was a stark contrast to the chaotic garage. It was a serene oasis of white leather couches and chrome accents, designed to give drivers and their loved ones a moment of peace before and after the race. The doors slid open, revealing a space bustling with energy, filled with his family.

But you weren't there.

The realization hit him like a blow to the gut. His eyes searched the room, desperate for a glimpse of your familiar form, the way you'd stand with your hands clasped tightly in front of you when you were nervous.

His heart sank as he saw only unfamiliar faces, a sea of congratulations that washed over him without touching the core of his being.

"Kimi!" His mother's voice broke through the haze, her arms open wide, her eyes shining with joy. He forced himself to move, to hug her, to accept the praise and love of his family, but his thoughts remained focused on you, the woman who had become the very air he breathed.

"Where's y/n?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, the question slipping out before he could catch it. His father's proud smile faltered for a moment, his gaze shifting to Maggie, who looked equally puzzled.

Maggie, ever the diplomat, stepped in, her eyes flicking towards the exit. "She said she had to go to the bathroom," she replied, her voice carefully neutral. Kimi's heart sank. Had he read the situation wrong? Was she upset? Or was she just overwhelmed?

He excused himself, the warm embrace of his family's congratulations feeling like a cocoon of well wishes that he was desperate to break free from.

His eyes searched the corridor, looking for any sign of your retreating form. The sound of his heart was the only thing he could hear above the din of the celebration, a thunderous rhythm that matched his steps as he moved away from the safety of the waiting area.

The hallways of the paddock were a blur, the faces of team members and officials passing by in a whirl of congratulations and handshakes.

He nodded and smiled, his mind racing, trying to piece together where you could have gone. The bathroom? Too obvious. To the garage to watch the podium from a distance? Perhaps.

But something in his gut told him you needed space, needed time to process the intensity of what had just happened between them.

He found it hard to believe that he had actually won. The victory felt surreal, as if it were a dream that could shatter at any moment. Yet, the kiss you had shared was very real.

The way your lips had moved against his, the gentle pressure of your hand on his neck, the softness of your skin under his touch—it was burned into his memory like the tire marks on the asphalt of Monza.

Kimi made his way through the garage, the sound of his boots echoing through the vast space. The team was busy dismantling cars and discussing strategy, but he barely noticed them.

His eyes scanned the area, looking for a flash of your hair, a glimpse of your smile. His heart thudded in his chest with each step, the anticipation growing with every passing moment.

Finally, he reached his driver's room. The door was slightly ajar, the dim light spilling into the corridor like an invitation. He pushed it open gently, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that greeted him.

There you were, curled up on the sofa, fast asleep. The softness of your features, the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, the peacefulness of your slumber—it was like a painting, a moment captured in time that he never wanted to forget.

You looked so vulnerable, so beautiful. The weight of the world had been lifted from your shoulders, and in your sleep, you were free from the worries of the day. Kimi's heart swelled with an emotion he couldn't quite name.

He stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving your peaceful form. The scent of leather and oil was a familiar comfort, a stark contrast to the chaos of the podium. The air was cooler here, a gentle whisper that carried the faint scent of your perfume, a sweet and subtle floral note that made his stomach flutter.

As he approached, the shadows played across your face, highlighting the dark circles under your eyes.

He knew you hadn't slept well the night before, plagued by worries about your mother's reaction to your Italian lessons.

The quiet click of the door closing behind him was the only sound in the room. He approached you slowly, his steps measured and deliberate, not wanting to disturb your peaceful slumber.

As he got closer, he could see the worry etched into your features, the tension in your forehead, the tightness of your mouth.

He reached out, his hand hovering over your shoulder, the warmth of your body radiating through your shirt. He could feel the pulse of your heart beating in time with his own, a silent rhythm that connected them in a way that was more profound than any podium finish.

He brushed a lock of hair from your cheek, the softness of your skin sending a shiver down his spine.

Kimi took a deep breath, his senses filling with the sweet scent of your perfume. He knew he should leave you be, that you needed your rest, but the pull was too strong. He had to be near you, to feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

He sat down on the edge of the sofa, his body aching from the race, the adrenaline that had fueled him now dissipating into a gentle hum of contentment. He watched you sleep, his mind racing with thoughts of the future, of what could be.

The gentle thrum of the air conditioning was the only sound in the room, a white noise that seemed to echo the rhythm of his thoughts. He knew he should be celebrating, reveling in the victory, but all he wanted was to hold you, to feel your heart beat against his chest.

With a silent sigh, he slid onto the couch, his body moving with a grace that belied his exhaustion. He eased himself down, the leather cool against his skin, the cushions molding to his frame as if they had been waiting for him all along. His eyes never left you, the curve of your body a siren's call that beckoned him closer.

The couch was big enough for the two of you, a silent invitation to share in this moment of triumph. He reached out, his hand brushing against the warmth of your shoulder.

The fabric of your shirt was soft under his touch, the heat of your skin seeping through, a silent promise of the warmth you offered.

Slowly, so as not to wake you, he slid closer, his body aligning with yours, his legs stretching out alongside yours. He leaned in, the scent of your hair filling his senses, a sweet, vanilla scent that was as intoxicating as the smell of victory.

The couch was a sanctuary, a place where the outside world couldn't reach them. He could feel the tension in your body, even in sleep, the weight of the world still pressing down on your shoulders.

His own muscles ached, a symphony of pain that was a reminder of the battle he had just fought and won.

He slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, the heat of your body a balm to his soul. He could feel your breath against his neck, the soft exhale a comforting lullaby that soothed the beast inside him. His eyes closed, and for the first time that day, Kimi allowed himself to relax, to let the tension bleed out of him.

He didn't know what would happen when you woke up, but for now, he was content to simply exist in this moment, the two of you entwined, the world outside forgotten. . . .

Your senses were a jumbled symphony as you gradually surfaced from the velvety depths of sleep. The scent of burnt rubber and the faint aroma of victory champagne lingered in the air, intertwined with the rich, earthy musk that was unmistakably Kimi.

His arms were a warm, comforting vice around you, his breathing steady and deep, as if he were lost in the most peaceful of dreams. You didn't dare move, fearing the spell might be broken, the reality of his embrace evaporating like mist under the glare of the morning sun.

Kimi's features were relaxed in slumber, the tension of the race and the weight of his historic victory seemingly forgotten as he lay beside you.

His dark lashes brushed against his flushed cheeks with every exhale, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest made your own heart stutter with an unfamiliar rhythm.

The soft light filtering through the hotel curtains cast a warm glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of perspiration that still clung to him from the night's triumph and celebration. You studied the contours of his face, the way his full lips parted slightly, the stubble on his jaw that was just the right amount of rough.

