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faithshouseofchaos · 3 days ago

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Home between worlds — Jenson Button x plus size!fem!reader

Word count— 29.k

Fluff with a side of angst I wrote this with McLaren Jenson in mind.

Jenson pulled his car to the side of the dusty North Carolina road, frowning as the engine sputtered and died. The sleek lines and polished chrome were now a frustrating sight, and he slumped back in the seat, realizing he had no idea how to fix this sort of thing. He glanced around, taking in the quiet surroundings. The nearest house was a charming, white clapboard home with a wide front porch draped in flowering vines.

After a long moment, he grabbed his phone and gave it a half-hearted glance. No signal. Of course. With a resigned sigh, he stepped out and walked up to the house, hoping someone there could helpâ€”or at least point him in the direction of the nearest mechanic.

He climbed the porch steps, suddenly aware of how out of place he looked here in his designer clothes and polished loafers. He lifted his hand and knocked, then took a small step back, trying not to look too desperate.

The door opened, and there she was: a woman with soft curls framing her face, warm, curious eyes, and an apron dusted with what looked like flour. She glanced at him with raised brows, assessing him in a way that made him feel both awkward and oddly grounded.

“Can I help you?” she asked, Southern drawl curling around her words.

Jenson cleared his throat. “Sorry to bother you. My car broke down just up the road, and, uh, I don’t really know what to do with it.” He flashed a small smile, hoping his charm would bridge the gap.

She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly, as if she could see right through the smile. “Ain’t from around here, are you?”

“Guilty,” he admitted, giving a little shrug. “Just passing through. I don’t suppose you know if there’s a mechanic nearby?”

“Nearest one’s in town, but they close early on Fridays,” she replied, her voice calm and thoughtful. “Though if you’re desperate, I can give ‘em a call. Or you can stay here tonight and get it looked at in the morning.”

Jenson blinked, caught off guard by her kindness. He opened his mouth to politely declineâ€”he wasn’t sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it. Yet as he looked into her eyes, something made him hesitate. He found himself nodding. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that, actually.”

She stepped back, holding the door open. “Name’s Y/N, by the way,” she said, offering a slight smile.

“Jenson.” He reached out to shake her hand, and when she took it, he felt a warm, steady strength in her grip. He could sense he’d just entered a place where things moved at their own rhythm, where his usual tricks wouldn’t get him far.

As he stepped inside, a sense of calm washed over him, blending with the quiet sense of mystery she seemed to carry. This was going to be a new experience, and, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what to expect next.

I’m so glad you’re enjoying it! Let’s continue, with Jenson settling in for the night and the two of them beginning to connect, just a little.

The inside of her house was as charming as the outside, with worn wood floors, a cozy fireplace, and a mix of vintage furniture that gave it character. He took it all in, feeling oddly at home. As Y/N led him to the guest room, he caught the faint scent of something freshly baked.

“Hope you’re not picky,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ve got some leftovers if you’re hungry.”

Jenson’s stomach growled in response, and he let out a small chuckle. “Guess that answers that.”

She showed him to the guest room, a small but comfortable space with a soft quilt draped over the bed. He dropped his bag by the door and followed her back to the kitchen, where she handed him a plate piled with homemade biscuits, a little dish of honey, and a bowl of stew.

“Thank you,” he said, genuinely touched. “I didn’t expectâ€”well, all of this.”

She gave him a slight smile as she poured herself a cup of tea, then sat across the table. “We don’t get many strangers around here, so I guess it’s only right to treat ‘em well. Besides, you look like you could use a break.”

Jenson felt himself relax, her warmth and directness a refreshing change from the usual small talk he was used to. They ate in a comfortable silence, broken only by the clinking of spoons and the occasional creak of the old house settling around them. She didn’t seem fazed by his silence, filling the quiet with small comments about the town or the farm she worked on down the road.

As he finished his plate, she glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. “So, Mr. Jenson, what brings you all the way out here?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Long story short, I wanted a break fromâ€¦well, everything. I Need to clear my head, I guess.”

Y/N’s gaze softened a bit. “Big city type, huh? You look at it, with those clothes and that fancy car.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, smirking a little. “I spend most of my time racing around the world. It’s been my whole life, honestly. But sometimesâ€¦well, you can lose track of yourself.”

She studied him for a moment, as if reading between the lines. “What happened to you?”

Jenson didn’t answer immediately. He was used to people asking him about the glamorous side of his lifeâ€”the wins, the parties, the fame. But no one had asked about the toll it took, and he found himself unable to brush it off as easily as he would with a stranger.

“Something like that,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Y/N gave a slight nod, her gaze understanding. “Well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need. Just know this isn’t the kind of town that changes for anyone.” She smiled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “You’ll be the one doing the adjusting here.”

He chuckled, something warm stirring in him. “I think I can handle that.”

After they cleaned up, Jenson found himself lingering in the cozy living room, where she’d lit a fire. He noticed the way she moved around the space, comfortable and confident, filling it with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a while. She handed him a blanket without a word, then sat down in her own chair, tucking her feet under herself.

“So, what do you do for fun around here?” he asked, half-joking.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she replied, smiling mysteriously. “It’s not exactly the life you’re used to, butâ€¦sometimes the simple things are better.”

Jenson looked at her, intrigued. She didn’t seem impressed by his fame, and that only made her more fascinating. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a real conversation like this, and, as he settled in for the night, he wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d found exactly what he was looking for.

The next morning, Jenson woke to the smell of coffee and something sweet drifting through the air. He lay there for a moment, the morning sunlight casting a soft glow through the thin curtains. It was quietâ€”no cars, no city sounds. Just birds singing and the soft hum of activity somewhere in the house. For the first time in a while, he felt rested.

When he made his way to the kitchen, Y/N was there, moving about with easy familiarity, a steaming pot of coffee and a plate of fresh muffins on the table. She glanced up and gave him a half-smile.

“Hope you like blueberries,” she said, pushing the plate toward him. “We get a lot of fresh berries around here this time of year.”

Jenson took a muffin and bit into it, his eyes widening. “This is incredible,” he said, barely waiting to swallow before taking another bite.

“Guess they don’t teach cooking like that where you’re from, huh?” she teased, pouring him a cup of coffee.

“Definitely not,” he replied, chuckling. “You know, it’s been a long time since anyone’s made me breakfast. You didn’t have to go through the trouble.”

Y/N shrugged, looking out the window. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I figured you’d need something hearty if you’re sticking around long enough to get that car of yours sorted.”

They spent the morning together, mostly in silence, with Y/N occasionally breaking it with a story about the town or a memory from her childhood. Jenson found himself listening intently, surprised at how much he enjoyed her quiet presence. She had a way of drawing him in, making him feel grounded.

As the day went on, she showed him around the small town, introducing him to the local shops and friendly faces. It wasn’t long before he realized everyone knew everyone hereâ€”and now, they all seemed to know him too.

The grocer, a wiry older man with a thick Southern drawl, gave Jenson a once-over, smirking. “So, you’re the one Y/N’s got staying with her, huh? Bet you’re not used to these parts.”

Jenson chuckled, trying to play it cool. “I’m learning,” he replied, glancing at Y/N, who was pretending to look at the produce but hiding a smile.

The grocer laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, don’t go causin’ too much trouble, y’hear?”

They continued on, Y/N’s cheeks tinged with a bit of color. “Don’t mind him. Folks around here like to keep tabs on one another.”

“I think I’m beginning to understand that,” Jenson replied, grinning. “Good thing I have you as my guide, or they’d probably run me out of town.”

Y/N shook her head, her smile growing softer. “Don’t worry, Mr. Button. You’ll blend in sooner than you think.”

By the end of the day, they found themselves back at her place, both a little worn from walking and chatting with neighbors. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow across the fields.

Jenson helped her with dinner, laughing as he struggled to peel potatoes without taking half of the potato with it. Y/N watched, amused, occasionally guiding his hands until he finally got the hang of it.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever worked this hard on dinner in my life,” he said, mock-sighing as he handed her the last peeled potato.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’ll live. And besides, you’ll appreciate it more when you have to work for it.”

She took the potatoes and set them in a pot on the stove, glancing over her shoulder at him. He noticed the way her eyes softened as she looked at him, just a hint of warmth that hadn’t been there before. In that moment, he felt a pullâ€”a realization that he was starting to care about more than just the novelty of this little town.

They ate by the fireplace that night, sharing stories about their lives as the flames crackled softly. Jenson told her about his racing days, glossing over the glamorous bits and focusing on the rush of it, the way he felt most alive on the track. She listened intently, nodding along, though he could tell she didn’t quite understand that world.

And then she shared a little more about herself. She’d grown up here, working on her family’s farm, a life far different from the one Jenson had known. She spoke of long summer days in the fields, community gatherings, and the sense of responsibility she felt to take care of the land. Her voice grew softer, thoughtful, as she talked about her hopes of expanding the farm, making it a sustainable place that could serve the town for generations.

For the first time in years, Jenson found himself captivated, not by the thrill of the fast lane, but by the quiet strength she radiated.

As the evening wore on, they both grew quiet, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. Jenson looked over at her, feeling something shift inside him. He didn’t want to leave just yet; he wanted to stay in this world she’d let him glimpse, to understand her better.

But he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. There were things she wasn’t saying, barriers she’d put up without him even realizing it. And for the first time, he wanted to break through themâ€”not with his usual charm or easy smiles, but with patience, with honesty.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “For letting me stay. Forâ€¦everything.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression softening again as she nodded. “You’re welcome, Jenson.”

And in that quiet, fire-lit room, they both sat, caught in a moment that felt like the start of something neither of them could quite name.

It had been a few days since Jenson’s car was fixed, and the two of them had settled into a rhythm of shared meals, late-night talks, and quiet moments in the living room. Despite his initial intentions to leave as soon as possible, Jenson found himself staying a little longer each day, drawn to the warmth and comfort of the homeâ€”her home.

One afternoon, Y/N was in the kitchen preparing lunch. The soft sound of a knife chopping vegetables was the only noise in the otherwise still house, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the distant murmur of a car passing outside. Jenson leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Need any help?” he asked, watching her move with easy efficiency, a quiet grace that belied the busyness of the task at hand.

“I’ve got it,” she replied, glancing up at him with a smile. “But if you’re looking for something to do, there’s a gallon of sweet tea in the fridge. You could pour me a glass.”

Jenson raised an eyebrow. “Sweet tea?”

She nodded, continuing to chop the vegetables. “Yeah. You’ve probably heard of it, right? Big Southern thing.”

Jenson chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Of course I’ve heard of it. Just not sure I understand the appeal. Seems like it’s justâ€¦ tea with an insane amount of sugar, right?”

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’d be surprised how good it is. But you’re rightâ€”it’s basically a glass of sugar with a hint of tea.”

“Right,” he said with a smirk. “That soundsâ€¦ incredibly healthy.”

Y/N shook her head with a chuckle, turning to face him. “It’s an acquired taste, for sure. You’ve got to really pour it in just right, though. Too little sugar and it’s just weak tea, too much, and it’s just syrup.”

Jenson tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. “So what’s the ‘right’ amount?”

She grinned. “Well, if you want to drink it the way I do, you need at least an inch of sugar in there. Anything less and it’s not really sweet tea. Might as well be iced tea.”

Jenson blinked at her for a second, his lips curling into a playful smile. “An inch of sugar? That’s, uhâ€¦ excessive.”

“It’s perfect,” Y/N said, a proud tone in her voice. “Trust me.”

Jenson eyed her warily but couldn’t resist the curiosity. “Alright, alright. I’ll give it a go. But I’m warning you, if it’s too sweet, I’m never drinking this stuff again.”

He opened the fridge, pulling out the large container of sweet tea, and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. As he poured, Y/N watched him, trying not to laugh at the way he was so carefully measuring the sugar level.

He returned to the counter, handed her the glass, and with a little grin, took a sip from his own.

She watched his expression change as the sweetness hit him, and she couldn’t hold back her laugh this time. “So? What do you think?”

Jenson blinked rapidly, a little caught off guard by the overwhelming sweetness. He slowly set the glass down on the counter, clearing his throat. “Wellâ€¦ I think I might’ve just had a sugar high,” he said, his voice teasing. “It’sâ€¦ definitely sweet.”

Y/N laughed so hard she had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. “Told you! It’s a real shock to the system if you’re not used to it.”

Jenson grinned, looking over at her with a playful glint in his eyes. “I might need a few more tries before I’m convinced. But for now, I’ll justâ€¦ try not to get a sugar coma.”

“Good idea,” she said, taking a sip from her own glass. “But you’re going to need to learn how to drink it properly if you’re going to live down here. It’s a staple.”

Jenson leaned against the counter, studying her, an almost unnoticeable softness in his eyes as he observed how at home she looked here, in her element. There was something undeniably endearing about herâ€”about the way she didn’t just accept Southern culture, but embraced it fully.

“You really do love this place, don’t you?” he asked quietly, his voice a little softer than usual.

Y/N looked up at him, a small, genuine smile spreading across her face. “Yeah, I do. It’s my home, Jenson. It might not be as fancy or as exciting as your life, but it’s mine. It’s where I belong.”

There was a brief pause between them, and Jenson felt something stir in him, a strange, unexpected feeling. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was definitely something more than just admiration.

He took another sip of his sweet tea, his eyes still lingering on her. “Well, I think you’re doing a damn good job of making it seem exciting,” he said with a grin.

Her eyes softened, and the smile on her face lingered a little longer than usual. There was a quiet intimacy in the way their gazes held each other, and Jenson felt a flicker of something he hadn’t quite expected when he first arrived. Something more than just a passing curiosity. Somethingâ€¦ real.

As the days went by, their interactions became increasingly natural. Jenson had gotten used to the calm rhythm of life in North Carolina, a pace far different from the constant whirlwind of F1 circuits and the bustling life he’d grown accustomed to. In the evenings, he would sit with Y/N in the living room, watching TV or simply talking about the mundane details of life. They fell into a comfortable routineâ€”quiet, easy, and without expectation.

One afternoon, Y/N was busy working on some paperwork for her job, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. Jenson had wandered into the kitchen to grab a snack, a bag of chips in one hand, when he noticed her distractedly tapping her pen on the table. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she glanced between papers, occasionally shaking her head.

“Need help with that?” Jenson asked casually, leaning against the doorframe, still holding his snack.

Y/N looked up, a bit surprised by the offer. “I could probably use a second opinion. Justâ€¦ numbers and stuff. Nothing exciting.”

Jenson raised an eyebrow and walked over, sitting down across from her. “You’d be surprised what’s exciting if you’ve got the right perspective.”

Y/N smirked, tapping the pen against her lip. “Right. Well, it’s not really that thrilling.”

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “Alright, what’s the issue?”

For a moment, Y/N hesitated, then sighed, pushing the papers toward him. “Just a couple of budget reports for the town’s community projects. Nothing too complicated, but it’s giving me a headache. Could you take a look?”

Jenson, always quick to analyze things, scanned the numbers, his mind working through the calculations with ease. As he did, he noticed Y/N watching him quietly, a small smile playing at her lips.

“What?” Jenson asked, glancing up with a teasing look.

“Nothing,” she replied, her voice soft. “Just never thought I’d have a Brit helping me with budget reports. You’re more useful than I gave you credit for.”

He grinned, a playful glint in his eyes. “I do have more talents than just driving a race car, you know.”

She laughed, the sound light and easy. The tension from before, the one that had made their interactions feel slightly strained, seemed to be melting away. It was just themâ€”two people who had never expected to cross paths but now found themselves sharing moments in a way that felt natural, as if it had always been meant to happen.

Later that evening, after dinner, they found themselves outside again, watching the stars. The chill of the night air had settled in, but neither of them seemed to mind. They’d walked outside in silence, the sound of the grass crunching beneath their feet, the sky above them dotted with stars.

“I think you’re the first person I’ve met who doesn’t rush through everything,” Jenson said softly, breaking the quiet.

Y/N glanced at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” he continued, his voice low, almost like he was thinking out loud. “Everyone I know is always running somewhere, always thinking about the next thing. But youâ€¦ you seem to take it slow. Like you can just be here, in the moment.”

Y/N turned her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes were soft, contemplative. There was something in the way he was looking at her, a quiet admiration that made her heart beat a little faster.

“Well,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, “sometimes the next thing can wait. Life’s too short to be in a rush all the time.”

Jenson nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I wish I could slow down sometimes.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. It was like he was revealing something about himself that he didn’t say aloud oftenâ€”how he was always on the go, always under pressure, always performing.

“You know,” she said gently, “you don’t always have to be going a hundred miles an hour. Maybe there’s something good in justâ€¦ being still.”

Jenson met her gaze again, his expression shifting to something deeper. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just took in the way her words seemed to settle in his mind. He hadn’t realized how much he longed for that stillnessâ€”until now.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the most peaceful silence he’d felt in a long time. He took a deep breath, the air cold against his lungs, and looked up at the stars. “Maybe I’ll learn to appreciate that,” he said quietly.

Y/N didn’t say anything for a moment. She simply let the quiet settle between them, the stars above them, the soft hum of the world around them. And in that moment, despite the tension, despite everything unspoken, it felt like they were more connected than ever.

As the week drew to a close, their connection seemed to shift even further, though neither of them would openly acknowledge it. They began sharing more moments of quiet closenessâ€”Jenson offering her his jacket when they went out for walks, their fingers brushing as they passed each other in the hallway, the soft hum of their conversations lingering even when no words were spoken.

But there was always a lingering distance between them, one neither of them was willing to cross, yet both were painfully aware of.

One evening, as they prepared for bed, Jenson paused in the doorway of her room. There was a hesitation in his movement, something almost uncertain in the way he lingered.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than usual, “I’ve really appreciated thisâ€”being here. With you.”

Y/N’s heart gave a small jolt at his words. She turned from where she was getting ready for bed, meeting his gaze. His eyes weren’t playful anymore, not teasing. There was something real thereâ€”something that made her chest tighten.

“I’ve appreciated it too,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite the flutter in her stomach. “More than you know.”

Jenson nodded slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. And just before he left the room, he hesitated for a brief moment, almost as if he was about to say something more. Instead, he simply offered a small smile, a look that seemed to speak volumes without a single word.

And as he closed the door behind him, Y/N stood there for a moment, her heart racing. Despite everything she told herself, despite the walls she’d built up around her heart, she couldn’t ignore the fact that there was something between themâ€”something undeniable, even if neither of them was ready to face it just yet.

As the days turned into a week, Y/N found herself becoming more aware of the subtle shifts in their relationship. It was in the small thingsâ€”like the way Jenson would give her a small, unspoken smile when they passed each other in the hallway, the way his presence in the house no longer felt like a surprise but a comfort.

One afternoon, while Jenson was lounging on the porch, scrolling through his phone, Y/N found herself sitting on the steps, watching the way the sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows across the ground. The air was warmer now, the last traces of winter fading away, and she felt a calm peace she hadn’t realized she was missing.

Jenson’s voice broke the stillness. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

Y/N looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Thinking? About what?”

He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. “About how different things are here. Not just the pace, but the people. You. This place.”

She raised an eyebrow, curious now. “What about it?”

“Wellâ€¦” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly trying to find the right words. “I’ve been a bit of aâ€¦ well, a mess, honestly. Always rushing around, focused on the next thing. And now, hereâ€¦ with you, I can’t help but think maybe I’ve been missing out on something important.”

Y/N studied him, unsure how to respond to his vulnerability. It wasn’t often that Jenson let his guard down, and even now, it seemed like he was unsure of how much to reveal. The realization struck herâ€”he was more than just the cocky, confident driver people saw on TV. There was more beneath the surface. And maybe, just maybe, there was a way for her to let him in.

“You don’t have to rush everything, you know,” she said softly, the words coming out more gently than she expected. “Sometimes it’s okay to justâ€¦ be. And it’s okay to not have all the answers.”

Jenson’s eyes softened as he met her gaze. “Yeah, I’ve figured that out the hard way.”

The air between them grew a little heavier, charged with something unsaid, but not uncomfortable. For once, it wasn’t about racing or the F1 world he inhabited; it was justâ€¦ them. Two people, sitting quietly on the porch, letting the world spin around them.

Later that evening, the two of them were sitting on the couch in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the space. They were watching a movieâ€”some silly romantic comedy that neither of them really cared about, but neither seemed to mind the quiet company.

Y/N leaned back against the couch, her legs stretched out in front of her, while Jenson sat next to her, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch. Every now and then, his fingers brushed against her shoulder, a small, inadvertent contact that sent a strange, electric feeling through her skin. He didn’t seem to notice, but she did.

It was these moments that made everything feelâ€¦ complicated. Her heart would beat a little faster, a little heavier, every time his proximity became a little closer, his presence just a little more real.

At one point, Jenson chuckled at a scene in the movie, the sound of his laughter low and warm. Y/N smiled faintly, the sound soothing in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“You’re weird,” she teased, not looking at him but knowing his smirk was there.

He tilted his head toward her, his voice teasing. “You love it.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a softness in her smile that betrayed her. “Don’t get cocky, Button.”

He chuckled again, this time a little louder, and his arm shifted just slightly, brushing her shoulder with a warmth that sent a spark down her spine.

For a brief moment, the world outside their little bubble seemed to fade away, and it was just them. No F1, no past relationships, no looming goodbyes. Justâ€¦ them.

The moment lingered, stretching on in quiet understanding. Y/N, for the first time, allowed herself to feel the tension between them, the growing pull that had been there from the beginning but was now more palpable. She had always prided herself on keeping a safe distance from people, especially men like Jenson. But now, she was unsure how much longer she could keep pushing him awayâ€”how much longer she could ignore the feelings blooming inside her.

Jenson, on the other hand, seemed to sense her hesitation. He didn’t push. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any bold moves. He just let the silence hang there, comfortable, yet pregnant with possibility. There was no rush, no need to fill the quiet with words or gestures. They were simply thereâ€”together.

Over the next few days, Jenson settled into a rhythm he never thought he’d enjoy. Mornings were for coffee and breakfast with Y/N, the quiet stretch of sunlight streaming through her kitchen as they traded stories and gentle, teasing remarks. Sometimes she’d take him along on her errands or introduce him to neighbors who’d wave him over with the same easy charm. He began to lose track of time, falling into the town’s slower paceâ€”and catching himself looking forward to seeing Y/N each morning.

They were out by the small garden behind her house one afternoon, her hands deep in the earth as she tended to her plants. Jenson watched, a small smile tugging at his lips, realizing he’d never seen anyone so content in their element.

“You know,” he said, leaning against the fence with an amused grin, “you’re the hardest-working person I’ve ever met. I think I’d last five minutes doing what you do.”

She looked up, wiping a hand across her brow, smudging a bit of dirt. “I’d pay to see that,” she replied with a laugh, eyes sparkling in the afternoon light. “You’d quit as soon as you chipped a nail.”

“Hey, I’m not that soft,” he retorted, feigning offense. He took a step closer, peering over her shoulder at the bed of vegetables she was planting. “I could help, you know. Give me a task and I’ll prove it.”

She glanced at him skeptically, then handed him a small trowel. “All right, fancy man. Think you can handle planting a few tomatoes?”

Jenson crouched down beside her, a little too close, his shoulder brushing against hers. He felt her stiffen, just for a second, before she relaxed again. He knew he shouldn’t have noticedâ€”but he couldn’t help it. That small, shy reaction of hers was something he’d come to recognize, like a barrier she was always aware of but tried not to show.

They worked side by side, and he caught himself stealing glances at her, watching the way her hands moved expertly through the soil, her sleeves pushed up to her elbows, a loose curl falling across her cheek as she concentrated. She didn’t fit the image he’d grown used to in his world, but she had a beauty that felt real and unpolished, and he couldn’t help but feel drawn to it.

When she caught him staring, he quickly looked away, focusing too hard on the tomatoes. Her chuckle was soft, but it sent warmth through him, a sensation that was becoming far too familiar.

After they finished, she sat back, brushing dirt from her hands. “Not bad, Button,” she teased. “Didn’t expect you to get through it without complaining.”

“I’m just full of surprises,” he replied, a hint of flirtation slipping into his tone. But she didn’t react the way he expected. Instead, she looked away, her smile fading slightly as she fiddled with her sleeve.

He cleared his throat, feeling a pang of regret. He wanted to keep things light, but every time he leaned into his usual charm, he could feel her pulling back, as if she was reminding herself of who he was. A playboy, someone who didn’t take rootsâ€”someone she couldn’t risk trusting too much.

A couple more days passed in much the same way, each night ending by the fire, with the two of them sitting across from each other in a comfortable silence. Jenson could tell she was starting to let her guard down, her laughter coming a little more easily, her gaze meeting his for a moment longer. But every time he thought he’d inched closer, she’d turn away, and he’d be left feeling an ache he couldn’t quite name.

One evening, as they sat watching the stars from her front porch, she spoke, her voice soft. “You ever think about slowing down?”

He looked over, surprised by the question. She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze fixed on the night sky, but he could tell she was curious, genuinely wanting to know.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, feeling a strange vulnerability in the admission. “There’s a rush to it allâ€”the speed, the fame. It’s exciting, butâ€¦sometimes it feels like I’m chasing something that’s always just out of reach.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I think you just need to figure out what you’re really looking for.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, the quiet truth in them resonating with something deep inside. He glanced over, his gaze tracing the soft curve of her face in the moonlight, and for a second, he wanted to reach out, to touch her hand and tell her he was tired of running, that maybe he was starting to find what he needed here.

But he held back, settling instead for a sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time, charged with something neither of them acknowledged. She fidgeted with her sleeve, her gaze still on the stars, her expression guarded.

When she finally spoke, her tone was soft, almost hesitant. “I know what people think of me. I know I don’t fit the picture.” She paused, swallowing. “It’s just that people like youâ€¦you don’t stick around for long.”

Jenson’s heart twisted at her words, and he forced himself to look away, guilt creeping up his spine. He hadn’t meant to make her feel that way, hadn’t realized how much he wanted her to see him differently. But he knew she was right, knew she had every reason to be wary.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud. The words hung between them, fragile and raw, a confession he hadn’t expected to make.

Y/N glanced over, her eyes softening just a little, but she didn’t respond, didn’t reassure him. Instead, she offered him a small, understanding smile before turning back to the stars.

In that quiet moment, he realized just how deeply she was affecting himâ€”and how much it would mean to break through her walls. But he also understood that this was her choice, not his, and he’d have to be patient, no matter how much it hurt to hold back.

As he sat there, his heart heavy and uncertain, he knew this wasn’t going to be easy. It would take time, a slow burn he hadn’t experienced before, and he’d have to earn every small piece of her trust. And for the first time, he didn’t mind the wait.

Days turned into weeks, and Jenson was still there, still making himself useful around the house, still sharing quiet dinners and lazy evenings on the porch with Y/N. He found himself enjoying the small routines, even catching himself looking forward to the little thingsâ€”her laughter, the way she’d pause when she caught him staring, or the way she’d turn away when he said something that flustered her.

One warm afternoon, Y/N asked him to help fix the old barn door, which had started to creak and jam. They spent hours wrestling with the stubborn hinges, dust and dirt clinging to their clothes as they struggled with bolts and screws. Jenson had grease on his hands and a splinter in his finger, but he didn’t careâ€”he found himself laughing with her, the kind of laugh that came easily, without thought.

“Alright, let’s give it another try,” she said, leaning her weight into the door as he adjusted the latch. When it finally swung open smoothly, she let out a triumphant whoop, her eyes shining with accomplishment.

“See?” he said, grinning. “I’m not totally useless.”

She rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “Maybe not. You’re a little better than I expected, city boy.”

He took a step closer, still smiling, and their eyes met. For a long, charged moment, they stood there, the barn around them filled with dust and sunlight, and he felt a strange, urgent longing to close the distance between them. He wanted to brush a thumb over the smudge on her cheek, to feel the warmth of her skin.

But as he reached out, she turned away, breaking the spell. She busied herself with packing up the tools, her shoulders tense, and Jenson felt the familiar ache return, sharper this time. She was pulling back again, and he could feel her putting up her guard.

Later that evening, as they sat by the fire, he found himself glancing over at her, watching as she sipped her tea. She was quieter than usual, her gaze distant, lost in thought.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She looked up, startled, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “Yeah,” she replied, her voice a little too light. “Justâ€¦thinking.”

“About?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his expression open, inviting her to share.

She hesitated, glancing down at her mug. “I don’t know. I guess it’s justâ€¦sometimes it’s hard to believe this is real. You being here, us getting along. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you toâ€¦to get bored and leave.”

Her words struck him, and he felt a pang of frustrationâ€”mostly at himself. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, that he was here for her, but he knew words wouldn’t mean much right now. She’d heard them all before from people who hadn’t stayed.

Instead, he took a slow breath. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly, his voice laced with sincerity. “I’m here, Y/N. For as long as you’ll have me.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his face, and he saw the faintest glimmer of hope there, mixed with hesitation. She wanted to believe himâ€”he could see it. But there was a shadow of fear, a wall he’d have to keep chipping away at, piece by agonizing piece.

That night, as he lay awake on the couch, he found himself thinking about her, about the way she kept him at arm’s length, always on the verge of letting him in but never quite taking that final step. He wanted to earn her trust, to prove that he was different. But he also knew he’d have to be patient, even if it meant waiting in that fragile, uncertain space between friendship and something more.

The next morning, he decided to surprise her by making breakfast. He wasn’t much of a cook, but he’d learned a few basics over the years, and he figured he could manage something simple. He found a recipe for pancakes and set to work, determined to make it perfect.

By the time she came downstairs, the kitchen was a messâ€”flour dusting the counters, a few burnt attempts stacked on the plate, and Jenson himself looking more than a little frazzled.

She stopped in the doorway, her mouth twitching with amusement. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Breakfast,” he said, holding up a slightly misshapen pancake. “I thought I’d return the favor.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she came over to inspect his work. “Well, I’ll give you points for effort.”

They sat down together, and despite the mess and a few burnt edges, she ate every bite, teasing him lightly the whole time. But there was something warm in her gaze, a softness he hadn’t seen before, and he found himself grinning like an idiot.

They spent the rest of the morning cleaning up, her laughter filling the air as she teased him about his cooking skills, and he felt closer to her in that moment than he had before. It wasn’t a grand gesture, wasn’t a sweeping declaration of loveâ€”but it was real, and it felt like a step forward.

And slowly, day by day, he found himself falling for her more deeply than he’d thought possible. She was a mystery, a quiet strength, and he found himself wanting to learn every part of her, to earn her trust in the only way that matteredâ€”by staying.

The days seemed to blur together after that. Morning after morning, they fell into a comfortable routine. Jenson had started to feel more at home in her worldâ€”more at peace with the slower pace of life in her small town. He found himself looking forward to the simple things: their walks by the lake, her teasing remarks about his cooking, and the way she would linger on the porch at dusk, lost in her thoughts as the sky turned soft pink and purple.

But despite all the little moments they shared, Y/N still kept him at arm’s length. There were nights when she would let him in a little, her walls lowering just enough for him to see the woman beneath the guarded exterior. And then there were nights when she would retreat, her smile polite but distant, as if she was reminding herself that he didn’t belong hereâ€”not really.

Jenson was starting to get frustrated. He knew he had to be patient, but every time he saw her pull away, his chest tightened with a familiar ache. She was so close, yet so far out of reach.

One evening, they sat on the front porch after dinner, the sun setting in the distance, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and purples. He’d caught her looking at him a few times, her gaze flicking away the moment their eyes met, but she didn’t say anything. She was quiet tonightâ€”too quiet.

“Y/N,” he said softly, trying to break the silence between them. “What are you really afraid of?”

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer, but then she exhaled slowly, looking out over the yard.

“I’m afraid of getting hurt,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of letting someone in again, only for them to leave. Or worse, of them not really caring.” Her gaze turned inward, and he could tell she was fighting the emotions rising within her.

Jenson’s heart sank. He had known it was coming, but hearing it from her made it feel all the more real. She had been burned beforeâ€”maybe more than onceâ€”and now she was afraid to take another chance.