His hair, usually meticulously styled, was a wild tangle of brown locks, sticking to his forehead in the most endearing way. The sight of him, so unguarded and vulnerable, made you feel an unyielding wave of tenderness and desire.

Your fingers itched to trace the line of his jaw, to feel the coarse stubble under your fingertips, but you held back, not wanting to disturb him.

The last time you had seen him, your mouth had been on his, tasting the sweetness of victory and the salt of his skin. Now, in the quiet aftermath of passion and glory, you felt a strange mix of emotions—elation at his success, awe at the depth of your connection, and a hint of fear that this moment might never come again.

But for now, you were content to simply be there, in the sanctuary of his arms, with the promise of the dawn just outside the window and the warmth of his love enveloping you like a blanket.

As the room slowly brightened, the whispers of daybreak painted shadows across Kimi's features, revealing the stark beauty of his profile.

His chest, a landscape of sculpted muscles and scars from past battles on the track, rose and fell with each breath, a silent symphony of life and vitality. The room was filled with a gentle hum of contentment, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric as his fingers flexed against your bare shoulder.

You hadn't been sleeping well for days, the excitement and nervousness of speaking to your mother in her native language in a few days. So, when he had been called away for his media duties, you had seen it as an opportunity to grab some much-needed rest.

As you stirred to consciousness, the unmistakable weight of his presence beside you sent a jolt of surprise through your body. You had not expected to find Kimi here, not after he had left earlier to face the barrage of questions and flashing lights.

Yet, here he was, his hand resting protectively on your waist, his leg thrown over yours in a possessive tangle that spoke of deep trust and comfort.

The heat from his body seeped into you, warming you from within, as your senses slowly sharpened to the world outside the cocoon of Kimi's drivers room.

Kimi then moved, his hand sliding down to the small of your back, his touch featherlight and electric. You held your breath, your heart hammering in anticipation, but his eyes remained closed, his breathing unchanged. His fingertips traced the curve of your hip, sending a shiver down your spine, as if he was unconsciously mapping the territory of your body.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Kimi's eyes began to open. The thick lashes lifted, revealing the warm whiskey hue of his irises. 

For a moment, there was a dazzling clarity to his gaze, as if he were seeing you for the very first time. The room, the race, the victory—it all melted away as he took you in.

As he blinked away the last remnants of sleep, a lazy smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he whispered, "Good morning," his voice a smoky rumble that resonated through your core.

"I think it's the evening, Kimi," you joked quietly, a playful twinkle in your eye as you glanced at the clock, the digits blinking an indecipherable message.

Kimi's eyes snapped open, the smile on his lips deepening as he took in the sight of you. "Ah, evening," he murmured, the word rolling off his tongue with a hint of amusement.

"Were you looking for me before?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that seemed to resonate in the quiet air.

Kimi's smile grew more pronounced, his eyes finally focusing on you with a warmth that seemed to set your very soul alight. He took a moment to process your question, the gears of his thoughts whirring behind those mesmerizing eyes.

"Before what?" he responded, his voice still thick with the residue of sleep.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his groggy state, the sound a soft, musical note that danced in the air around you. "Before you came back to the room," you clarified, the memory of his earlier departure still lingering.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a flicker of understanding crossing his features as he pieced together the timeline of the night. "Ah," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through your very bones.

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, the stubble of his cheek a delightful abrasion that sent a shiver down your spine. "I was," he admitted, his breath warm against your lips. "Couldn't stay away from you. You're like a gravitational pull, always drawing me back."

His words were simple, devoid of grand pronouncements or poetic metaphors, but their sincerity resonated deeply within you. Kimi wasn't one for empty words. When he said something, he meant it with every fiber of his being.

His eyes wandered onto your teal dress. "Did I ever say you look beautiful in this dress?" he asked, his gaze lingering on the way the fabric flowed around your curves.

You felt your cheeks warm at the memory of when he had first seen you in it. "You might have mentioned it," you replied with a coy smile, your heart skipping a beat.

Kimi's hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the skin just beneath your eye. "You always do," he said, his voice a gentle rumble that sent a delicious thrill down your spine.

The room was suffused with a warm glow, the light from the setting sun casting a soft halo around his head. The shadows grew longer, stretching across the rumpled couch, highlighting the contours of his bodysuit, the strong lines of his shoulders and chest. His eyes searched yours, a silent question in their depths.

"Does your family know that we're here?" you asked, your voice a whisper in the cocoon of quiet that surrounded you.

"Ah, i was looking for you so much that i forget to tell them i found you," Kimi replied, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Your heart fluttered at his admission, his Italian accent wrapping around the words like a caress. You felt a rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the champagne and everything to do with the way he looked at you—like you were the prize he had been chasing all along, and not just the victory trophy.

"It's like 10pm now," you muttered, the reality of time slipping through your fingers like sand. The race had ended hours ago, yet it felt like mere moments since you had been lost in the whirlwind of his victory.

"Mamma mia," Kimi groaned, his hand still resting on your hip as he sat up with a stretch, his muscles rippling under the tight confines of his bodysuit.

You mirrored his movement, your own body protesting after hours of inactivity. You looked outside the window and realized the world had moved on without you, the inky blackness of night having descended outside. The only illumination came from the distant city lights that twinkled like stars scattered across the velvet sky.

"We've been asleep for hours," you murmured in disbelief, your voice a soft caress that seemed to float in the air.

Kimi's gaze never left yours as he nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile that was as warm as the afternoon sun in Sicily. "You needed it," he said, his thumb making lazy circles on your skin. "You've been so tense lately."

You couldn't deny it. The upcoming conversation with your mother had been weighing on your mind like a lead balloon. But here, in Kimi's arms, it all felt so far away, as if the world had stopped turning just for a brief moment to allow you this stolen slice of happiness.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice a soft sigh that seemed to melt into the air. "For everything."

Kimi's eyes searched yours, his thumb continuing its gentle dance on your skin. "What for?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his hand spreading through your body like wildfire. "For helping me learn Italian," you said, your voice a soft crescendo of emotion. "And for giving me back my confidence."

Kimi's smile grew more earnest, his eyes crinkling at the edges. He leaned in closer, his breath a warm whisper against your ear. "It was nothing," he murmured. "Your beauty and strength are all your own. I just helped you remember them."

His hand slipped away from your cheek, reaching for yours. But as you went to take it, you paused. "Flattery won't get you anywhere Antonelli," you said, your voice playful but firm as you picked up your bag, the warmth of his hand a sudden absence that sent a shiver down your spine.

Kimi's smile didn't falter, his eyes still holding yours as he leaned back against the couch cushions. "But it's not flattery," he protested, his accent thick and tantalizing. "It's the truth. You're like a fine wine, only getting better with time."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the room as you slung your bag over your shoulder. "Smooth, but still not going to work," you teased, taking a step away from the comfort of his touch. The coolness of the air was a stark contrast to the heat he emanated, and you felt the sudden urge to return to his embrace.