“You think I’m just going to leave?” he asked, his voice steady despite the tightness in his chest. He couldn’t hide the hurt in his eyes, though. “You really think I’m like the others?”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking to his, but she didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, heavy between them.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm. “I don’t know if I can trust that you won’t. I know you’re not like the others, but I’ve been down that road before, Jenson. I’ve let someone in and watched them walk away, and itâ€¦ it’s not something I can just forget.”

Her words hit him like a blow to the chest. The vulnerability she was showingâ€”something so raw, so openâ€”tore at him. He wanted to hold her, to tell her he wouldn’t hurt her, that he’d never hurt her. But he knew that wouldn’t be enough, not when the scars of her past were so deep.

Instead, he shifted closer, just enough to be near her, but not so close that it felt like he was pushing her. “I’m not asking for you to forget,” he said gently. “I’m just asking for you to trust me. And I know that’s not easy. But I want to be here, Y/N. For you. I’m not going anywhere.”

She met his gaze then, her eyes searching his face for any sign of insincerity. He held her stare, hoping she could see that he meant every word.

She took a shaky breath, looking away as a faint blush colored her cheeks. “I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Jenson’s heart ached for her. He didn’t know the full story of her past, but he knew enough to understand that it had shaped her into someone who had learned to protect herself at all costs. And he didn’t blame her for it. But it didn’t make the distance between them any easier to bear.

He stayed silent, giving her the space she needed, but his mind raced with the desire to prove to her that he wasn’t like the others. He had no idea how long it would takeâ€”how much more patience it would requireâ€”but he was willing to wait for her.

As the night settled in, Y/N stood up slowly, brushing her hands off on her jeans. “I should get some rest,” she said, her voice barely audible. She gave him a small, almost apologetic smile. “Thanks for dinner. Andâ€¦ for helping with the barn.”

Jenson nodded, standing as well. “Anytime,” he said, his voice soft.

She gave him a brief nod before turning and heading inside, her footsteps fading into the house.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the porch where she had just been. He wanted to go after her, to say something more, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Not tonight.

The next morning, Jenson woke to find a cup of coffee waiting for him on the kitchen counter, the warm aroma filling the house. He didn’t hear Y/N moving aroundâ€”she was always an early riserâ€”but he knew she’d been up long before him. She was always busy, always moving.

He sipped the coffee, his mind lingering on their conversation from the night before. Her fear was so clear to him now. He couldn’t erase it, couldn’t make her forget her past, but he could show her, little by little, that he was here to stay.

After finishing his coffee, he grabbed his jacket and stepped outside, determined to help out with whatever needed doing today. As he wandered through the yard, he spotted her in the garden, once again tending to the plants, her movements slow and deliberate.

He stood back, watching her for a moment. The sun was high in the sky now, the warmth of the day beginning to settle around them. There was something beautiful in the way she cared for this little piece of the worldâ€”something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, his voice cutting through the quiet. “Need some help with that?”

Y/N turned at the sound of his voice, and for a moment, their gazes locked. The connection was almost tangible, and Jenson felt a rush of hope stir inside him. She didn’t pull away, didn’t look away in that familiar way. Instead, she gave him a small, hesitant nod.

“Sure,” she said softly, handing him a small trowel. “You might actually be getting the hang of this.”

Jenson smiled, accepting the tool from her, but this time, it felt different. She wasn’t retreating; she wasn’t holding back. It was only a small thing, but it was progress. And for the first time in days, he felt like maybe, just maybe, they were moving closer.

The last week of winter break had arrived faster than either of them had expected. The crisp air of early January carried a weight to it, a sense of finality that both Jenson and Y/N had been avoiding for weeks.

Jenson tried not to think about it. The thought of leaving this small corner of North Carolina, leaving her, gnawed at him more than he cared to admit. The trip back to the UK for F1 was looming, and with it came the reminder of the life he had been running fromâ€”a life full of obligations, expectations, and a thousand distractions.

But it wasn’t just the thought of the race season that hung over him. It was Y/N.

He had told himself to keep his distance, to avoid getting too attached. But the truth was, he couldn’t help it. She had gotten under his skin in ways he didn’t know were possible. The soft way she laughed, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her little corner of the world, the way she pushed him away without ever meaning toâ€”he was falling for her, hard and fast.

And now, with the end of winter break creeping closer, he could feel her pulling away in return. She had grown quieter, more withdrawn, as the inevitable departure drew nearer. Every conversation seemed to carry a hint of finality now, every touch a little more hesitant. It was like she was preparing herself for him to leave, and he hated it.

That evening, they were sitting on the porch again, the last of the light from the setting sun disappearing behind the trees. The cold air had them wrapped in their jackets, but there was no escaping the chill between them.

“You’ve been awfully quiet the past few days,” Jenson said, his voice betraying the nervousness that had been building in him all week.

Y/N didn’t meet his eyes immediately. Instead, she stared out at the darkening horizon, her fingers playing absently with the hem of her sweater. “I’ve just been thinking,” she said, her voice distant. “Aboutâ€¦ everything.”

Jenson felt a tight knot in his chest. “About what?” he pressed gently.

She let out a quiet breath, the tension in the air thickening. “About you leaving,” she finally said, her voice small. “And what happens after that.”

He swallowed hard. The weight of her words hit him like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, he couldn’t think of anything to say. His mind raced, heart pounding in his chest.

“Y/Nâ€¦” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I know how this works, Jenson. You’ll go back to the UK, to your life, and I’ll stay here. Thisâ€”whatever this isâ€”it’s not real. You know that, right?”

Jenson felt something crack inside of him. He had known it was coming, but hearing her say it out loud felt like a punch to the gut. “Is that really what you think?” he asked, his voice rough. “You think thisâ€”this time we’ve spent togetherâ€”isn’t real?”

Her eyes flicked to him, but she quickly looked away again, her jaw tightening. “I can’t do this,” she said, her words almost a whisper. “I can’t let myself get too close, Jenson. I can’t let you in because I know it’s just going to hurt when you leave.”

The rawness in her voice cut through him like a knife. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t going anywhere, that he would find a way to make it work, but the truth was, he didn’t know how. He didn’t know how to make her believe him, how to convince her that he was different.

“I’m not like the others, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice almost pleading. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want this to end.”

But even as he said the words, he knew they sounded hollow. She didn’t believe himâ€”not yet.

“Why would you want to stay?” she asked, her voice bitter, though it was clear she was trying to hold back tears. “You’re Jenson Button. You could be with anyone you want. You don’t need someone like me. I’m justâ€¦”

“Stop,” he cut her off, standing up suddenly, his frustration boiling over. “Don’t say that. You’re not ‘just’ anything. You’re everything I’ve wanted these past few weeks.”

She shook her head, a sad smile tugging at her lips. “You’re leaving, Jenson. You’ll forget all about me when you’re back in the UK. And I won’t be left here, holding onto something that isn’t real.”

The words stung, more than he had expected, and he felt the weight of her fears crash down on him. He wanted to tell her how wrong she was. He wanted to pull her into his arms and make her understand that he didn’t want this to end. But there was a part of him, deep down, that feared she was right.

For a long time, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched on, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves in the trees and the distant sound of a dog barking somewhere in the town. Jenson stayed where he was, his eyes trained on her, but she refused to look up at him.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Y/N stood up, the movement sharp and final. “I think I need some space,” she said, her voice tight. “I’llâ€¦ I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before he could say anything, she turned and walked inside, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that left Jenson feeling like he had been struck.

That night, Jenson lay awake, staring at the ceiling of the guest room, his mind racing. Every part of him wanted to fix this, to find a way to show her that he wasn’t going anywhere, but he knew that, right now, words weren’t enough. He had to prove it.

The clock on the wall ticked louder than usual in the silence, and Jenson found himself counting the minutes until he would have to leave, feeling the weight of his departure heavier with every passing second. And he wondered, with a sinking feeling in his chest, if he would leave without ever getting the chance to show Y/N that what they hadâ€”what he felt for herâ€”was real.

The days leading up to Jenson’s departure were filled with a quiet intensity, a blend of unspoken words and lingering touches. Jenson had given Y/N the space she had asked for, but it wasn’t the distance she had anticipated. Instead, he remained just close enough, a presence she couldn’t escape, even when she tried to retreat into her own thoughts.

They fell into a rhythm that was both familiar and new. Jenson would spend the morning doing his final prep work for his trip back to the UK, while Y/N would keep herself busy with small tasks around the house, always within proximity of him but never quite meeting his gaze for too long.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t easy either. Every time Jenson caught her looking at himâ€”just a momentary glanceâ€”he felt the pull of something unspoken. But she would look away quickly, as though trying to outrun whatever it was that was beginning to grow between them.

It was the evening before he was set to leave, and they had fallen into the habit of taking long walks in the nearby woods as the sun set, allowing the space to breathe between them, even if the silence was still thick.

Tonight, though, something felt different. There was an unease in the air, something heavier than before. Neither of them spoke much as they walked, the only sound being the crunch of the snow beneath their boots. The golden-orange light of the setting sun was fading fast, casting long shadows across the trees.

Jenson noticed that Y/N’s hands were shoved deep in her pockets, her shoulders hunched against the cold. She was quiet, almost too quiet, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, something neither of them was ready for.

He stopped walking, and after a moment, Y/N stopped too, her eyes flicking toward him as she stood a few feet away, waiting.

“Y/N,” Jenson began, his voice softer than before, almost tentative. “You know that I’m going to miss you, right?”

She didn’t respond immediately. Her breath came out in a puff of white vapor, and her eyes were on the ground, her lips pressed together tightly. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t the words he had expected.

“Do you really think you’ll miss me once you’re back in the UK?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with something he couldn’t quite read.

Jenson frowned, taking a step closer to her. “Of course I will,” he said, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away, Y/N. I’m here, right now, and I’m not asking for anything more thanâ€¦ than what we have.”

Y/N looked at him then, and for a moment, he saw the vulnerability in her eyesâ€”raw and unguarded. “But that’s the problem, Jenson,” she said quietly, her voice breaking the stillness between them. “You say that now, but I don’t know what’s going to happen when you’re gone. You don’t get it. Iâ€¦ I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m just another place for you to stop on your way to something else. And I’m tired of being like that.”

Jenson’s heart twisted in his chest, the words hitting him harder than he expected. He had no idea that this was how she had been feeling all alongâ€”that she felt like she was just temporary to him.

“Y/N, you’re not just another stop for me,” he said urgently, his voice almost a plea. “You’re not a place to pass through. I’m not going back to the UK and pretending like this never happened. Youâ€¦ you mean more to me than that.”

She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. “You say that now, but I can’t keep letting myself believe it. I can’t keep letting myself hope that you’ll stay, that this isn’t just a fleeting thing for you. Because I’m not going to be the one who’s left heartbroken in the end. I won’t be the one who’s hurt when you walk away.”

Her words were like a slap, and Jenson flinched, his chest tightening with frustration and guilt. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said firmly, stepping forward, though still hesitant to close the distance between them. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N. But I need you to trust me. I need you to believe me when I say that I’m not leaving you behind.”

She wiped her cheek quickly, avoiding his eyes as she took a small step back, wrapping her arms around herself as though trying to hold herself together. “I don’t know if I can, Jenson. I really don’t. And I hate that I feel like this. I want to believe you. God, I really do. But I’m justâ€¦ I’m scared.”

Jenson stepped forward again, slower this time, as if moving too fast might break whatever fragile hold they still had on each other. He reached for her hands, gently taking them in his, feeling the coldness in her fingers and the tremor in her touch.

“Then let me show you,” he said softly. “Let me prove to you that I’m not going anywhere. I’m not asking for you to trust me completely overnight. I justâ€¦ I just want a chance.”

Her eyes searched his face, torn between the part of her that wanted to believe him and the part that couldn’t let go of the fear of getting hurt again. After a long pause, she sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping in resignation.

“I can’t make you any promises, Jenson,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. “I can’t give you what you want right now.”

He nodded slowly, understanding that this wasn’t something he could rush, that pushing her would only push her away.

“But I’m here. I’m here, Y/N,” he repeated. “And I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

She looked down at their intertwined hands for a moment, the cold air swirling around them. Then, with a soft sigh, she nodded. “Okay. But you’d better keep your word.”

Jenson smiled slightly, relief flooding through him. “I’ll keep it. I swear.”

And for the first time since he’d arrived in North Carolina, it felt like a small part of the weight had been lifted. There was still so much uncertainty between them, but there was also a flicker of hope, a willingness to let things unfold at their own pace.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

It was the morning that Y/N had been dreading for days. The house felt different, quieterâ€”emptier. She had done her best to pretend that it was just another normal morning, but every little thing reminded her that this was the end of the chapter. Jenson was leaving.

He was in the kitchen, brewing coffee, his movements almost mechanical, like he was trying to keep his emotions in check, too. She watched him from the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, her heart heavy.

“I’ve got to hit the road soon,” he said, not looking at her, his voice low and almost apologetic.

Y/N nodded but didn’t speak. Her throat felt tight, like there was a lump lodged in there, too big to swallow. She had told herself she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t let the sadness overwhelm her, but now that the moment was here, it was hard to keep the tears at bay.

Jenson turned to look at her, his gaze softer than usual. “You okay?”

“No,” she whispered, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. “No, I’m not okay.”

He didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he closed the distance between them, his steps measured, cautious, as if he, too, was fighting the urge to let the moment slip into something more than just a goodbye.

“I don’t want you to go,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. The words slipped out before she could stop them, and once they were out, she couldn’t take them back. She felt her pulse quicken, and the weight of what she was saying hit her all at once.

Jenson’s expression softened even further, and he reached for her, his hand resting gently on her arm. His touch was warm, grounding. “I don’t want to go either,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “But I have to. I’ve got to get back. Work calls, and Iâ€¦ I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to hold back the wave of sadness that threatened to crash over her. She had known this day was coming. She had prepared for it. Or at least, she thought she had.

“Is that all this was to you, Jenson?” Her voice cracked, and she quickly wiped away a stray tear that had managed to escape. “Just a summer fling?”

His eyes widened, and he took a step closer to her, his hand brushing against her cheek. “No,” he said firmly, his thumb gently stroking her skin. “It’s not like that, Y/N. It’s never been like that. You mean more to me than just some passing fling.”

“Then why does it feel like it was all justâ€¦ temporary?” she whispered, her voice so small she barely recognized it. “Like I was just some distraction?”

“Because I’m leaving,” he replied, his words almost strained. “And that’s the hard part. You’re right. It’s temporary. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t mean anything. It meant everything.”

There was a long silence between them, both of them standing there, the weight of the unsaid things hanging heavy in the air.

“I don’t know what happens next,” Jenson said after a moment, his voice softer now, as if he, too, was grappling with the reality of the situation. “I don’t know what the future holds, butâ€¦ I don’t want to say goodbye to you like this. Not without you knowing that I care. A lot.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her eyes searching his, looking for the sincerity she needed to hear.

“I care too,” she said quietly, her words almost a confession, though she had been keeping her feelings hidden for so long. “But I’m scared, Jenson. I don’t know how to make this work when you’re so far away.”

Jenson nodded, the sadness in his eyes matching the ache in her chest. “I’m scared, too. But maybeâ€¦ maybe we can figure it out. One day at a time.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. What could she say? That would make it easier? That would make it feel less like her heart was being torn in two?

Instead, she stepped closer to him, her hand finding his, intertwining their fingers. “One day at a time,” she repeated, her voice steady now. She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t want this to end. But the reality was, it had to.

A few hours later, they were standing by his car, the engine running, the sun slowly rising in the distance, painting the sky with soft hues of orange and pink. Jenson had his bags packed, the trunk open, and Y/N stood there, watching him with a heavy heart.

“Guess this is it,” he said, his voice quieter now, the weight of the moment settling in.

Y/N nodded but couldn’t find the words. It felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs, and all she could do was stand there and look at him. Look at him like he was about to disappear forever.

“I’ll miss you,” she said finally, her voice small but clear. The words felt foreign on her lips, but they were the truth. She would miss him more than she could bear to admit.