Kimi watched you with a knowing smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he sat up, stretching his long limbs like a cat rousing from a nap. "Ah, but you know I mean it," he said, his voice a low purr that seemed to resonate in the very marrow of your bones.

"Come on, don't you have a family to find?" you asked, trying to lighten the mood, a playful lilt in your voice.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a spark of mischief lighting up the whiskey hue. "Eh, they probably went home," he replied with a nonchalant shrug, the fabric of his bodysuit stretching with the movement. "They know I like to sleep after the race."

You couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head at his incorrigible charm. "They're going to be worried about you," you pointed out, the playfulness in your tone belying the concern you felt for him.

Kimi's gaze never left yours as he slowly rose to his feet, the fabric of his bodysuit clinging to his form like a second skin. "They know I'm in good hands," he said, the words a gentle caress that sent a shiver down your spine.

"You think you can get what you want after winning one race?" you replied, a playful smirk dancing on your lips.

"I'd hope so," Kimi grinned, his teeth flashing white against the darkened room. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he took a step closer, closing the distance between you.

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls, as you grabbed his hands and pulled him up. His muscles, still warm from the race, bunched under your fingers as he stood, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the floor.

"Come on," you said, your voice a teasing purr that seemed to dance around the room. "Let's get your delusional ass back home."

Kimi's laughter rumbled in his chest, a rich, full sound that made your heart swell with affection. He allowed you to pull him to his feet, his fingers tightening around yours briefly before releasing. You felt the loss of his touch like a gust of cold wind, but the warmth of his smile was more than enough to keep you from shivering.

"Let me go get changed and then we can go," he said, his voice a smoky promise that had your heart racing. You watched as he disappeared into the en suite bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound of running water and the rustle of clothing filled the silence, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was doing in there. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

The ring of his phone pierced through the quiet, and you reached over to grab it from the nightstand, your heart skipping a beat when you saw it was his mom. "Kimi, your mom is calling," you called out, your voice echoing through the steamy bathroom.

Kimi's muffled response came through the shower curtain. "Can you answer it?" The urgency in his tone was palpable, his voice tinged with a hint of nerves that was foreign to the usually unflappable racer.

You picked up the phone, feeling the weight of his trust in your hand. The screen glowed with his mother's name, the very woman whose language you had been so meticulously preparing to conquer. The call to action was a stark reminder of the real world waiting outside the sanctuary of his arms.

"Ciao, Signora Antonelli," you greeted, your voice a soft melody that carried through the phone's speaker. The Italian words felt strange and yet oddly familiar, as if they had been coaxed from a dormant part of your soul.

Kimi's mother's voice was a flurry of warmth and concern. "Ah! Y/n! Non mi ero accorto che eri ancora con mio figlio," she exclaimed, a blend of surprise.

"Sorry," you murmured into the phone, your cheeks flushing. "Mi sono addormentato nella sua cabina di guida, non volevo trattenerlo. Ora sta facendo la doccia e sta tornando a casa."

Kimi's mother's laugh was warm and comforting, the sound wrapping around you like a blanket. "Non preoccuparti," she said, her words a soothing balm to your nerves. "Sono contenta che tu abbia riposato un po'. Kimi ha detto che sembri stanco in questi giorni."

You couldn't help but smile at her maternal concern, feeling a sudden kinship with her. "Lo ero," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could censor them. "Ma adesso mi sento meglio."

Her response was a delightful tapestry of Italian that you only partially understood, but the love in her tone was universal. "Ma lasciami indovinare, anche lui si è addormentato?" she asked, her voice a warm caress over the phone line.

The question hung in the air, a gentle tease wrapped in the velvet of her words. "Sí, siamo tutti e due un po' stanchi," you replied, hoping the truth wasn't too evident in your voice.

Kimi's mother's laughter spilled over the line, a rich, warm sound that made you feel as if she were in the room with you, sharing the moment. "Ah, che bello," she said, her voice a soothing balm to the nerves you hadn't realized you had. "Ma Kimi è sempre in movimento. Non so come fa a rimanere sveglio."

You chuckled, the sound a little too loud in the quiet room. "Lui ha una forza incredibile," you agreed, the words slipping from your tongue with surprising ease. It felt natural, speaking Italian to this woman who had given birth to the man you had come to love.

"Comunque, per favore, di' a Kimi di tornare subito a casa." she said, the warmth in her voice now tinged with urgency. "Dobbiamo ancora fare una festa in famiglia."

"Va bene signora Antonelli," you said, a smile playing on your lips.

The call ended with her final laugh, and you set the phone down, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. You had managed to have a conversation with Kimi's mother without any major linguistic mishaps.

The bathroom door opened with a soft click, and a cloud of steam billowed out, carrying with it the scent of Kimi's spicy aftershave.

He emerged from the mist like a Greek god, his skin glistening with moisture, his hair slicked back from his face, showcasing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones. The black tee clung to his still-damp torso like a second skin, tracing the contours of his chiseled abs and broad shoulders, while the dark trousers hugged the muscular curves of his legs.

Kimi looked like a man who had just conquered the world—and in a way, he had. The victory earlier in the day was etched in every line of his body, in the proud tilt of his chin, the way his eyes shone with an inner light that could outshine the neon of the Vegas strip outside.

He padded barefoot across the plush carpet, droplets of water clinging to his skin, shimmering like diamonds in the dim light of the hotel suite. The way the fabric of his black tee hugged his form was a delicious sight, revealing the play of muscles across his chest and the flat plane of his stomach. His dark trousers hung low on his hips, hinting at the V of his pelvis.

You watched him, unable to tear your eyes away, as he approached you, his movements liquid and predatory. The warmth of the shower had brought a flush to his cheeks, and his eyes, those whiskey-colored pools of passion, were fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart stumble in your chest.

"What did my mom say?" he asked, his voice a low, velvety rumble that seemed to resonate through the very air around you.

You took a deep breath, savoring the scent of his aftershave, a heady mix of spice and musk that was uniquely Kimi. "She said she's happy I've been helping you rest, but you should get back for your family celebration."

His gaze held yours, the warmth of his smile reaching out to you like a gentle caress. "And how was your conversation with her?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble that seemed to vibrate through your very bones.

You felt a sudden rush of emotion, the weight of his question more profound than you had anticipated. "It was... good," you replied, the words a whispered confession. "It felt good to talk to her in Italian."

Kimi's smile grew broader, his eyes lighting up with a proud spark. "You sounded amazing," he said, the sincerity in his voice making your cheeks flush with heat.

"Thank you, we should get going," you said, trying to keep the tremor from your voice.

Kimi nodded, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Grazie," he murmured, his voice a warm caress that sent a thrill down your spine. "You've been working so hard."

You looked up at Kimi, his damp hair still hanging in his eyes, and felt a surge of affection so intense it almost brought tears to your eyes. "Thanks to my teacher," you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

The engineers and staff that had been working tirelessly around the car looked up as Kimi's smile grew wider, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

"Thank you, all of you," he called out, his Italian accent thick and warm as he clapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the vast, empty space of the garage. "Couldn't have done it without you."

The remaining engineers and staff looked up from their tasks, a mix of weariness and pride etched on their faces as they returned his smile. They had been Kimi's rock through the season, the unsung heroes behind the scenes who had made his victory possible.

"Ciao ragazzi," he said, his voice carrying a hint of the exhaustion that lurked just beneath the surface. Despite the fatigue, his eyes held a fiery determination, a promise that the celebration of this win would be one to remember.

With a nod to the remaining crew, Kimi led the way out of the garage and into the parking lot, his hand sliding into yours with a familiar ease that sent a jolt of electricity up your arm. The cool evening air was a stark contrast to the warmth of the garage, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

The parking lot was a maze of shadows and reflections, the only light coming from the flickering streetlamps and the distant glow of the city beyond. Kimi's car sat in the corner, a beacon of luxury in the sea of concrete and metal.

The coolness of the night was a stark contrast to the warmth of Kimi's hand in yours as you approached the sleek, black sports car. His grip was firm, his thumb tracing circles on your skin in a gesture that was both reassuring and electrifying.

Kimi opened the passenger door with a flourish, his eyes never leaving yours. The motion was so smooth, so practiced, it was like watching a ballet dancer perform a perfect pirouette. You slid into the seat with a sigh, the leather cool against your bare legs. The scent of the car's interior was a heady mix of leather and his cologne, a scent that had come to symbolize safety and desire.

He moved around the car with the same grace, his movements fluid and economical, every gesture a silent symphony of intent. The door shut with a soft thunk, sealing you both inside. The engine roared to life with a purr that seemed to resonate through your very soul, the vibration a delicious promise of the power that lay just beneath your fingertips.

Kimi's hand slid from yours to the gear stick, his fingers wrapping around it with a confidence that made your stomach flip. He shifted into gear and the car surged forward, the tires biting into the asphalt as he navigated the winding path out of the circuit.

You watched his profile, the sharp lines of his jaw and the firm set of his mouth, the way his eyes never left the road. It was a stark contrast to the tender way he had held you in his arms just moments ago, the gentle caress of his thumb on your skin.

"Are you free tomorrow?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet hum of the car's engine.

The question hung in the air, thick with implication, like the scent of his cologne that lingered in the enclosed space. You turned to look at him, his eyes focused on the road ahead, the streetlights casting a warm glow on the stubble of his jaw.

"Tomorrow?" you repeated, the word echoing in the quiet. It was a simple question, but the anticipation in his voice was palpable, a silent promise of something more than just a casual get-together.

"Yes," he said, his gaze never leaving the road ahead, but his hand tightening on the gear stick, a subtle hint of his excitement.

You felt the weight of his answer in the air, a silent promise that hung between you like a ripe fruit waiting to be plucked. "What did you have in mind?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that seemed to dance around the edges of the car's cabin.

Kimi's smile grew more pronounced, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mischief as he finally turned to look at you, his gaze lingering on your face. "I want to show you something," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of the car. "It's a surprise."

"A surprise?" You couldn't help but echo his words, your heart racing with excitement. Kimi's surprises were always... unexpected.

"Mm-hmm," he hummed, his eyes flicking back to the road as he expertly maneuvered the car through the quiet streets. His smile grew, the kind that made your stomach flip-flop and your skin tingle with anticipation. "I think you'll like it."

Your heart raced at the thought of what could be in store for tomorrow. The way his eyes lit up, the excitement in his voice, it was infectious. "Kimi, you know I trust you," you murmured, leaning back into the seat, your eyes never leaving his profile.

He glanced over at you, his smile widening. "Good," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very core. "Because it's going to be something special."

The ride to your house was indeed quick, a blur of neon lights and darkened streets that seemed to fly by as Kimi's car ate up the asphalt beneath it. His driving was masterful, his hands firm on the wheel, his eyes never straying from the road ahead.

The leather seats hugged your body, the scent of his cologne mingling with the new car smell, creating a heady cocktail that intoxicated you further. You watched his profile, the way the passing streetlights played across the sharp planes of his face, casting him in an ever-changing palette of shadows and light. His jaw was set, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he navigated the maze of Italian streets.

The engine purred beneath you, a living entity that responded to his every touch. You could feel the power of the car, the beast that had carried him to victory, now carrying you both away from the chaos of the day's events. The tension in the air was palpable, a potent mix of exhaustion and desire that seemed to thicken with every passing mile.

As Kimi pulled up to the curb in front of your house, the car's headlights painted a warm, golden path across the cobblestone street, briefly illuminating the ivy that crawled up the ancient brick walls. The windows glowed with a soft light, casting a warm, welcoming beacon into the night.

Your heart fluttered as you realized the significance of the moment. This wasn't just a casual drop-off. This was Kimi bringing you home after the most incredible day of your life—his historic victory and the sweet promise of tomorrow's surprise.

The car's engine purred to a stop, the sudden silence echoing in the narrow Italian street. Kimi's hand slid from the gear stick to yours, his warmth seeping into your skin like a healing balm.

"Kimi," you whispered, the name a prayer on your lips as you turned to face him. "Thank you."

With a gentle nod, Kimi opened the car door for you, the cool night air rushing in to mingle with the warmth of the interior. He stepped out and came around to your side, his movements a silent poetry of masculine grace. The way he held the door open, his hand lingering on the frame, was a silent declaration of chivalry in a world that often forgot such things.

As you slid out of the car, the leather whispered against your skin, leaving an imprint of comfort that lingered like a ghostly embrace. Kimi's hand found the small of your back, guiding you up the cobblestone path to the heavy wooden door of your house. The warmth of his touch seemed to seep into your very bones, chasing away the last vestiges of the evening's chill.

He waited patiently as you fumbled with your keys, the tension between you growing as palpable as the scent of his victory still clinging to his skin.

Once the door swung open, you turned around to face him, his eyes burning into yours with a fierce intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his gaze seemed to melt the last of your resistance, leaving you feeling as vulnerable as a butterfly pinned to a board.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Kimi," you murmured, your voice a soft caress in the velvety silence of the night. The words hung in the air, a promise of more to come, a sweet agony that made your pulse race.

With a gentle tug, you drew him closer, your hand sliding up to cradle the strong line of his neck. His eyes searched yours, the whiskey warmth deepening as he leaned in, the anticipation a palpable force that seemed to electrify the very air between you.