“I’ll miss you too,” he replied, his gaze softening. He stepped closer to her, his hand reaching up to gently cup her cheek. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“I know,” she whispered, her breath shaky. “But you have to.”

Jenson leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. It was a gentle touch, one that spoke volumes of everything they hadn’t said yet.

“I’ll call you,” he promised quietly. “I’ll stay in touch. I’llâ€¦ I’ll come back, if I can.”

She nodded, her heart aching. “You better,” she replied, a small, bittersweet smile on her lips.

He paused for a moment, looking at her one last time, his eyes full of everything he couldn’t say. Then, without another word, he climbed into his car, started the engine, and drove away.

Y/N stood there, watching him disappear down the road, her heart heavy but full of something she couldn’t quite name. Something that wasn’t just goodbye.

It was hope. A hope that this wasn’t the end.

The days following Jenson’s departure felt like they moved in slow motion. Y/N found herself waking up in the mornings with a lingering ache in her chest, the absence of his warmth beside her a constant reminder of everything that had changed.

The house felt bigger now, emptier. She could still smell him in the air, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the corners of the rooms. She tried to go about her usual routineâ€”work, errands, and even spending time with friendsâ€”but everything felt off. Every little thing reminded her of him.

The space where he had once been seemed too large to fill, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a mistake. Maybe she had pushed him away too soon. Maybe she hadn’t tried hard enough to make it work. But the truth was, she was terrified. Terrified of getting hurt, terrified of opening herself up completely to someone who might not be able to stay. She had always been afraid of that. Of letting someone in, only to have them leave.

One afternoon, while sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Jenson.

Jenson:

Hey you. Just wanted to check in. I miss you.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment before responding. The weight of his words settled deep within her, and she felt the familiar tug of longing she had been trying to ignore.

Y/N:

I miss you too.

How’s everything?

The reply came quickly.

Jenson:

It’s been tough. Getting back into the swing of things here. But I’m thinking about you a lot.

Y/N’s heart fluttered, and she leaned back in her chair, staring out at the quiet street. She had thought about him constantly, but it was hard to know where to go from here. What could she say? Could they really make this work from a distance?

Y/N:

I’m trying to adjust too. It’s just different here without you.

She paused before hitting send, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell him that she wished he hadn’t left. That she wished they could figure this out, but she wasn’t sure if he felt the same way. She wasn’t sure if he was just saying these things because it was easy or if he genuinely meant them.

Finally, she typed:

Y/N:

Are you sure you want this? Me and you, I mean?

I don’t know if I can handle it if it’s just going to be temporary again.

It wasn’t a question she had intended to ask, but it had slipped out before she could stop it. She hit send before she could rethink it.

A few minutes passed. Then the phone buzzed again.

Jenson:

I don’t want anything temporary with you. I don’t. But I don’t know what the future holds either. I know I should’ve been clearer with you about that.

Y/N felt her pulse quicken, her chest tightening with the weight of his words. He hadn’t been clear with her. He had left with so many things unsaid, so many things she still wasn’t sure about. But now, here they were, trying to figure it out over a screen, when all she wanted was to be there with him, feeling his presence instead of this aching distance.

Y/N:

I’m scared, Jenson. I’m scared of getting hurt. I thought I could handle this, but I’m not sure I can.

I don’t know if I’m ready for something long distance.

Another pause. The message she received back was a little slower, as though he were taking time to consider her words.

Jenson:

I get it, Y/N. I do. It’s not easy, and it won’t be. But I care about you. I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to.

Y/N let out a shaky breath as she read his words. She didn’t want him to go anywhere. Not really. But how could she let him in when she was so afraid of losing him?

She typed, her fingers trembling a little as she shared her truth.

Y/N:

I don’t want you to go anywhere. I just don’t know how to do thisâ€¦ how to make it work, when everything about this feels like it’s going to end before it even starts.

It was a raw, vulnerable moment. Her fears were laid out in front of him, and now, there was no taking them back.

Jenson:

I can’t promise you everything will be perfect, because I know it won’t be. But I can promise I’m not giving up on us. I don’t care how hard it is.

For a long time, Y/N just stared at the message. A wave of emotion surged within her, a mixture of relief and fear, of hope and uncertainty. Jenson wasn’t asking her to be perfect. He wasn’t asking her to make a decision right now. He was simply offering his heart, and for the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe she could let herself believe in something.

Y/N:

I’m scared, Jensonâ€¦ but maybe we can try. One day at a time.

It was a fragile start, one full of uncertainty, but it was also a beginning. And for the first time, Y/N felt like maybe the future wasn’t as terrifying as she had once thought.

A week later, Y/N was sitting on the porch, looking out at the same view that had felt so empty when Jenson first left. But this time, the silence felt different. Not so heavy. She had stopped feeling so completely alone. They were still figuring it outâ€”still working through the distance, still taking it one day at a time.

Her phone buzzed again, and when she looked down, it was a video call request from Jenson.

She smiled, pressing the green button.

“Hey,” she said softly when his face filled the screen. “How’s the UK?”

“It’s cold,” he replied with a grin. “But not as cold as you were when I left.”

Y/N chuckled, a warmth spreading in her chest. “Well, I had my reasons.”

“Yeah,” Jenson said, his eyes softening. “But I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N’s heart swelled, and for the first time in a while, she let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, this would work.

As the days stretched into weeks and weeks into months, Y/N and Jenson’s relationship morphed into something that neither of them had anticipated. The distance between themâ€”measured in time zones, countries, and the miles that separated themâ€”felt both impossible and manageable, depending on the day.

The first few weeks were the hardest. Both of them were adjusting to the new normal, trying to maintain their connection despite the obvious gaps. Y/N went back to her routine, but it was missing somethingâ€”someoneâ€”and she couldn’t quite shake the feeling of loneliness that came with being apart from him. Jenson, on the other hand, threw himself back into his busy F1 schedule, but every press conference, every race weekend, felt hollow without her there to share it with him.

But they were trying. One message, one call at a time.

At first, they spoke every dayâ€”short messages during the day, quick video calls late at night, sometimes even while they were both in the middle of something. Y/N would share her day with him, telling him about the little thingsâ€”like how she found a new coffee shop that she thought he would love or how she managed to finish a project at work she had been putting off. Jenson would send her little updates from the paddock or from his travels, sending pictures of his hotel view or the team car, hoping to make her feel like she was there with him.

They had started to get into a rhythm. Texts at breakfast, calls during his downtime, long goodnight texts when the day was over. But the time difference made it harder to maintain the closeness they once shared when everything was in the same time zone.

One evening, after a late call, Y/N leaned back against her couch, her phone still in her hand. Jenson had just sent his usual “Sweet dreams, love. I’ll call you tomorrow.” But it didn’t feel the same. The goodbye wasn’t the same. She wished she could curl up next to him, resting her head on his chest like they used to.

The honeymoon phase of their long-distance relationship didn’t last long. There were moments of frustrationâ€”when the time zones made it impossible to find a time to talk, or when one of them had a bad day and didn’t know how to navigate the emotional distance. Sometimes, a small argument would spark over something insignificant. Y/N would feel like she was missing him more than she could express, and Jenson would struggle with the guilt of not being able to be there for her in the way he wanted.

It was late one night when Y/N sent him a message that was different from their usual texts.

Y/N:

I miss you more than I can handle sometimes. I know it’s hard, and I know it’s not your fault. But it doesn’t make it easier. I just want to be with you, Jenson.

Jenson’s response was immediate, and this time, there was a heaviness to his words that Y/N had never felt before.

Jenson:

I feel the same way. I hate that this is the reality we’re dealing with. I don’t want you to feel like you’re on your own, because you’re not. But it’s hard for me too. So much harder than I thought it would be.

Her heart twisted at his words. She wanted to reach through the screen, hold him, tell him it was all going to be okay. But the distance between them felt so insurmountable at that moment.

Y/N:

I know. I justâ€¦ I don’t want to lose what we had. You mean so much to me, Jenson. But sometimes it feels like we’re just two people, trying to keep it together over a phone screen.

Jenson took a long time to respond. Y/N sat there, staring at her screen, her chest tight with the heaviness of the unspoken things that hung in the air.

Finally, his words came through.

Jenson:

I’m not going anywhere. I can’t promise it’s going to be easy, but I’m not giving up on this. On us.

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief at the words. He wasn’t giving up. She wasn’t either, but sometimes it felt like they were living in two different worlds.

The days blurred together after that conversation, but they started to find their rhythm again, even if it wasn’t always perfect. They had their routineâ€”good mornings, late-night calls, texts sent in between work and races. Jenson would surprise her with little gifts or messages that reminded her he was thinking of her, and she would do the same, whether it was sending him something she knew would make him smile or leaving him voicemails filled with silly little things from her day.

Still, they both felt the longing. Jenson was often on the road, and the endless airports, hotels, and race weekends left little room for anything outside of the job. For a while, that was the hardest part for Y/N. He was always so busy, and the guilt he felt for not being able to be there with her was evident every time they spoke.

But even amidst the chaos, there were moments where it felt like they were right there with each other. Moments like when they’d be video chatting, and Jenson would pick up his guitar, playing a soft tune for her, or when Y/N would text him a picture of the sunset from her front porch and he’d send one right back from wherever he was in the world.

Their bond was growing in ways neither of them had expected. They weren’t just a couple anymore. They were a teamâ€”fighting the distance and the frustrations, but also finding ways to make it work. The connection was there, even if the miles weren’t.

But the tough times were never far away. There were days when the silence after a call felt deafening. Days when Y/N couldn’t help but feel that ache in her chest, wondering if Jenson was truly as committed to this as he said. There were days when Jenson would be so consumed by his schedule that he’d forget to reply to a message, and Y/N would be left questioning if he was starting to drift away.

It was during one of those tough stretches that Y/N finally asked him the question that had been lingering in her mind for weeks.

Y/N:

Do you think we can really do this? Can we make it through the distance?

Jenson’s response came slowly, but when it did, his words were exactly what Y/N needed to hear.

Jenson:

I think we can. I think we have to. Because I don’t want anyone else. I want you. And I’m not giving up on that.

Her heart fluttered at the honesty in his words. It wasn’t going to be easy, and she knew that. But maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. The uncertainty, the doubts, the longingâ€”they were all part of the journey now. And Y/N realized that if they could make it through this, they could make it through anything.

As the months wore on, Y/N and Jenson found their way through the chaos of their long-distance relationship. Each day brought a new challenge, but also a new discovery about the strength of their bond. Even though they hadn’t yet admitted the depth of their feelings for each other, it was becoming clearer every day that something was shifting. They were both too stubborn to let go, too connected to truly walk away.

The rhythm of their relationship became a steady pulse in the background of their busy lives. It was simple, yet comforting. Jenson would wake up to a message from Y/N, wishing him luck for the day ahead. Even if he was halfway across the world, that little message made the miles feel a little less daunting.

Y/N began sending him more pictures of her day-to-day lifeâ€”images of the bakery she’d stumbled across, photos of her hiking in the Appalachian Mountains, or her cozy nights with her friends, showing off her small town life in a way that made Jenson feel like he was part of it, even from a distance.

And Jenson, always thoughtful, would send her little surprises. It wasn’t always materialâ€”sometimes it was a funny meme or an inside joke that reminded her of the times they’d shared. Other times, it was more personal, like the text he sent one morning while waiting for his flight:

Jenson:

I can’t wait to get back to you. I’m counting down the days.

It wasn’t over-the-top or dramatic, but it was enough. Enough for Y/N to know he was thinking of her, even in the rush of his high-speed life.

But even as they found a rhythm, there was still an undercurrent of tension. The kind that didn’t make things difficult, but made everything feel like it was building up to something. It was in the way they texted each other, the way the conversations grew more intimate, and the way the silences between them didn’t feel awkward but meaningful.

One night, after a late-night phone call where they’d shared more than usual about their lives, Jenson lingered on the line for a moment longer than usual.

Jenson:

Hey, Y/Nâ€¦ I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve never felt this connected to someone before.

Y/N’s heart skipped. It was a simple statement, but it carried weight. She hadn’t quite processed the magnitude of what he said, but it felt like it had shifted something in her chest.

Y/N:

I don’t mind. I justâ€¦ I feel the same. It’s weird, right? Being so far away from each other but still feeling thisâ€¦ close?

Jenson chuckled softly, and she could hear the tiredness in his voice.

Jenson:

Yeah, it’s crazy. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Y/N smiled to herself, a mixture of warmth and uncertainty flowing through her. She didn’t know what to do with the words they were exchanging, but she knew she didn’t want them to stop.

One evening, Y/N had just finished dinner when she received a message from Jenson. The time difference made it impossible for them to chat during the evening sometimes, so she tried to soak in the brief moments they could have together. But tonight, something was different.

Jenson:

You look amazing in your photos. I’m sorry I don’t tell you that enough, but I think about you every single day.

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, her chest tight. It was rare for Jenson to be this open with his feelings, and though he wasn’t professing undying love, the sentiment felt significant. It hit her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Y/N:

I know it’s crazy, but I think about you every day too. And I can’t wait for you to come back. We still have a lot of things to figure out, but we’re getting there, right?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of how to express the anxiety she felt. Their connection was growing, but the distance still felt like a wall, a barrier they were constantly pushing against. It was difficult to keep pretending that everything was fine, that everything would just work out.

Jenson:

We are getting there. And when I come backâ€¦ we’ll have time to talk about everything. No more running away from it.

Y/N felt a small knot form in her stomach. There it wasâ€”he was hinting at it. The conversation that had been building for months. But she wasn’t ready to have it. Not yet.

As the weeks turned into months, the little things continued to add up. Y/N started to see a change in Jensenâ€”less the carefree playboy he had been when they first met, and more of the person he was when he was with her. More thoughtful. More present. It was subtle, but it was there.

Sometimes, when he was back in the UK, he’d call her in the middle of the night just to hear her voice. He’d send her pictures of the places he visited, like an old pub or a quiet little street that reminded him of her town. He would even text her to tell her about the music he was listening to, asking her if she knew the band, a way to feel closer to her even when they were on opposite sides of the world.

And Y/N found herself doing the sameâ€”sending him songs that reminded her of their time together, asking him about the races and his life in the paddock. She made an effort to learn more about his world, even if she couldn’t be physically present in it.

One day, after a particularly long day for both of them, Y/N sat on her porch, sipping a glass of sweet tea, watching the stars flicker above. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see a text from Jenson. She smiled softly at the screen. It wasn’t much, just a “How’s your day, love?” but it hit her at that momentâ€”she wanted him here. Not just for the convenience or the comfort, but because he was her person.

Maybe they hadn’t said the words out loud yet, but it was becoming more and more obvious that they were both waiting for the other to take the first step. Neither of them wanted to risk putting their feelings on the line, but it was only a matter of time before they had to face the truth about what they were.

But for now, they were content to continue in this quiet, unspoken dance. For the first time, Y/N wasn’t afraid of where this would go. She just needed to be sure he felt the same way.

The days began to blur together in a comfortable, familiar rhythm. With each passing message, each late-night call, the invisible threads connecting Y/N and Jenson grew stronger. They were learning to trust each other from a distance, and in their own way, they were starting to reveal more than just the surface-level pleasantries. The laughter, the playful banter, and the occasional deep conversations about life and their hopes for the future became the foundation of something undeniably real.

Jenson’s race schedule was relentless, but whenever he could, he’d make time for her. Sometimes, it was a quick message in between meetings, or a call while he was relaxing at the hotel after a race. He was always the first to check in, even if it was just a brief, “How’s my favorite girl?” He knew it would make her smile, and that small action seemed to mean more than words could express.

Y/N, for her part, found herself looking forward to those messages more than she cared to admit. The day was never truly complete until she’d heard from him. She’d often find herself re-reading his texts, savoring his words, even if they seemed simple.

It wasn’t just the big gesturesâ€”like when Jenson would surprise her with a gift, or when he would insist on calling her even though it was early morning where he was. It was the little things: the way he’d text her first thing in the morning, even if it was just a single word, something casual. “Good morning,” he’d say. “Hope you slept well.” A sentiment so small, yet it carried with it so much warmth.