Your pulse hammered in your ears as your lips met, the kiss a soft, lingering caress that spoke of unspoken truths and unbridled desire. The scent of his skin, a potent blend of sweat and victory, filled your senses, making you dizzy with longing.

Kimi's hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer, the heat of his body a warm embrace that seemed to chase away the last remnants of doubt and fear.

You melted into him, your body fitting against his as if it were made to do so, his muscular chest a wall of protection and desire that made your knees weak.

With a gentle nudge, you managed to pull away, smiling up at him through eyes glazed with desire. "I'll see you tomorrow," you whispered again, your voice a siren's call that seemed to echo in the night.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, his smile mirroring yours as he stepped back, allowing you the space to breathe. "I'll be counting the minutes," he murmured, his voice a warm caress that seemed to follow you as you stepped into the house.

The door closed behind you with a soft click, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night like a final note in a symphony. You leaned against the cool wood, your heart racing, the taste of him still lingering on your lips. . . .

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The remnants of yesterday still clung to you like the scent of champagne and burning rubber. Sleep had been a fleeting visitor, chased away by the racing thoughts that consumed you. Kimi's win, the roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, the taste of his lips…twice. It was all a dizzying, exhilarating blur. He had finally done it. He was on top of the podium, victorious. And you were there, right beside him. And then, the surprise. He hadn’t given you any details, just a mischievous glint in his eyes and a promise that you wouldn't be disappointed.

Four o'clock. He’d texted you the time with typical Kimi brevity. It was perfect, really. 2 PM felt like an eternity away, but it gave you ample time to prepare. You wanted to look…effortless, but also breathtaking. It was a ridiculous paradox, but you were determined to achieve it.

The shower was long and luxurious, the hot water washing away the last vestiges of sleep. You shaved your legs with extra care, smoothing on a fragrant body lotion afterwards. In the mirror, you saw a reflection that seemed brighter, more vibrant than usual. You were alive, truly alive, and it was all because of him.

Makeup came next. You opted for a natural look, a soft blush, a touch of mascara, and a hint of gloss on your lips, the same lips that Kimi had kissed, twice. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the memory.

Your hair was a bit more challenging. You finally decided on loose waves, pinning a few strands back to keep them out of your face. You felt a pang of insecurity as you stared at your reflection. Were you good enough for him? He was a world-class athlete, a champion, a veritable ice man to the world. What did he see in you?

You pushed the doubts away. He had kissed you, hadn't he? He had invited you to share in his victory. He wanted you, and that was all that mattered right now.

The dress you chose was a simple, elegant affair. Knee-length, in a shade of soft blue that complemented your eyes. It was comfortable, yet flattering, and you knew Kimi would appreciate its understated charm. You paired it with delicate silver sandals and a small clutch.

And then, the waiting began.

You paced the apartment, a whirlwind of nervous energy. You checked your watch every few minutes, the hands seeming to move with agonizing slowness. You tried to distract yourself by reading, but the words swam before your eyes. You tried listening to music, but every song seemed to be about love, loss, and longing, only amplifying your anxiety.

What could the surprise be? A romantic dinner? A weekend getaway? Could it be… something more? The thought sent a jolt of panic through you. Were you ready for something serious? You hadn't known Kimi for very long, but the connection between you felt undeniable, powerful.

You replayed the events of yesterday in your mind. The way he had looked when he crossed the finish line, the pure, unadulterated joy on his face. The way he had held you close during the celebrations, his hand warm against your back. The way he had looked at you, his eyes filled with…what? Affection? Desire? Something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher.

You remembered the kisses. The first, spontaneous and charged with adrenaline, a celebration of his victory. The second, softer, more tender, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that were blossoming between you.

You were lost in these thoughts when a knock echoed through the apartment. Your heart leaped into your throat. This was it. You grabbed your bag, took a deep breath, and walked towards the door. Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the handle. You opened the door, and there he was.

Kimi Antonelli, standing on your doorstep, looking impossibly handsome. He was wearing a suit, a dark, impeccably tailored suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and lean physique. But it was the absence of a tie that struck you. It was a subtle detail, but it somehow made him seem more approachable, more… vulnerable.

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile that lit up his face. "You ready?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat. He held out his hand, and you took it, your fingers interlacing with his. His touch sent a wave of warmth through you, instantly calming your nerves.

"Where are we going?" you managed to ask, as he led you down the hallway.

"It's a surprise," he repeated, his eyes twinkling. "But I promise, you'll like it."

You didn't press him further. You were content to be in his presence, to feel the warmth of his hand in yours. You followed him out of the building and into a waiting car.

The drive was a blur. You were too busy stealing glances at Kimi, admiring the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his jaw was set with determination. He seemed focused, almost…nervous? It was an unfamiliar expression on his face, and it intrigued you.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you leaned back in your seat and began to ask questions. "Where are we going, Kimi?" you inquired, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced at you with a mischievous smile before returning his gaze to the road. "You'll see," he teased, his eyes never leaving the horizon.

The car's engine hummed soothingly, lulling you into a gentle doze. The city streets had given way to the open road, and the scenery outside the window was a blur of green and brown. You felt your eyelids growing heavy, and despite the excitement bubbling within you, the lack of sleep from the previous night began to take its toll.

Kimi noticed your struggle and reached over, placing a gentle hand on your thigh. "You okay?" he asked, his thumb rubbing small, comforting circles.

You startled awake. "I'm fine," you lied, hoping he hadn't noticed the dark circles under your eyes. The truth was, you hadn't slept well last night, your mind racing with thoughts of him. The gentle sway of the car and the warmth of the afternoon sun had conspired to lull you into a state of drowsiness.

Kimi's hand remained on your thigh, his touch a comforting constant. You felt the heat of his palm through the fabric of your dress and the steady rhythm of his thumb against your skin. It was a small gesture, but it filled you with a warmth that spread through your body, dispelling the lingering fatigue. You leaned into it, savoring the sensation.

As the drive continued, the gentle thrumming of the engine became a lullaby, and despite your best efforts, your eyes grew heavy. The scenery outside the tinted windows blurred into a mosaic of light and shadow. You blinked, fighting off the seductive pull of sleep, but the quiet, rhythmic journey was too much to resist.

Kimi's hand remained on your thigh, his thumb continuing its hypnotic dance. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, creating a soothing contrast to the coolness of the car's air conditioning. Your eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, until you couldn't hold them open any longer. You leaned your head against the headrest, allowing sleep to claim you.

You didn't know how much time had passed when you were jolted awake by the car coming to a stop. You blinked rapidly, the world coming into focus once again.