The hardest part was being so far apart. Y/N often thought about how different things might be if she could just hold his hand, feel his presence beside her. There was a yearning, an ache, that grew in her chest. She had tried so many times to convince herself that she was fine with the distance, that the space between them didn’t change how she felt. But the more they spoke, the clearer it became that what she felt for him was more than she had ever intended.

She missed him in ways she didn’t know how to put into words. Not just his presence, but the ease with which they spoke to each other, the way their conversations flowed naturally, as if they had known each other for years. It felt like something more was there, like something deep inside her was waking up, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time.

It was a weekend at the end of the season when things shifted, at least in Y/N’s heart. Jenson had just wrapped up his final race of the year, and although it had been a successful one, he was tired. His voice on the phone that evening was laced with exhaustion.

Jenson:

I’m glad it’s over. I love racing, but I’m so ready for a break.

I can’t believe how much I miss home, especiallyâ€¦

â€¦especially you.

Y/N smiled softly at his words, even though a slight ache lingered. He missed her, he said it often enough, but was it just the novelty of being back home after the season? Or was it something more?

Y/N:

I miss you too. You’ve got no idea how many times I’ve thought about what I’d do if you were here right nowâ€¦

Probably make you eat all the fried chicken in town.

Jenson let out a laugh, and for a brief moment, Y/N could hear the weariness lifting from his voice.

Jenson:

I could be convinced to do that. But only if you promise me some sweet tea on the side.

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine, filling the empty space between them.

Y/N:

Deal. But don’t expect me to go easy on youâ€”our chicken is some of the best in the world.

The conversation moved on, the banter easy and light, but as the night stretched on and the silence fell after the laughter, it was clear that both of them were holding back. There was an unspoken tension hanging in the air, something neither of them was willing to address fully.

Over the following weeks, the tension between them continued to grow, stretching tighter and tighter until it became almost unbearable. Their conversations deepened, the awkward silences between texts becoming fewer as they began to trust each other more and more. Jenson started to talk about things he hadn’t mentioned before, sharing more about his life outside of racingâ€”the parts of himself he kept hidden from the world. The vulnerable side of him was slowly creeping into their conversations, and Y/N couldn’t help but find herself opening up in return.

She told him about the things she hadn’t shared with anyone elseâ€”the quiet insecurities she kept hidden behind her confident smile, the fear that she wasn’t enough. The fear that someone like Jenson, someone who had so many options, could never truly care about her the way she wanted him to.

Y/N:

Do you ever feel likeâ€¦ you’re not enough? Like no matter what you do, it’s just never good enough for the people around you?

Jenson paused for a long moment, and Y/N could almost feel the weight of his thoughts on the other side of the line.

Jenson:

All the time. Especially in this world, with all the expectations. But it’s not about being enough for other people. It’s about being enough for yourselfâ€¦ and the people who matter.

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words, the warmth of them settling over her like a soft blanket.

Y/N:

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I’m enough. Not forâ€¦

Not for someone like you.

There was a beat of silence. Jenson’s voice came back, quieter, more serious.

Jenson:

Stop. You’re more than enough. You don’t have to be anything other than who you are for me to care about you. I care about you, Y/N. More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time.

Y/N’s heart skipped, a flutter of hope and disbelief. His wordsâ€”simple, but heavy with meaningâ€”felt like a balm to the insecurities she had kept locked away.

Y/N:

Jenson, Iâ€¦

But she couldn’t finish her sentence. There was too much she wanted to say, too much that was left unsaid, swirling in her chest. Yet, for the first time, she realized something important: she didn’t have to say it all right now. Not yet.

But someday she will.

The airport was bustling, voices and footsteps echoing off the tiled floors as travelers rushed by with suitcases and backpacks. Y/N stood near the arrival gate, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her palms damp despite the cool air-conditioned breeze. She glanced at the screen above, her heart skipping when the words “Arrived” flashed next to Jenson’s flight.

She adjusted the strap of her bag and straightened her posture, her nerves working overtime. It wasn’t the first time they were meeting in personâ€”not even closeâ€”but something about this moment felt different. More important.

When Jenson finally stepped through the doors, her breath caught in her throat. His figure was unmistakable, even from a distanceâ€”tall, lean, effortlessly confident, with that slight tousle of blond hair she’d come to associate with his charm. He was dressed casually in dark jeans and a plain white T-shirt, a leather jacket slung over one shoulder, but he looked every bit the celebrity she’d only seen on magazine covers before she knew him.

But then he saw her, and his whole face lit up. That cocky, F1-driver persona melted away in an instant, replaced with something softer, something just for her.

Jenson’s grin widened as he made his way through the crowd, and Y/N felt her heart stutter in her chest. He moved with purpose, his strides long and confident, until he was standing right in front of her.

“Hi,” he said, his voice low and warm, as though they hadn’t spoken just hours ago on the phone.

Y/N smiled back, her lips trembling slightly. “Hi.”

And then, before she could think of what to do next, he pulled her into his arms.

It wasn’t a hesitant hug or an awkward side squeeze. It was a Jenson hugâ€”all-encompassing, firm, and grounding. His arms wrapped securely around her shoulders, and his chin rested against the top of her head. He smelled of something familiarâ€”faint cologne and the faint scent of jet fuel clinging to his clothes.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N closed her eyes, sinking into the embrace as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I missed you, too,” she admitted, the words coming easier than she expected.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands resting on her arms. “You look good,” he said, his eyes scanning her face with an intensity that made her cheeks heat.

“Liar,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been up since five, and I spilled coffee on my shirt this morning.”

Jenson laughed, his grin crooked and charming. “Still beautiful,” he said simply, shrugging off her protests.

Her heart skipped at the sincerity in his tone, but she quickly waved him off, reaching for his carry-on bag instead. “Come on, let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you. You’ve been in the States for five minutes, and I’m not in the mood to play bodyguard.”

Jenson chuckled, grabbing the handle before she could take it. “You know I’d love to see you in action, protecting me from my adoring fans,” he said, but he let her lead the way toward the parking lot.

They fell into an easy rhythm as they walked, their footsteps echoing side by side. Y/N felt her nerves settle the more they talked, their banter as natural in person as it had been over the phone.

By the time they reached her truck, Jenson whistled low. “Still driving this thing, huh?” he teased, eyeing the old Chevy with mock skepticism.

“Don’t start,” Y/N said, shoving his shoulder playfully. “She runs just fine, and I don’t want to hear about your fancy cars. I don’t need a Ferrari to get to the grocery store.”

Jenson smirked as he tossed his bag into the back seat. “Fair enough. But if you ever want to take one for a spin, you know who to call.”

They climbed into the cab, and as Y/N started the engine, she caught him watching her from the passenger seat. “What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Jenson said quickly, but his grin gave him away. “I’m just glad to be here. With you.”

Her chest tightened at his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she focused on the road ahead as she pulled out of the parking lot, the weight of his gaze lingering on her profile.

The drive back to her place was filled with easy conversation, Jenson recounting stories from the season and Y/N filling him in on life in her small town. But beneath the lighthearted exchange, there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken.

When they finally pulled into her driveway, the sun was beginning to set, casting the house in a warm, golden glow. Y/N killed the engine and glanced over at him.

“Welcome back,” she said softly, her voice carrying more meaning than the words themselves.

Jenson smiled, his eyes warm. “It’s good to be back.”

They lingered for a moment longer, the air between them thick with unspoken emotions. But then Y/N shook her head, breaking the spell.

“Come on,” she said, pushing open her door. “You’ve got bags to unpack, and I’ve got dinner to make. Let’s go.”

Jenson followed her inside, but as he stepped through the threshold, he couldn’t help but think that this little house, this small-town life, already felt more like home than anywhere he’d ever been.

Jenson sat at the kitchen table, his long legs stretched out in front of him, as Y/N bustled around the kitchen. The scent of garlic and onions sizzling in a pan filled the air, mingling with the faint citrus of her dish soap and the cozy warmth of the house.

He leaned back in his chair, watching her as she moved. She wasn’t graceful in a conventional senseâ€”she wasn’t a whirlwind of elegance or perfect precision. But there was something about the way she worked, the confidence in her movements, the small, absentminded hum she let out as she stirred the pan, that felt utterly captivating.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, catching him staring. “What?” she asked, narrowing her eyes playfully.

Jenson grinned, unbothered by being caught. “Just thinking,” he said casually.

“About what?”

He shrugged, his smile widening. “About how I forgot how good your cooking smells. I think I’ve been spoiled by too many bland European hotel breakfasts.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a smirk. “Flattery won’t get you seconds,” she quipped, turning back to her work.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he shot back.

But as he watched her, his grin softened into something quieter. For months, he’d been living out of suitcases, rushing from one race to the next, surrounded by glamor and chaos. And yet, sitting here in her kitchen, with mismatched chairs and a wobbly table, he felt more at peace than he had in a long time.

Dinner was a simple affairâ€”pan-seared chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beansâ€”but it tasted like comfort. Jenson made a show of piling his plate high, earning a fond eye roll from Y/N.

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about everything and nothing, from his races to the latest town gossip. Y/N told him about how Mrs. Abernathy’s cat had gone missing for a week and turned up in the church rafters during Sunday service, and Jenson nearly choked on his water laughing at the mental image.

“I can’t believe you left that out of your texts,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here listening to an F1 driver laugh about Mrs. Abernathy’s cat,” she shot back, her eyes sparkling.

Jenson leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Hey, just because I drive fast cars doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate a good small-town scandal.”

Her smile softened, and for a moment, they just looked at each other. The quiet stretched between them, comfortable and warm, but heavy with something unsaid.

After dinner, Jenson insisted on helping with the dishes despite Y/N’s protests.

“You’re a guest,” she argued, snatching the dishrag from his hand.

“And you’re a terrible host for letting me sit here while you do all the work,” he shot back, grabbing it right back.

They ended up working side by side, water splashing onto their shirts as they bicker over who was better at drying. At one point, Jenson flicked a few droplets at her, and Y/N retaliated by smearing a soapy hand across his forearm.

“Truce!” he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Thought so,” she said smugly, though her cheeks were flushed, and her smile lingered.

Later that evening, they found themselves on the porch, a blanket draped over their laps as they sipped sweet tea and listened to the cicadas.

Jenson tilted his head back, looking up at the stars. “You can’t see this in London,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Too much light pollution?”

He nodded. “Too much of everything, really.”

Y/N glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His profile was relaxed, his features soft in the dim porch light. He looked far removed from the fast-paced world he usually inhabited.

“You ever think about slowing down?” she asked, her voice tentative.

He turned to her, his brow furrowing slightly. “Slowing down?”

“You knowâ€¦ finding somewhere quieter. Somewhere like this.” She gestured vaguely to the dark expanse of trees and open sky.

Jenson was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he smiled faintly. “I think about it sometimes. But I don’t know if I’m ready to leave it all behind yet. Racing’s been my whole life for so longâ€¦ it’s hard to imagine anything else.”

Y/N nodded, her chest tightening at his words. She wasn’t surprisedâ€”it wasn’t like she’d expected him to suddenly declare he was done with F1. But still, the thought of him leaving again, of this fragile little bubble they’d built bursting, made her stomach twist.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like being here, though,” he added, his voice softer now. “With you.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away quickly, her fingers tightening around her glass. “You better,” she said lightly, forcing a teasing tone. “You’ve got a bed and a home-cooked meal, after all.”

Jenson chuckled, but he didn’t press the moment. Instead, they sat in silence, the night stretching around them, their unspoken feelings hanging in the air like the stars above.

It started as a small moment, barely noticeable at first.

Jenson was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone as Y/N fussed in the kitchen. He had just returned from a jog, and his hair was damp, sticking to his forehead. A faint sheen of sweat clung to his skin, and he was still catching his breath.

“Do you want sweet tea or water?” she called from the kitchen, her voice distracted.

“Water’s fine,” he replied, not looking up.

A minute later, she appeared in the doorway, a glass in each hand. “Here,” she said, holding out the water, but her brow furrowed when she took in his flushed face.

“Jenson, you look like you’ve been running in a sauna. Did you even bring water with you?”

He smirked, leaning back against the couch. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, setting the glasses down on the coffee table. Then she grabbed a small hand towel off the counter and tossed it to him.

“Wipe your face before you sweat all over my couch,” she said, but her tone was soft, bordering on affectionate.

Jenson caught the towel with one hand, grinning as he dabbed at his forehead. “You’re a tough crowd, you know that?”

“Someone has to keep you in line,” she retorted, crossing her arms.

That was when it hit him.

He didn’t know if it was the way her lips quirked into a small, teasing smile, or the way she tilted her head, her hair falling over one shoulder. Maybe it was the warmth in her voice, the way it always softened just for him, no matter how much she pretended to be exasperated.

Jenson stared at her for a moment, something tightening in his chest. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed how beautiful she wasâ€”not in the conventional, polished way he was used to seeing in the F1 paddock, but in a way that was uniquely hers. Her curves, her freckles, the way she moved through life with an easy confidence that didn’t try to impress anyone.

She wasn’t trying to impress him, either. She never had. And that made her all the more magnetic.

“You’re staring,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

He blinked, jolting out of his thoughts. “Am I?”

“Yes, and it’s creepy,” she said, but her cheeks flushed, and she turned away quickly.

Jenson chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Justâ€¦ got lost in my thoughts.”

“Maybe get lost in them somewhere else,” she muttered, busying herself with the dish towel hanging off the oven handle.

But as she turned back toward the kitchen, Jenson’s smile faded, replaced by a quieter, more serious expression.

Oh no, he thought, leaning back against the couch.

It was a fleeting realization, but it hit him like a bolt of lightning.

He liked her.

Noâ€”not liked her. He cared about her. Deeply.

The thought sent a jolt of panic through him, and he leaned forward, running a hand through his hair. He’d spent years carefully compartmentalizing his life, keeping emotions at arm’s length to stay focused on racing. But thisâ€¦ this was different. She was different.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Y/N was trying very hard not to think about the way Jenson had been looking at her.

She scrubbed at the counter, even though it was already clean, her mind racing. There had been something in his gaze, something that made her feelâ€¦ seen.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the reflection of the microwave and frowned. She wasn’t the kind of woman who turned heads, especially not for someone like him. Jenson Button was out of her league in every possible wayâ€”internationally famous, absurdly good-looking, and charming enough to make a stone blush.

And yet, sometimes, he looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

She shook her head, scolding herself silently. She couldn’t afford to read into things that weren’t there. Jenson was kind, sure, and maybe he enjoyed her company. But that didn’t mean he saw her the way she sometimes caught herself seeing him.

Still, as she placed the glasses in the sink, she couldn’t stop the small flicker of warmth that lingered in her chest.

Jenson lay awake that night, staring at the ceiling in the guest room. His thoughts were a tangled mess, looping back to Y/N no matter how hard he tried to focus on something else.

He hadn’t planned for this. He never planned for anything outside of racing. His world was fast cars, constant travel, and shallow connections that didn’t ask for too much of him.

But Y/N wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met.

She was steady, grounded in a way that made him feel like he could slow down without losing himself. And that scared him.

He turned onto his side, running a hand through his hair. “Get a grip, Button,” he muttered to himself, but the words felt hollow.

Because no matter how hard he tried to push it down, he couldn’t ignore the truth anymore. He wasn’t just fond of her. He wasn’t just enjoying the time they spent together. He was starting to feel something deeperâ€”something that terrified him almost as much as it thrilled him.

In the kitchen, Y/N leaned against the counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. She stared out the window at the dark yard, the faint reflection of herself staring back at her.

Jenson had been actingâ€¦ strange. Or maybe she was imagining it.

She thought about the way he’d been looking at her earlier, the quiet intensity in his gaze that had made her heart race. But noâ€”she was reading too much into it. She always did this, always let her imagination run away with her.

He was Jenson Button, for crying out loud. Handsome, charming, and so far out of her league it was laughable. She was just a small-town girl with a soft middle and a life that wasn’t half as exciting as his.

“Get it together,” she murmured to herself, taking a sip of tea.

Still, she couldn’t shake the thought of his smile, the way his voice softened when he talked to her, or how he’d spent hours fixing her porch railing last week without being asked.

Her chest ached at the thought. She wanted to believe there was something there, something real. But she was terrified of letting herself hope, only to have it all come crashing down.

The next morning, Jenson was up early, standing on the porch with a cup of coffee in hand. The sun was just starting to rise, casting the yard in shades of gold and pink.

Y/N stepped outside, pulling her cardigan tight around her shoulders. She paused when she saw him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Morning,” she said softly.

“Morning,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re up early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, leaning against the porch railing.

Jenson nodded, his gaze drifting back to the horizon. “Me neither.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the air cool and still around them.

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes tracing the line of his profile. He looked thoughtful, almost vulnerable in the early morning light.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked quietly.

Jenson hesitated, his fingers tightening around his mug. “Justâ€¦ thinking about how nice it is here,” he said finally.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That’s vague.”

He chuckled, a soft, almost nervous sound. “Maybe it’s because I don’t have to rush off somewhere for once. Feelsâ€¦ different.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. He turned to look at her, his blue eyes catching hers. “Really good.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed under his gaze, and she looked away quickly. “Well, don’t get too used to it. Small-town life isn’t for everyone.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But I think some parts of it suit me.”

She glanced at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the way he was looking at her. For a moment, it felt like he was about to say something else, something important.

But then the moment passed, and Jenson took a sip of his coffee, turning his gaze back to the horizon.

The days that followed were full of small moments that seemed to hum with unspoken words. Every interaction between Jenson and Y/N felt charged, as if they were both walking a tightrope and too afraid to look down.

It started one afternoon when Y/N needed to pick up some supplies from the hardware store.

“You’re coming with me,” she declared, handing Jenson the keys to her beat-up pickup truck.

“Am I driving?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I want to see if you’re as good on four wheels without the sponsorships.”

Jenson smirked, sliding into the driver’s seat. “You might regret this, you know.”

The ride started off lighthearted, with her teasing him about his overly cautious turns and him joking about the truck’s distinct lack of horsepower. But as they drove along the backroads, the conversation quieted, replaced by a comfortable, almost intimate silence.

Y/N rested her elbow on the open window, the breeze tugging at her hair. Jenson glanced at her, taking in the way the sunlight caught the soft curves of her face, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“You look happy,” he said suddenly.

She turned to him, surprised. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I don’t know. You justâ€¦ seem at ease out here.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat, and she looked away, focusing on the road ahead. “Guess I like the simple things,” she said softly.

Jenson nodded, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Me too,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Later that evening, they were in the kitchen again, preparing dinner together. It had become a routine of sortsâ€”Jenson insisting on helping, even if it meant burning himself on the stove or mismeasuring spices.

“Careful with that,” Y/N said as he reached for a hot pan.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, but the moment he touched it, he yelped, pulling his hand back.

Y/N grabbed his wrist instinctively, tugging him toward the sink. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered, running cool water over his hand.

Jenson winced but didn’t pull away. “And yet, you keep me around.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t respond, focusing on his hand instead. Her fingers were gentle as they brushed against his, and the warmth of her touch sent a jolt through him.

He looked down at her, his chest tightening at the sight of her so close, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly.

She glanced up at him, her lips parting as if she was about to say something. But then she froze, her gaze flickering to his, and the air between them shifted.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Her hand was still cradling his, and he could feel the faint tremor in her fingers.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

But she stepped back quickly, releasing his hand as if it had burned her. “You’re fine,” she said, her tone brisk. “Just be more careful next time.”

Jenson swallowed hard, his heart pounding. “Right,” he said, forcing a smile. “More careful.”

That night, Jenson couldn’t sleep again. He found himself wandering onto the porch, his thoughts racing. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this upâ€”skirting around his, pretending she didn’t affect him the way she did.

He was leaning against the railing when Y/N stepped outside, her cardigan wrapped tightly around her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, her voice soft.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing at her. “You either?”

She shook her head, joining him by the railing. “Too much on my mind.”

They stood in silence for a while, the night air cool and crisp around them.

“Can I ask you something?” Jenson said finally, his voice hesitant.

“Sure,” she said, turning to look at him.

“Why’d you let me stay here? When my car broke down?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Because you needed help,” she said simply. “Andâ€¦ I don’t know. You seemed nice.”

Jenson chuckled softly. “Nice, huh? Don’t hear that one often.”

“Well, don’t let it go to your head,” she teased, but her smile faltered as she caught the serious look in his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said quietly, leaning against the railing. “Iâ€¦ I don’t think I’ve ever felt as at home anywhere as I do here.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. “Jenson, you don’t have toâ€””

“I mean it,” he interrupted. “You’ve got this way of making people feelâ€¦ like they matter. Like they’re enough.”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, her grip tightening on the railing. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” she said softly.

“I do mean it,” he said, his voice firm.

She shook her head, her throat tightening. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll leave, andâ€””

“And what?” he asked, stepping closer. “And it won’t matter? Because it does, Y/N. It matters.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

The tension hung heavy between them, the weight of their unspoken feelings pressing down like a storm about to break.

The words Jenson had spoken lingered long after the conversation ended. Y/N felt them settling into her chest like a weight she didn’t know how to carry. She avoided him the next day, busying herself with errands and tasks that didn’t need doing, her heart racing every time she thought about the way he’d looked at her.

Jenson noticed her retreat immediately. She wasn’t as chatty over breakfast and didn’t tease him about forgetting to add sugar to his coffee. He’d catch her looking at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, but the moment their eyes met, she’d turn away, busying herself with something trivial.

He gave her space, though it gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure what he’d said to spook her, but he knew her well enough now to recognize the walls going up.

That evening, Jenson found her in the garden, kneeling in the dirt as she pulled at weeds with a stubborn determination. The golden light of sunset framed her in a soft glow, and for a moment, he just stood there, watching her.

“Need any help?” he asked finally, his voice breaking the silence.

She looked up, startled, and then shook her head. “No, I’ve got it.”

He crouched down beside her anyway, picking at a stubborn root. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he said casually.

Y/N froze for a moment, her fingers pausing in the dirt before she resumed her task. “No, I haven’t.”

“You have,” he said, his tone light but his gaze steady. “Did I say something wrong?”

She sighed, sitting back on her heels and wiping her hands on her jeans. “It’s not you, Jenson. I justâ€¦ I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” he asked gently.

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “You’ll leave soon,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “And everything will go back to normal.”

Jenson frowned, his chest tightening at her words. “Is that what you want? For things to go back to normal?”

Y/N didn’t answer, her eyes fixed on the dirt. “Doesn’t matter what I want,” she said softly. “That’s how it is.”

A few days later, a storm rolled in, heavy rain pounding against the roof and windows. The power flickered out just after dinner, leaving the house dimly lit by candles and the occasional flash of lightning.

Jenson found Y/N in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was staring out the window, her expression distant.

“Mind some company?” he asked, holding up two mugs of tea.

She glanced at him, her lips curving into a small smile. “Sure.”

He sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders brushed. The warmth of him seeped through the blanket, and Y/N felt her pulse quicken.

“Storms like this always remind me of home,” he said after a while, his voice soft.

“Really?”

He nodded. “We don’t get them as often in England, but when we do, they’reâ€¦ peaceful, in a way. Everything slows down.”

Y/N hummed in agreement, her gaze still fixed on the rain. “I like them too. Makes me feel cozy.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the storm filling the space between them.

After a while, Jenson turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Do you ever think about leaving this place?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Not really,” she admitted. “It’s home. It’sâ€¦ safe.”

“But doesn’t it feel small sometimes?” he pressed gently.

“Not small,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “Justâ€¦ enough. For me, at least.”

Jenson leaned back against the couch, his eyes scanning her face in the soft, flickering candlelight. “You deserve more than enough, Y/N,” he said quietly.

Her brow furrowed, and she turned to look at him, confusion flickering in her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you shouldn’t settle,” he said, his voice steady but low. “You’re smart, kind, and you’ve got this way of making everything around you feelâ€¦ brighter. You could do anything, be anywhere. Why stay in one place?”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering. “But I think you’re brave enough to figure it out if you wanted to.”

Her smile faded slightly, and she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “Not everyone wants the same things, Jenson. I’m happy here.”

Jenson opened his mouth to argue, to tell her that happiness didn’t have to mean staying still, but something in her tone stopped him. Instead, he sighed, nodding. “If you’re happy, that’s what matters,” he said, though the words felt heavy on his tongue.

They sat in silence after that, the storm continuing to rage outside. But the quiet between them wasn’t peaceful anymoreâ€”it was thick with the tension of things unsaid, the unspoken questions hovering just out of reach.

Later that night, Jenson found himself unable to sleep again. The storm had passed, leaving the house eerily quiet. He wandered into the kitchen, expecting to find solitude, but instead, he saw Y/N sitting at the table, a cup of tea cradled in her hands.

“You too, huh?” he said softly, stepping inside.

She looked up, startled, and then smiled faintly. “Guess we’ve got the same curse.”

He poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, watching her. The candle she’d lit on the table cast a soft glow, illuminating the thoughtful expression on her face.

“You seemedâ€¦ upset earlier,” he said after a moment.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the mug. “I wasn’t upset,” she said carefully. “Justâ€¦ thinking.”

“About what?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting his. “About what happens when you leave,” she admitted. “And howâ€¦ empty it’s going to feel around here.”

Jenson’s heart clenched at her words. He wanted to tell her he felt the same, that the thought of leaving made his chest ache in a way he didn’t quite understand. But he couldn’t bring himself to say itâ€”not yet.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be,” he said instead, his voice quiet.

Y/N frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we don’t have to justâ€¦ disappear from each other’s lives,” he said, his gaze steady. “We can stay in touch. Call, writeâ€”whatever you want.”

She smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s not the same, Jenson.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, taking a step closer. “But I don’t want to lose this. Whatever this is.”

Y/N looked at him, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, she thought about reaching out, about bridging the gap between them and admitting that she felt it tooâ€”this pull, this connection she couldn’t quite explain.

But instead, she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s late. We should both get some sleep.”

Jenson nodded slowly, though his heart ached as he watched her stand and disappear down the hall.

Neither of them said it, but they both knew: the growing tension between them was becoming impossible to ignore. And sooner or later, something would have to give.

The morning after their late-night conversation, Y/N moved through the house as though nothing had happened. She greeted Jenson with her usual smile, poured him a cup of coffee, and busied herself with her day. But there was a new carefulness to her movements, as if she was trying to tiptoe around the growing weight between them.

Jenson, however, couldn’t stop watching her. Every glance lingered longer than it should have. He started noticing all the little things about her he hadn’t beforeâ€”how her laughter was soft but always genuine, how she hummed while doing dishes, or how she twirled the ends of her hair when lost in thought.

It hit him all at once that he was in trouble.

He’d told himself he was only passing through, that this was just a temporary reprieve from the chaos of his life. But Y/N had snuck up on him, wrapping herself around his thoughts and making it harder to imagine leaving than he cared to admit.

A few days later, Y/N suggested they visit the local Sunday market. “You can’t leave without at least seeing it once,” she said as they pulled into the gravel parking lot.

The market was a lively sprawl of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to handmade crafts. Y/N weaved through the crowd like she’d been doing it her whole life, and Jenson followed close behind, his gaze drawn more to her than to the stalls around them.

At one point, she stopped at a booth selling jars of homemade jam, chatting easily with the older woman behind the table. Jenson stood a step back, hands in his pockets, watching the way Y/N’s smile lit up her whole face.

“You’ve got yourself a good one there,” the vendor said, nodding toward Jenson with a knowing smile.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, we’re notâ€””

“Not yet,” Jenson cut in smoothly, stepping forward.

Y/N turned to him, her wide eyes narrowing in a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Don’t start.”

He grinned at her, his tone teasing. “I’m just saying, the lady has a point.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her heart stuttered at the way he looked at herâ€”like she was the only person in the world who mattered.

That evening, after the market, they sat on the porch watching the sun dip below the horizon. Jenson leaned back in the creaky rocking chair, a glass of sweet tea in his hand, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the porch swing.

“Today was fun,” he said, breaking the silence.

She smiled. “I’m glad you liked it. You didn’t have to come along, you know.”

“I wanted to,” he said, his voice soft.

Y/N glanced at him, her smile fading slightly as their eyes met. There was something in his gazeâ€”something warm and steady that made her heart skip.

“Jensonâ€¦” she started, but her words faltered.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What is it?”

She hesitated, her fingers curling around the edge of the swing. “You’reâ€¦ different than I expected,” she said finally.

“Good or bad?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.

“Good,” she said quickly. “It’s justâ€¦ I didn’t think someone like you wouldâ€¦ fit here.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “And yet, here I am.”

Y/N’s breath caught as his words hung in the air. For a moment, it felt like the world had gone quiet, the only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

But just as quickly, she looked away, standing abruptly. “It’s getting late. I should head in.”

Jenson watched her retreat, his chest tightening. He didn’t stop her, though every part of him wanted to.

The tension between them was growing unbearable, but neither of them was ready to take the first stepâ€”not yet.

The tension from that night lingered, casting a shadow over their days. Y/N kept herself busyâ€”working on her garden, running errands, reorganizing the kitchen cabinetsâ€”anything to avoid sitting still long enough to dwell on the way Jenson had looked at her.

Jenson, on the other hand, was quieter than usual. He still cracked jokes, still offered to help with chores, but there was a thoughtfulness to him now, a weight behind his smiles. Every so often, Y/N would catch him watching her, and her stomach would do a nervous flip.

One evening, Jenson found her in the backyard, sitting on the porch steps and staring out at the darkening sky. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped outside, letting the screen door creak behind him.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked softly.

She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not at all.”

He sat beside her, their shoulders brushing. For a while, they didn’t say anything, just watching as the first stars began to appear.

“You’ve been distant,” he said finally, his tone gentle.

Y/N sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “I don’t mean to be.”

“Is it because of me?”

She turned to him, startled by the vulnerability in his voice. “No, it’s not you, Jenson. I justâ€¦ I’m trying to figure some things out.”

“Like what?”

She hesitated, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

Y/N looked at him, her chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. For a moment, she thought about telling himâ€”about admitting how hard it was to keep pretending that she didn’t care about him more than she should.

But instead, she looked away, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s justâ€¦ hard, knowing you’ll leave soon.”

Jenson felt his heart twist at her words. He’d been thinking about it tooâ€”about how his time here was running out and how the thought of leaving her behind felt more unbearable with each passing day.

But he didn’t know how to tell her that. Didn’t know how to admit that somewhere along the way, he’d stopped thinking of this as a temporary stop and started thinking of it as home.

Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing hers lightly. “I don’t want to make this harder for you,” he said quietly.

“You’re not,” she said quickly, her voice thick with emotion.

But the look in her eyes said otherwise.

That night, as Y/N lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she couldn’t stop replaying the conversation in her head. She thought about the way Jenson had looked at her, the way his voice had softened when he said he didn’t want to make things harder.

It was at that moment that she realized the truth: she cared about him. More than she should. More than she’d ever wanted to.

But what scared her most wasn’t her feelingsâ€”it was the thought of what would happen when he left.

Because she knew that no matter how much she cared about him, she wasn’t sure she could survive another heartbreak.

In his own room, Jenson stared out the window, his mind racing. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Y/N had looked at him on the porchâ€”like she was holding something back, something she was afraid to say.

He’d told himself he wasn’t going to fall for her. He’d promised himself that this was just a temporary escape, nothing more.

But as he sat there, the truth finally hit him: he was already too far gone.

And now, he didn’t know how to tell her without risking everything they’d built.

The clock on the nightstand glowed with faint light, reading just past 2:00 AM. Y/N had been tossing and turning for hours, her thoughts chasing themselves in endless circles. She stared at the ceiling, willing herself to sleep, but her mind refused to cooperate.

She was startled by the soft sound of a knock on her door. Sitting up, she hesitated, her heart racing. “Come in,” she said quietly, her voice carrying across the still room.