You looked around, and for a moment, you thought you had slipped into a dream. The scenery outside the window didn't look like the bustling city streets of Imola you were used to. It didn't even look like the countryside surrounding the Imola racetrack, where Kimi had claimed victory just yesterday. It looked like… Verona.

The cobblestone streets, the ancient buildings bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, the scent of blooming flowers mingling with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread. It was like stepping into a memory, a painting come to life.

You turned to Kimi in shock, your hand flying to your mouth. "Verona?" you whispered, the word barely audible.

He nodded, his smile growing wider. "Surprise," he murmured, his eyes alight with mischief. "I thought it was time for a change of scenery. Something… romantic."

The word hung in the air, heavy with implication, and your heart skipped a beat. Was he really taking you on a romantic getaway? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. You had never been the type to indulge in fairy tales, but with Kimi, everything felt possible.

He opened the car door for you, and as you stepped out, the cobblestones beneath your feet felt alive with the history of the city. The warmth of the setting sun kissed your skin, and the air was alive with the sounds of a place untouched by the modern world. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs with the intoxicating blend of antiquity and passion that seemed to pulse through the very air of Verona.

With a gentle tug, Kimi led you down an ancient path, his hand firm yet reassuring in yours. "Trust me," he said, his voice a soft whisper that seemed to resonate within you. He reached into his pocket and produced a velvet blindfold. "You have to wear this. You don't get to spoil the surprise," he grinned, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

What could he possibly have planned? The soft velvet of the blindfold brushed against your cheeks as he secured it around your eyes, plunging you into a world of darkness. Your other senses heightened, you felt the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper, "Are you ready?"

You nodded, your pulse quickening. The anticipation was exquisite, a thrill you hadn't felt since that first kiss on the podium. He guided you through the unfamiliar streets of Verona, the cobblestones cool against the soles of your sandals.

With each step, your hand tightened in his. You could feel the tension in his fingers, the unspoken promise of something extraordinary waiting just around the corner. The sounds of the city grew distant, replaced by the steady thump of your own heart and the comforting echo of your footsteps in tandem with his.

You walked for a while before you stopped, the sudden cessation of movement surprising you. The air grew thick with anticipation as he gently tugged at the blindfold. You felt the warmth of his breath on your neck as he whispered, "Okay, you can open your eyes now."

Slowly, you lifted the velvet shroud, blinking as the light flooded back in. Your eyes widened as they adjusted to the scene before you. You were standing in a courtyard, surrounded by lush greenery and the sweet scent of blooming roses.

Directly in front of you was a large, ornate sign, painted in a whimsical script that read, "Vuoi essere la mia ragazza?" You felt your cheeks flush at the translation: "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

Kimi's nervous smile grew even more pronounced as he watched your reaction, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand. The courtyard was lit with soft, twinkling lights strung from the branches of the trees overhead, casting a magical glow over the entire scene.

You took in the sight before you, the beauty of the moment sinking in. "Ever since I saw you trying so hard to study Italian," he began, his voice low and earnest, "I knew I had to help you, but I didn't know that I would fall in love with you that quickly." His words were like a caress, gentle yet firm, leaving no room for doubt or misunderstanding.

A warmth spread through your chest, filling you with a feeling of belonging that was both exhilarating and terrifying. You had studied Italian for so long, driven by an unexplainable fascination with the culture, the language, and the passion that seemed to pulse through every word. And now, here you were, standing in the heart of Verona, with the man who had unwittingly become the embodiment of that passion for you.

Kimi stepped closer, his hand still holding yours firmly. You could feel the calluses from his years of racing, a stark contrast to the velvety softness of your own skin. "I've watched you struggle with the pronunciation, the grammar," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And I couldn't help but be drawn to your determination, your spirit."

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession. "But why me?" you asked, your voice barely audible. You felt like you were floating, suspended between reality and a dream.

"Your dedication, your passion," Kimi murmured, his thumb still tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. "It's inspiring. And the way you light up when you get something right… it's like watching the sun rise over the racetrack." His grip tightened, his eyes searching yours.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. The way he talked about your Italian studies was as if he were recounting the plot of a romance novel, and you were the heroine whose perseverance had captured the heart of the stoic protagonist. It was a feeling so foreign, so intoxicating, that you could hardly believe it was real.

"Yes," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly. The word felt like a declaration, a confession, a surrender to the whirlwind that had become your life.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, looking for the truth in your response. "I know it's fast," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But sometimes, when you know, you just know."

You felt a warmth spread through you, a warmth that was more than just the sun on your skin. It was the warmth of his words, the warmth of his touch, the warmth of his love. You knew you were falling for him too, and it was happening at a speed that defied logic, but somehow, it felt right. "I know," you said, your voice soft and sure. "I feel it too."

The courtyard was a whirlwind of sensation around you. The scent of the roses filled your nose, their velvety petals brushing against your bare arms as you stepped closer to him. The cobblestones felt rough and ancient beneath your sandals, a stark contrast to the smoothness of the dress that clung to your damp skin. The air was thick with anticipation, with the promise of something new and thrilling.

Kimi's eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the space between you. You felt your heart hammer in your chest, the thud of it echoing in your ears like the purr of a finely-tuned engine. His hand was still wrapped around yours, a silent declaration of intent. You knew what he was asking, what he wanted from you. And in that moment, you realized that you wanted it too.

"Eh," he began again, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the very air around you, "Vuoi essere la mia ragazza?" It was a simple question, yet it held the weight of the world. Will you be my girlfriend? The Italian words rolled off his tongue, a soft caress that seemed to ignite a fire in your veins.

You felt your heart stutter, your breath hitch. The question hung in the air, a delicate balance between hope and fear. Kimi's gaze bore into you, his eyes a stormy sea of emotion. The nervousness that flickered in those depths was endearing, a stark contrast to the cool confidence he exuded on the racetrack.

Slowly, you nodded. "Yes," you breathed, the word escaping on a sigh that seemed to carry with it all the unspoken moments between you, the shared glances, the stolen touches, the whispers of attraction that had grown into something more substantial.

Kimi's expression softened, his eyes warming as he leaned in closer. The world around you grew quieter, the sounds of the city fading into a gentle hum that melded with the beating of your hearts. His lips met yours in a kiss that was tender yet insistent, a silent declaration of his intentions. The warmth of his breath mingled with your own, and the sensation sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

As your arms snaked around his neck, you felt his hand tighten around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The fabric of his suit was smooth against your skin, a stark contrast to the roughened calluses of his palms. The buzzing warmth grew, enveloping you in a cocoon of sensation, making you feel as if you were floating.

His other hand found its way to your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone in a gentle caress. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the steady thump of his heart matching the rhythm of your own. His scent was intoxicating, a blend of leather, engine oil, and victory, and it wrapped around you like a warm embrace.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sudden pop, and then, there was confetti. It rained down around you, a shower of color and light that made you jump back in surprise. You pulled away from Kimi, staring up at the confetti floating above your heads like a cloud of pure joy. He chuckled, a low, delighted sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

"There's another present," Kimi murmured, his eyes glinting with excitement.

Before you could react, he turned you around with a gentle touch on the shoulders. You blinked in surprise as your eyes fell upon a sight that made your heart swell. There, standing in the courtyard, were your parents. They looked as shocked as you felt, their eyes wide with delight and disbelief.

Your mother, her hair a fiery halo around her face, had her hand pressed to her heart, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek. Your father, stoic yet beaming, had his arms open wide, ready to envelop you in a bear hug that spoke volumes of his pride and love.

"Mamma, Papà," you managed to murmur, your voice thick with emotion. Kimi's grip on your waist was the only thing keeping you upright.

The confetti continued to fall around you, a whimsical touch to an already surreal moment. Your mother rushed over, her eyes sparkling with joy. She wrapped you in an embrace that was all too familiar, her warmth and the scent of her perfume grounding you in reality. "Oh, my darling," she whispered in your ear, her words tinged with a hint of an Italian accent she had never lost despite moving to the United States before you were born. "I knew this man was special the moment you talked about him. And now, he brings us to Verona."

Your father's hug was next, his strong arms lifting you off the ground. "You've made us so proud," he murmured in your hair. "And not just because you're with a Formula One driver." His laughter was contagious, and you felt a weight lift from your chest.

Kimi's hand remained on your waist, his touch a comforting reminder of the new reality you were navigating. As you pulled away from your parents, you couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. You looked up at him, his brown eyes holding yours with a fierce intensity that made your heart race.

"How did you do this?" you asked, gesturing to the courtyard and the confetti that still danced in the air.

Kimi's smile was filled with the pride of a man who had just pulled off an impossible feat. "I have connections," he replied with a wink. His eyes searched yours, looking for the spark of wonder that you knew was reflected in your own. "And I wanted to make sure that when I asked you to be my girlfriend, it was a moment you would never forget."

The confetti continued to flutter around you, the gentle kiss of the breeze carrying the whisper of a thousand paper secrets. You reached up, plucking a piece from the air. It was a delicate pink square, with "Amore" written in flowing script. Love. The word seemed to encapsulate everything you felt in that moment.

"There's another surprise," Kimi grinned, his eyes glinting with excitement. Your heart raced. What could possibly top this? You looked around the courtyard, but nothing seemed out of place. The roses swayed gently in the breeze, the lights above you casting a warm glow on your skin.

"What could it be?" you asked, your voice a soft whisper that seemed to carry the weight of your anticipation.

"Only the best," Kimi assured you, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I've booked a whole restaurant for you and your parents to catch up," he announced. "They've been dying to hear about your life, your work, your… everything."

The realization that your parents were here, in Verona, because of Kimi's thoughtfulness, brought a rush of emotion.

You felt your eyes well up with tears as you looked at the man standing before you, his hand still resting gently on your waist. The gesture was more than just a show of affection; it was a declaration of intent, a promise to support and cherish you. You knew then that this was no fleeting fling, no whirlwind romance destined to burn out as quickly as it had ignited. This was something real, something that could withstand the tests of time and distance.

As your parents approached, the reality of the situation sank in. Kimi had done all of this for you, had brought your worlds together in a way that was both beautifully romantic and utterly unexpected.

The restaurant was a hidden gem, tucked away down a narrow alleyway. The walls were a warm terracotta, adorned with ivy and fairy lights, giving it a cozy, intimate feel. The scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of Italian conversation and the clinking of glasses.

The meal that followed was a feast for the senses. Each dish was a testament to the rich tapestry of Italian cuisine, a symphony of flavors that danced on your tongue. You could feel the love and care that had been poured into each morsel, the tender embrace of a culture that reveled in the joy of food and the company of those you shared it with. The wine flowed freely, and your cheeks grew flushed as the warmth of it spread through your body.

Throughout dinner, you watched Kimi as he chatted with your parents, his Italian accent thickening with his enthusiasm. The way he spoke about his passion for racing, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his love for the sport—it was infectious. You felt a swell of pride in him, in his dedication and his success, and you knew that he was the kind of man who would never stop pushing himself to be better.

The conversation flowed easily, a tapestry of languages and laughter. Your mother spoke of her own youth in Italy, her eyes sparkling as she recounted tales of her rebellious days that made you blush. Your father spoke of his love for your mother, their bond still strong after all these years, and you found yourself looking at Kimi, wondering if that could be you someday.

Kimi reached across the table, his hand finding yours. He laced his fingers through yours, the touch sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. The intertwining of your hands felt natural, as if your hands had been searching for this connection since the moment you had first laid eyes on each other.

You took a deep breath, feeling a sudden urge to speak in the language that had brought you so much closer to him. "Mamma, Papà," you began, your voice a soft caress as you spoke in Italian, "Kimi mi ha portato qui per dirvi qualcosa di speciale."

Your parents' expressions shifted from surprise to astonishment, their eyes widening as they took in your words. You had never fully learned Italian in all those years. Yet here you were, speaking fluently in the language of love and passion, all because of the man beside you.

"Mamma, Papà, Kimi mi ha insegnato l'italiano," you continued, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you revealed the secret. Kimi's grip on your hand tightened slightly, his eyes filled with admiration.

Your mother's hand flew to her chest, her eyes wide with shock and delight. "Davvero?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with incredulity. "Ma come?"

Your father's smile grew wider, his eyes glistening with pride. "È vero," Kimi said, his own Italian smooth and confident. "Tua figlia ha lavorato duramente. Voleva farvi una sorpresa."

You felt a thrill of excitement at the way your parents' gazes darted between you and Kimi, their astonishment clear. It was a moment you had never dreamed of, a moment where the two halves of your world collided in a beautiful mess of love and passion.

"Sí, mamma," you continued, your Italian rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. "Kimi mi ha mostrato il vero amore per l'italiano. Mi ha insegnato parole, frasi, mi ha raccontato storie."

Your mother's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she took in the transformation before her. Your father leaned back in his chair, his hand on his chin, a proud smile playing on his lips.

"Incredibile," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You never cease to amaze us."

Your mother's grip on your hand tightened, her eyes brimming with tears of joy. "Che bella," she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

Kimi's thumb traced comforting circles on the back of your hand as you spoke, his eyes never leaving yours. The way he looked at you, with such admiration and love, made your heart swell in your chest. You had studied Italian for so long, but speaking it in front of your parents, with the man who had inspired you to finally master it, was a revelation.

Your mother's cheeks were flushed with emotion as she listened, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Mi dispiace," you said, switching to English. "I didn't mean to shock you. I just wanted to show you how much I've learned, and how much Kimi has helped me."