The door creaked open, revealing Jenson. He was barefoot, dressed in a rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair tousled like he’d been trying to sleep but had given up. He leaned against the doorframe, looking sheepish.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Y/N blinked, her heart skipping at the sight of him. “You too?”

He nodded, stepping inside. “Yeah. Kept thinking aboutâ€¦ things.”

She scooted over, patting the empty space on her bed before she could second-guess herself. “You can stay here. If you want.”

Jenson hesitated for a moment, searching her face for any sign of reluctance, but all he found was quiet warmth. With a small smile, he crossed the room and slipped under the blanket beside her.

They lay side by side, neither saying a word at first. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, and the space between them felt like it was charged with unspoken words.

Y/N turned her head slightly, glancing at him in the dim light. “What’s keeping you up?” she asked softly.

Jenson hesitated, staring up at the ceiling. “You,” he finally admitted.

Her breath hitched, and she froze. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, turning his head to meet her gaze. “You’ve been on my mind, Y/N. A lot. More than I know how to deal with.”

Her heart raced, and she looked away, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re leaving soon, Jenson. You shouldn’t be thinking about me like that.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “But I can’t help it.”

The silence that followed was thick with tension, and Y/N didn’t know how to respond. Instead, she shifted closer, resting her head on the pillow just inches from his.

“You’re too good at saying things that make me feel vulnerable,” she said finally, her tone light but her words heavy with meaning.

Jenson chuckled softly, his smile faint. “Only because you do the same to me.”

She shook her head, her lips curving into a small smile. “We’re a mess, aren’t we?”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I’d rather be a mess with you than have it all together with someone else.”

Her breath caught, and she stared at him, her chest tightening at the vulnerability in his eyes. She wanted to reach out, to touch him, to tell him that she felt the same.

Instead, she whispered, “Goodnight, Jenson.”

He smiled, his voice low as he replied, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

As the night stretched on, they stayed close, their breathing eventually evening out. Neither of them slept much, though, their hearts too full and their thoughts too tangled to find rest.

The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/N stirred first, blinking awake, her head still resting on the pillow beside Jenson. For a moment, she simply lay there, trying to steady her breath, and letting the warmth of the moment soak in.

Jenson’s presence next to her felt both comforting and confusing, like she couldn’t decide whether it was something that should feel natural or something that had crossed a line. She was painfully aware of the way his body was close to hersâ€”how his warmth seemed to draw her in, as if they were tethered by something unspoken.

As she shifted slightly, trying to not wake him, she noticed he was already awake, his blue eyes quietly watching her. His gaze was softer than usual, unguarded, and it made her stomach flip in ways she wasn’t sure how to handle.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice rough from sleep.

He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a way that made her heart skip. “Morning, love,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection that felt both unfamiliar and incredibly familiar at the same time.

Y/N sat up, immediately regretting the distance she’d put between them. She ran a hand through her messy hair, trying to act casual, but the air felt thick with everything they hadn’t yet said.

“Sleep well?” she asked, trying to break the tension but feeling like she was only adding to it.

Jenson stretched, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. “I did,” he replied, voice quiet. “It was nice. Having someone here.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she felt that same ache she’d been trying to ignore. She quickly averted her gaze, clearing her throat. “Yeah. I didn’t sleep muchâ€¦ but it’s okay.”

He glanced at her, noticing the way her hands fidgeted in her lap. “You sure about that?”

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes meeting him for the briefest of moments before looking away again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Justâ€¦ thinking.”

Jenson raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in her tone, the way she seemed to retreat into herself whenever the conversation ventured into deeper territory. “Thinking about what?” he asked softly.

She hesitated, unsure of how to explain it without it sounding like she was overthinkingâ€”like she was pushing him away before he could do it to her.

“Aboutâ€¦ us,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely audible.

The words hung in the air between them, and Jenson’s breath caught. He wanted to reach out to her, wanted to pull her back from the wall she was building around herself. But he stayed still, waiting for her to speak again.

“I think,” Y/N began, her voice wavering slightly, “I think we’re both pretending that this doesn’t mean anything.”

The vulnerability in her voice hit him like a wave, and without thinking, Jenson leaned toward her. “It means something to me, Y/N. More than I know how to say.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and she looked at him then, her gaze intense and searching. “I don’t want to get hurt,” she whispered, the words spilling out before she could stop them.

Jenson’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to promise her that it wouldn’t happen, that he wouldn’t hurt her, but those kinds of promises were harder to make than he ever imagined.

Instead, he simply reached out, his hand resting gently on hers. “I won’t hurt you, Y/N. I swear.”

Her eyes softened at the sincerity in his voice, and for a moment, it felt like the distance between them vanished. It was just the two of them in that quiet room, no walls, no fearsâ€”just the weight of unspoken feelings they both tried so hard to ignore.

But as the moment lingered, she pulled her hand away gently, the vulnerability in her eyes replaced by that familiar wall she built to protect herself. “I need to get ready,” she said, her tone suddenly distant again.

Jenson nodded, a sense of longing sweeping through him as he watched her stand. He didn’t want to push her, but he couldn’t help the way he wanted moreâ€”more of this closeness, more of her trust.

“Okay,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with words unsaid.

As she left the room to get dressed, Jenson lay back, staring at the ceiling, and for the first time in a long time, he felt unsure about what to do next.

The day unfolded with a quiet tension that neither of them acknowledged, but it lingered in the way they moved around each other. They kept busy with small tasks, the kind of mundane things that allowed them to avoid talking about the emotions that seemed to hang between them like an unspoken truth.

Y/N tried to distract herself by cleaning the kitchen, her hands moving mechanically as she wiped down counters and put away dishes. Jenson, on the other hand, was working on his laptop in the living room, but his focus seemed to shift between the screen and her. Every time she moved, every time she let out a small sigh, his gaze would wander to her, studying her with a mix of longing and uncertainty.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. The need to break the silence between them was overwhelming, and he stood up from the couch, moving toward the kitchen where she stood, her back turned as she stacked plates.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his voice hesitant.

She froze for a moment before turning around slowly, her eyes meeting his with a guarded expression. “What is it?”

Jenson stepped closer, hands shoved in his pockets as he regarded her carefully. “I can’t just keep pretending like nothing’s going on between us.”

Y/N swallowed, the ache in her chest intensifying. “Jenson, Iâ€””

He interrupted her gently, his voice low but firm. “No. I need to say this. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I can’t keep ignoring it.”

A silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, before Y/N finally spoke, her voice small. “What do you want me to say? I don’t know what this is, Jenson. I don’t know how toâ€¦ how to make it work.”

The uncertainty in her eyes was like a punch to his gut, and he wanted to reach out, to pull her closer and promise that they could figure it out. But he didn’t want to pressure her, didn’t want to force something that might break them apart before they even tried.

He stepped even closer, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing hers. “I just want you to know that I’m here, Y/N. I don’t know what this means, but I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

Her chest tightened, and she glanced down at their hands, the warmth of his touch seeping into her. “You’re leaving soon,” she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion.

“I know,” he said softly. “But I’m not asking you to make any promises. Justâ€¦ don’t shut me out.”

She met his gaze, her walls slowly beginning to crumble under the sincerity in his eyes. “I’m scared, Jenson.”

“I know,” he said, his voice low and comforting. “I’m scared too.”

For a moment, they simply stood there, their hands brushing, their hearts beating faster than they could control. And in that moment, everything else seemed to fade awayâ€”the uncertainty, the fear, the walls they’d built.

Finally, Y/N exhaled, a shaky breath escaping her lips as she took a small step closer to him. “I don’t know how to do thisâ€¦ but I want to try. Justâ€¦ don’t break my heart, okay?”

Jenson’s heart skipped, and without thinking, he pulled her into a gentle embrace. “I won’t. I promise.”

And as they stood there in the quiet kitchen, the weight of unspoken feelings between them seemed to lift, even if just for a moment. Neither of them had the answers, but they both knew one thing: they were willing to take the next stepâ€”together.

The next few days passed in a haze of shared momentsâ€”quiet mornings over coffee, brief smiles across rooms, and a tension that neither one of them was willing to address fully, but both of them felt. Jenson and Y/N had reached a silent agreement that they would take things slow, not rushing into anything, but not letting the opportunity slip by either.

They hadn’t kissed yetâ€”not that either of them hadn’t thought about it a hundred timesâ€”but the thought of crossing that line felt like it would change everything between them. It would no longer be something soft and simple. No, a kiss would make it real.

And neither of them was quite ready for that.

One evening, they found themselves sitting on the porch as the sun set, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange. They hadn’t said much, simply enjoyed the peace of each other’s company. Y/N had leaned back against the old wooden railing, her legs pulled up beneath her, and Jenson sat beside her, his arm brushing against hers but not quite touching. The silence felt comfortable, for once.

Y/N glanced at him, her eyes soft as she watched the last bit of light fade over the horizon. “You leave in a few days,” she said, her voice a little softer than usual, like she was acknowledging something she didn’t quite want to face.

Jenson nodded, not looking at her, but the slight crease between his brows was enough to tell her that he was thinking the same thing. “Yeah. I guess I should get used to it.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself. “You don’t have to get used to it.”

His eyes met hers then, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, just sat there, the space between them charged with a thousand unspoken words. Finally, Jenson spoke, his voice steady but unsure. “I don’t want to leave things like this, Y/N. I don’t want to walk away fromâ€¦ whatever this is. Not without knowing we tried.”

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she found herself holding her breath. The honesty in his voice, the vulnerability, was something she didn’t know how to handle but was also drawn to more than she was willing to admit.

“I don’t know if I can do long-distance,” she said softly, her gaze dropping to the worn wood of the porch. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for it.”

Jenson reached over, his fingers grazing her hand lightly, and she stiffened at the contact, but he didn’t pull away. His hand lingered, just enough to reassure her that he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to try.”

She turned to him, her heart pounding. “You really want to try? Even with everything you know?”

Jenson’s lips quirked up into that familiar, almost unreadable smile. “You think I’d come this far without knowing what I’m getting into?”

Y/N shook her head with a small laugh, her heart in her throat. She didn’t know what to say, or if there was even anything that could be said. What could they do? What would happen when the distance between them was real? When their time together was a memory, and she was left trying to hold on to something she wasn’t sure was real?

But Jenson didn’t seem to care about the distance.

“I don’t have all the answers, Y/N,” he said after a long pause. “I can’t promise that this will be easy, or that we’ll always know what comes next. But I can promise that I’m willing to try. I want to try with you.”

Her breath caught again, and she found herself giving him a soft, hesitant smile. “I don’t know what that looks like,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “Butâ€¦ I’m willing to see where it goes.”

He smiled then, a real smile that reached his eyes, and Y/N felt her walls cracking just a little more. She let out a shaky breath, her hand reaching over to touch his, letting the warmth of his skin seep into hers.

“Me too,” she said, voice steady now. “I’m scared, Jenson. But I’ll try. I’ll try if you will.”

And for the first time in days, the tension between them shiftedâ€”subtle, but there. There was still uncertainty, still a lot of things they hadn’t said, hadn’t done. But for now, this was enough.

They didn’t need to have it all figured out. They just needed to try.

The following days were a whirlwind. They spent as much time together as they couldâ€”sometimes talking, sometimes just sharing the quiet moments they both seemed to crave. And when the day of his departure finally came, there was an unspoken agreement between them that they’d take the time they had left and make the most of it.

At the airport, as Jenson stood with his suitcase, ready to board, Y/N stood in front of him, her hands clasped together nervously. She had no words, no promises, no expectations. Just the raw emotion of everything they hadn’t yet said.

He smiled at her, stepping forward to pull her into a brief, yet lingering hug. “I’ll text you when I land,” he said softly, his voice low.

Y/N nodded, her heart racing. “I’ll be waiting.”

And with that, Jenson turned to leave, but not without glancing back over his shoulder once more. He caught her eye, a look of quiet certainty in his gaze, before he disappeared through the security gates.

Y/N stood there, watching him go, knowing that this wasn’t the end. It wasn’t even the beginning yet.

It was just the next step.

And for the first time, she was willing to take it.

The days after Jenson left were a blur of work and small, fleeting moments of quiet reflection. Y/N found herself in a familiar routineâ€”waking up early, going to work, taking care of things around the house. But there was an emptiness in the space where Jenson’s presence used to linger. The subtle weight of his absence hung heavy, but she didn’t let it consume her. Not yet.

Every evening, without fail, her phone would buzz with a message from him. It started with a simple “Hey, how’s your day?” and progressed to longer conversations as the days went by. They talked about everything: the weather, his travels, her work, and sometimes, the little things that made them smile.

But the real conversations, the ones that truly bridged the distance between them, happened late at night, when they shared their thoughts, fears, and frustrationsâ€”those moments when they felt like they were both on the same side of the world, despite the miles between them.

One evening, after a particularly long shift at work, Y/N found herself sitting on her couch, her phone clutched in her hands. She had been texting Jenson all day, and now, there was a new message waiting for her.

Jenson:

“I miss you. You have no idea how much.”

Y/N’s heart did a little flip, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she tried to gather her thoughts.

Y/N:

“I miss you too. It’s been weird here without you.”

There was a pause before Jenson replied, and when he did, his message felt heavier, more earnest.

Jenson:

“I don’t think I realized how much I’d get used to having you around.”

Her chest tightened at the words. She had been avoiding admitting how much she’d gotten used to him tooâ€”how his presence had become so much a part of her life that even the quiet felt different without him there.

Y/N:

“I thought I’d be fine, you know? I’ve done long-distance before, but with you, it’s different.”

She paused, biting her lip. It was true. This was different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but she knew it had something to do with how easily they’d fallen into each other’s lives. How natural it all felt.

There was another pause before Jenson’s reply came through.

Jenson:

“What do you think we’re doing, Y/N? Because I don’t want to play it safe anymore. I don’t want to keep this thing hanging in the balance. I want to know what we areâ€”if we’re something.”

Her heart skipped a beat. That was the question she’d been afraid to ask herself, the one she had danced around with every text, every conversation. What were they? What did this mean?

But the truth was, she already knew.

Y/N:

“I think we’re something, Jenson. I just need to figure out what that looks like.”

Jenson:

“Then let’s figure it out together.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she smiled softly at the screen, even though he wasn’t there to see it. Maybe they didn’t need all the answers yet. Maybe they didn’t need a plan right now. What mattered was that they were both willing to try.

As the conversation continued, Y/N found herself slowly allowing her heart to soften, to let the distance between them feel a little less vast. They were building somethingâ€”something realâ€”and that was enough for her, for now.

The next weekend, Y/N had a quiet Saturday planned. She was about to start making breakfast when her phone rang. The caller ID made her pauseâ€”Jenson Buttonâ€”and she immediately smiled, the warmth of his voice already filling the space between them.

“Hey,” she answered, keeping her tone casual, though her heart was racing. “How’s the UK?”

“Cold,” he said with a slight chuckle. “But I’m getting through it. Missing the sun though.”

Y/N laughed lightly. “I bet you are.”

There was a pause, a beat that stretched between them, as if neither of them were quite sure how to start this conversation, but they both knew it had to happen.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jenson said after a moment. “About us. About how this long-distance thing is going to work. And honestly, I think it’s going to be hard. But I don’t want us to just survive itâ€”I want us to thrive, even with the miles between us.”

Y/N felt her heart swell at his words. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she needed to hear thatâ€”to know that he wasn’t just going through the motions, but actually cared enough to make this work.

“I think it can work too,” she replied, her voice steady but warm. “It’s going to take time, butâ€¦ I’m willing to put in the effort. I want to see where this goes.”

“Then we’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out together.” His voice softened, a tenderness that made her feel like he was right there beside her. “No matter how many miles are between us.”

Her heart fluttered. “I think I’d like that.”

Over the next few weeks, their relationship continued to grow. The calls and messages didn’t stop, and they found themselves sharing more of their lives than they had when they were physically together. Y/N would send him pictures of the flowers blooming in her garden, and Jenson would send videos of his training sessions or his quiet moments in the UK.

There was a rhythm to it nowâ€”an unspoken understanding that, even though they were far apart, they were still a part of each other’s lives. Slowly, that distance felt less like a barrier and more like something they could overcome, one message at a time.