Your father leaned in, his gaze soft. "It's not every day you hear your daughter speaking Italian like a native," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "It's… incredible."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of their happiness pressing against your chest. "Thank you," you whispered, squeezing Kimi's hand. "It's all because of him."

"That's a story to tell your kids," your mom teased, wiping away a tear with the edge of her napkin. "You found love by Italian lessons?"

You couldn't help but laugh at the irony of it all. The journey that had started with a simple curiosity about a language had led you to the love of your life.

As the evening grew later, the conversation grew quieter, more intimate. You found yourself leaning closer to Kimi, the warmth of his body a comforting presence. His thumb continued to stroke the back of your hand, sending waves of pleasure up your arm, and you felt a sudden urge to kiss him.

Before you could act on the impulse, he leaned over and pressed his lips to your cheek. The softness of his touch, the gentle brush of his stubble against your skin, made you giggle involuntarily.

The sensation of his kiss lingered on your cheek, a warm imprint of his affection. You felt your cheeks flush as you turned to look at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "What's so funny?" he asked, his voice a low purr that seemed to vibrate through you.

"It's just… I wasn't expecting that," you replied, your voice a soft giggle. The gesture was so tender, so unexpectedly sweet, that it had caught you off guard. Kimi's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "But I'm not complaining," you added hastily, feeling the blush deepen.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "You know," he began, his voice dropping to a whisper that seemed to echo through the emptying restaurant, "I've had a lot of amazing moments in my life. Winning races, standing on podiums, living my dreams. But nothing… nothing has ever made me feel like this."

His thumb stopped its lazy circles, his hand stilling in yours. "You," he continued, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your heart flutter, "are the best surprise I've ever had."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your cheeks burn. The room grew quiet around you, the whispers of the last diners fading into the background as you became lost in his gaze. Your eyes fell to your entwined hands, the stark contrast of your fair skin against his tanned, calloused fingers.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the words that had been hovering just beyond your lips for what felt like an eternity. "I love you, Kimi," you finally said, the words tumbling out in a rush of air.

Kimi's smile grew even brighter, his eyes lighting up like the stars that had just begun to peek through the inky sky above. "And I love you," he responded, his voice a soft caress that seemed to envelop you in a warm embrace.

The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to resonate through every atom of the universe. The love that had sparked between you during those Italian lessons had grown into a fiery inferno, and you were both lost in its embrace.

Kimi leaned in, capturing your lips with his, the kiss a sweet symphony of passion and promise.

You melted into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease away. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

"I'm glad I took those Italian lessons from you," you murmured against his chest, your voice muffled by his shirt.

Kimi's chuckle rumbled through him, his hand tightening around your waist. "They've served us both well," he said, his voice a velvety purr that sent shivers down your spine.

You leaned back into him, the scent of him enveloping you like a warm embrace. "More than you know," you murmured, your voice thick with unspoken desire.

The Italian language had become more than just a bridge between you—it was a secret language of love, a shared history that only the two of you could understand. . . .

[theonlyonesora]

Breaking Down

Synopsis. When he breaks something valuable of yours in a fight.

Pairings. (SEPARATE) Lando Norris x Reader, Charles Leclerc x Reader, Carlos Sainz x Reader, Pierre Gasly x Reader

Lando Norris

You’re at his house in Monaco. The late afternoon light casts long shadows through the open windows. You sit cross-legged on the bed, his sweatshirt draped over your body, trying to calm yourself.

“I can’t read you,” he says, his voice flat. “I don’t know if you’re here because you want to be or because you just don’t know where to go.”

The sentence hurts. Too close to the truth. Or maybe too far.

“Do you think I’m using you?” you ask, your jaw clenched.

He throws his arms up. “I don’t know! You don’t talk to me anymore!”

And then his hand knocks over the candle on your nightstand—the one you lit every night when you missed home. The glass shatters. The wax spills. The flame goes out.

You look at him like something sacred has ended.

Lando falls silent immediately. His eyes flick to yours, wide and sad.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he offers weakly.

But you just whisper, “You can’t replace everything that breaks, Lando.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Charles Leclerc

Rain beats against the windows of your Monte Carlo apartment. A storm is approaching the coast. The apartment feels colder than it should.

You never imagined Charles would raise his voice. Not to you. Not like this.

But there he is—hands in his hair, pacing back and forth like a man coming undone.

“You always do this,” he snaps, his voice as harsh as you’ve ever heard it. “You walk away and expect me to fix it.”

“I’ve never asked you to fix anything,” you snap, gripping the edge of the counter and trying not to cry.

He points to the table where the chipped porcelain music box sits—a gift from your mother when you moved to Monaco. The one he knows means more than you’ve ever said out loud.

Your hand flies away. The music box clatters to the floor. Silence fills the room.

The melody never plays again.

Don't scream. Just stare at the broken pieces.

Charles exhales shakily, regret already welling in his eyes. "My love… I didn't mean to…"

But you're already pulling away, and something in both of you breaks forever.

Pierre Gasly

our elegant Parisian apartment. Your perfume hangs in the air, as do the echoes of words spoken too quickly, too loudly.

“You never stop looking back,” Pierre growls. “As if you’re still waiting for someone else to show up!”

You’re crying now, tired of this endless argument.

“I’m here. I chose you.”

“Then why do I feel inadequate?” he asks sharply.

You open your arms. “I gave you everything, Pierre!”

He reaches for the crystal frame on the mantelpiece—the one that holds a photo of your first trip together, smiling with champagne on a snow-covered balcony.

He doesn’t mean to. He slips.

Glass and memories shatter on the marble floor.

Your breath leaves your lungs.

Pierre freezes, horror in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to… mon cœur, I didn't…"

You kneel beside the broken picture frame, your tears silenced now. "You don't fix things by breaking them anymore."

And this time, you're the one who walks away.

Carlos Sainz

A warm afternoon in Madrid. The scent of citrus and tension hangs in the air. You’re in the garage of his family’s summer home, surrounded by memories and old tools.

“You don’t trust me,” you say, barely above a whisper. “Not with your heart. No way.”

Carlos leans against the counter, his eyes dark and his voice hard. “Because you keep proving I shouldn’t.”

Your heart races. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s true.”

Your gaze falls on the miniature go-kart on the shelf—his first go-kart, a tiny replica he let you keep for good luck. You grab it, needing something to hold on to.

He sees the movement, misinterprets it, and slams his palm on the shelf in frustration. The go-kart flies.

It hits the concrete. It shatters.

Silence.

"Fuck…" he sighs, instantly regretful.

You crouch down, picking up the broken pieces with shaking hands.

Carlos kneels beside you, his voice low and shaky. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him. Or you."

You look up at him, your eyes brimming with tears. "But you did."