One night, as they both sat in their respective spaces, looking at the same moon from different corners of the world, Jenson sent a message that made Y/N’s heart flutter even more than before.

Jenson:

“I can’t wait to see you again. I’m counting down the days until I’m back in the States.”

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of her phone screen.

Y/N:

“Me too. I think about that a lot.”

Jenson:

“And when I get back, I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Her chest tightened at his words. This was real. Thisâ€”what they hadâ€”was something worth fighting for, worth waiting for.

And she realized, with a small, content smile on her face, that she wasn’t just waiting anymore. She was ready to see where this would take them.

It was a Tuesday evening when the news broke. Y/N was sitting on her couch, laptop open in front of her, doing a bit of work, when the notification popped up on her screen.

Jenson Button Announces Retirement from Formula 1

She blinked, her hand frozen mid-air as she processed the headline. Her heart skipped a beat. The news felt surreal. She clicked on the link, reading the article carefully, absorbing every word as it sank in. Jenson had made the decision to retire from Formula 1 after an illustrious career, and while the news wasn’t exactly shocking given the whispers that had been floating around, it still hit her like a punch to the gut.

Before she could really process it, her phone buzzed. It was from Jenson.

Jenson:

“You saw the news, huh?”

Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, the weight of his decision hanging heavily in the air between them. She took a deep breath before typing out her reply.

Y/N:

“Yeah, I just saw. Are you okay?”

There was a long pause before his response came through. The little dots on her screen blinked in anticipation, but it wasn’t like him to take so long to reply.

Jenson:

“I’mâ€¦ fine. It’s been coming for a while, but it still feels strange to say it out loud. To really know it’s over.”

Y/N’s heart went out to him. She knew this wasn’t just a career choice for himâ€”it was a part of who he was. The thought of him stepping away from something that had shaped his entire life made her feel a mix of sadness and empathy. But more than that, she knew he had to be feeling conflicted, and she hated that he was carrying this weight alone, even if they were hundreds of miles apart.

Y/N:

“I can’t imagine how it must feel. But I’m proud of you for making this decision, Jenson.”

She waited for his response, hoping it would help him feel a little less alone.

Jenson:

“Thanks. It means a lot, more than you know. I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s next. About how I’ll adjust, you know?”

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could feel the weight of his words, the uncertainty in them.

Y/N:

“You’ve always known what’s next, Jenson. But this time, it’s about finding a new path. And I’m sure you’ll find it.”

There was another pause, and when he replied, it was more vulnerable than she’d ever seen him be.

Jenson:

“I hope so. But I can’t lieâ€¦ it’s scary. It’s hard to let go of something that’s been such a big part of who I am.”

Y/N exhaled deeply, setting her laptop aside. She grabbed her phone and dialed his number without hesitation. It only rang twice before he picked up, his voice low and tired.

“Hey,” he said, sounding like he’d been waiting for her call.

“Hey, Jenson,” she replied softly. “I know this is a big deal. You’ve been part of F1 for so long, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now. Butâ€¦ I just want you to know, I’m here. You’re not alone in this.”

Jenson’s voice was quiet on the other end, the usual cocky confidence gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. “I don’t want to lose that feeling, you know? The excitement of racing, the adrenaline, the focus. It’s all I’ve known.”

“I get that,” Y/N said, feeling a lump form in her throat. “But you’ll find a new kind of excitement. It’s just going to take time. You’ve always been driven, and you’ll find something else that makes you feel alive. I know you will.”

There was a long silence between them, and Y/N could almost feel the weight of his emotions as he processed her words.

“You really think that?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

“I do,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “And you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve got me, Jenson. And I’m not going anywhere.”

His breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Iâ€¦ I don’t deserve you, Y/N. I know I’ve said this before, but I really don’t.”

Y/N closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath before speaking. “You don’t have to deserve me, Jenson. You just have to be yourself.”

There was a long pause before Jenson finally spoke again, his voice quieter than before. “I’ve missed you more than I thought possible.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a vulnerability there she hadn’t expected, a rawness that made her chest tighten.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said softly. “So much.”

Over the next few days, Jenson’s retirement began to dominate the headlines. It was hard for Y/N to escape the constant media coverage. She could hear the discussions among her colleagues, the murmurs about Jenson’s decision and what it meant for his career, but every time someone brought it up, her mind went back to the conversation she’d had with him.

She wasn’t just supporting him as a fan anymore; she was supporting him as something more. And that meant a lot, both to her and to him.

Despite the emotional heaviness of it all, their connection only seemed to deepen. They spoke even more than usual, and each conversation felt more intimate, more real. She found herself sharing more of her own fears and dreams, feeling like she could be open with him in a way she hadn’t before.

He, too, seemed more willing to open up. He shared memories of his racing daysâ€”the highs, the lows, the moments of doubt and exhilaration. And with each shared story, Y/N felt closer to him. He wasn’t just Jenson Button, the Formula 1 driver. He was Jenson, the man who had become such a central part of her life.

They didn’t have all the answers. They still didn’t know what the future held. But for the first time in a long time, Y/N felt like they were moving forward together, even if the road ahead was uncertain.

The uncertainty didn’t scare her anymore. Not when she knew they had each other.

After Jenson’s announcement, everything seemed to shift. They spoke daily, not just in the evening like before, but throughout the dayâ€”texts, voice messages, and long calls that stretched late into the night. There was something more between them now, a closeness that wasn’t just built on shared moments or chemistry, but on understanding.

Jenson had a lot to work through after his retirement. There was uncertainty in his voice sometimes, but it was clear that his life was about to change in ways he hadn’t prepared for. But Y/N was there, offering him more than just words of comfortâ€”she was there to listen, to share in his anxiety, and to help him process it all.

One evening, after another long call, Jenson said something that had been lingering in the back of his mind for a while.

“I don’t want to go back to the UK just yet,” he admitted, sounding like he was finally letting go of something. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I justâ€¦ don’t want to be alone with all of this. I don’t want to face it all without you.”

The vulnerability in his voice made Y/N’s heart race. She couldn’t deny that a part of her had been hoping for this, hoping for him to need her as much as she needed him. And yet, hearing it out loud made her feel both nervous and relieved at the same time.

“I can’t leave you hanging, not after everything we’ve shared,” Jenson continued. “I’ve spent too much time on the other side of the world, and now that I’m not racing, I don’t want to miss out onâ€¦ us.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She’d known that things had been changing between them, but hearing him say it so openly left her reeling. She hadn’t been ready for thisâ€”didn’t know how to process it all. But in the same breath, she felt something warm spread through her chest. There was a spark between them that hadn’t been there before.

“Iâ€¦ I’m not going anywhere either,” she managed to say, her words filled with a mix of confidence and fear. “I just want you to be happy, Jenson. That’s all I want.”

His voice softened. “You make me happy, Y/N. I thinkâ€¦ I think you’ve been the one thing that’s made sense in all this chaos.”

Y/N couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. There was no more denying itâ€”this wasn’t just friendship. They were building something deeper, something that neither of them had expected but both were starting to embrace.

A couple of weeks later, Jenson did something that had Y/N’s heart racing once againâ€”he booked a flight to visit her. He’d managed to clear some space in his schedule and, instead of heading back to the UK, he chose to come to North Carolina.

The days leading up to his arrival were filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness. It had been so long since they’d spent time together in person, and now, they were about to be in the same place again after everything that had happened.

When he arrived at her place, the moment their eyes met felt like the world had shifted. He looked the sameâ€”handsome, his familiar smile that made her heart raceâ€”but there was something different in the way he looked at her. He was no longer just the guy she admired from afar. He was the man who had shared his fears with her, who had made her feel seen and heard in ways no one else had.

They stood there, facing each other, unsure of how to bridge the distance that had grown between them, despite the fact that it felt like no time had passed at all.

“So,” Jenson started, his voice a little nervous. “This is different, huh?”

Y/N chuckled softly, her hands tucked into her pockets. “Yeah, it is. But it’s good.”

There was an awkwardness in the air, the kind that came from both excitement and a little uncertainty. It was the tension of two people who were finally giving in to something they’d both been avoiding for too long.

Jenson took a step closer to her, the space between them closing in a way that felt intentional, as if they were both moving in the same direction without fully acknowledging it.

When he reached her, his hand gently brushed against hers, a soft, tentative contact. She looked up at him, eyes meeting his, and in that moment, it all felt right.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispered.

“Me too,” Jenson replied, his voice low but filled with meaning.

Without saying another word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t passionate, but it was full of tendernessâ€”an unspoken promise that this, whatever this was, was real.

For a few moments, they stood like thatâ€”just the two of them in the quiet of the room, both of them holding on to something that was growing stronger by the minute.

They didn’t rush things. They didn’t need to. This was a new beginning, one they would take step by step, together.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, they both felt like they were on the same page, with no more doubts to hold them back.

Over the next few days, things between Y/N and Jenson unfolded slowly but steadily. There was an ease in their interactions that had been absent before, but also a deeper connection that they hadn’t fully acknowledged until now. The tension that had once been palpable was still there, but it felt like the space between them had narrowed, each touch, each glance, pulling them closer together.

Jenson was learning how to be present, really present, in a way he hadn’t been able to before. With racing behind him, he was now navigating the quieter moments of life, and Y/N was right beside him, offering him the kind of peace he hadn’t known he needed.

They spent mornings together, sitting at her kitchen table, sipping coffee, talking about everything and nothing all at once. It was casual, unassuming, and yet every conversation felt like a step closer to something more. Every shared laugh, every lingering touch, was a quiet testament to the bond they were building.

But even in the midst of all of this, neither one of them dared to vocalize what they were feeling. They didn’t need to, not yet. There was still time. And time, they realized, could be their ally.

One night, a week into Jenson’s visit, they decided to take a walk through the nearby park. The moon was full, casting a silvery light over the trail as they walked side by side, the only sound being their footsteps crunching against the fallen leaves.

There was something about the stillness of the night that made everything feel more intimate, more fragile. Jenson’s hand brushed against Y/N’s, and this time, neither of them pulled away. It was subtle, a quiet exchange, but it felt like the world had shifted again.

They stopped at a small wooden bench, sitting down next to each other. The air was crisp, and Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, drawing her jacket closer to her body. Jenson looked over at her, his gaze lingering, the words he’d been holding back finally finding their way to the surface.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said the other night,” Jenson began, his voice quieter than usual, as though choosing his words carefully. “About howâ€¦ you didn’t want to rush into things.”

Y/N glanced up at him, her breath catching slightly. She wasn’t sure where this was going, but she was almost afraid to interrupt the moment.

“I’m not rushing anything,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his. “I just want to make sureâ€¦ that this is real. That we’re both ready for whatever comes next.”

Jenson’s expression softened, his hand reaching out slowly to touch hers again. This time, the gesture wasn’t tentative. It was deliberate.

“I get that,” he said quietly. “And I thinkâ€¦ I think I’ve been scared, too. Not just about us, but about everything changing so quickly.”

Y/N nodded, feeling her heart swell with understanding. She had been scared, too. Scared of what might happen if they gave into this undeniable pull between them. Scared of the inevitable complications, the vulnerabilities that came with caring for someone so deeply.

“I think I’m ready, Jenson,” she said after a long pause, her voice steady but filled with the truth of everything she’d been holding inside. “I’m ready to see where this goes.”

Jenson’s heart gave a little leap at her words, and he squeezed her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. He could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation hanging between them like a spark waiting to ignite.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

And that was itâ€”the moment everything shifted. No more doubts, no more hesitation. Just the quiet certainty that whatever was coming next, they would face it together.

The next evening, after a quiet dinner at her apartment, Jenson found himself standing in front of her once again, this time with a different kind of look in his eyes. The playful teasing from before had been replaced with something deeper, more honest.

He took a slow step closer to her, his gaze never leaving hers. She could feel the pull between them, the magnetic force that had been building over the last few days. This time, there were no distractions, no worries about the future, just the two of them at this moment.

“You’re not scared anymore?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, but full of meaning.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head slowly, his smile soft and genuine. “I’m justâ€¦ grateful. That I’m here with you.”

And with that, he leaned in, brushing his lips softly against hers. It was a kiss that was gentle, tender, but full of everything they hadn’t said out loud yet. It was the beginning of something new, something neither of them could have predicted.

When they finally pulled away, both of them were left breathless, caught in the quiet aftermath. But the lingering feeling wasn’t uncertaintyâ€”it was peace. The kind of peace that came from knowing that despite everything, they were exactly where they needed to be.

As the days passed, their connection grew stronger, more natural. They spent the rest of his visit exploring, laughing, and just being together. And every time they looked at each other, it felt like the world outside their little bubble didn’t matter. There were only two of them, and that was enough for now.

No one knew what the future held, but they knew that, for once, it didn’t matter. They had each otherâ€”and that was a start.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #faiths inboxes📥📨#formula one x oc #formula one x y/n #jenson button #jenson button x reader #jenson button x you #jenson button fanfic #jenson button fluff #jenson button imagine #jenson button x plus size reader #f1 x plus size reader

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thef1diary · 1 day ago

Text

Royally Fucked | Five

— Unresolved Tensions

series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

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The night air was cool against Juliette’s skin as she and Daniel slipped out of the hotel’s back exit. The dimly lit alley allowed them to escape discreetly. His hand was a firm but gentle guide on her back, steering her toward the waiting car. He had coordinated every detail of their exit with precision, ensuring no eyes were on them.

Daniel opened the passenger door for her, his gaze scanning their surroundings with a practiced eye. The secondary security team had already cleared the area, and their vehicle was positioned out of sight from the main road. Juliette slid into the car, her heart still racing from the night’s events. The moment Daniel closed the door and circled to the driver’s side, she felt a slight but palpable shift in the air. The tension was thick, but it wasn’t directed solely at her.

As they securely pulled away from the hotel, his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles white under the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Daniel’s eyes darted frequently to the rearview mirror, checking for any signs of pursuit. Every turn, every streetlight passed was measured, as if he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind to ensure they remained unseen.

Despite a security team being prepared and stationed to assist, Daniel made the decision that only he and Juliette would go to a secondary location. The fewer people involved, the less chance of drawing unwanted attention. His decision was firm, rooted in the need to keep her as safe and inconspicuous as possible. Instead, the team would handle Vincent and secure the area, but the immediate priority was getting Juliette out without a trace.

Juliette sat in silence, her hands clasped in her lap. She could sense the frustration simmering beneath Daniel’s calm exterior. The quiet in the car was thick, punctuated only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional click of Daniel’s phone as he coordinated their next steps. He had always been attentive, quick with a joke or a reassuring word, but tonight, he was different—colder, more distant.

The silence between them grew heavier with each passing mile. She had slowly but surely started becoming accustomed to the sound of Daniel’s voice, to the comfort it brought in empty silences and tense situations. But now, the absence of his usual warmth was disconcerting.

Unable to bear it any longer, Juliette finally broke the silence. “Daniel…” she began, her voice tentative, almost unsure of itself. She glanced over at him, hoping for a response that would break the icy barrier that had formed between them.

His eyes remained fixed on the road, his expression unreadable. He didn’t respond, not even with a glance in her direction. The weight of his silence hung in the air, amplifying the tension.

Juliette tried again, her tone a little firmer this time, though still tinged with uncertainty. “I know I should’ve stayed in the room, but I… I just couldn’t sit still, not after what happened.”

Daniel’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, but he still said nothing, his focus on the road unwavering. His silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the steady flow of conversation they usually shared.

The silence from his end stung, feeling like a punishment and perhaps it was—one she would have to endure until he deemed it necessary to speak again. With him so withdrawn, she felt adrift, unsure of how to navigate the tension between them.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Daniel spoke. “Your Highness, leaving the room wasn’t the issue,” he said, his tone low yet firm. “You’re allowed to do anything you like. You’re the princess. But I wish you had told me, I wish you had let me accompany you.”

Juliette’s heart sank a little at his words, but she remained silent, letting him continue.

“Security isn’t just about what happens during an event,” Daniel went on, his voice tightening with the weight of his concern. “It’s everything before, during, and after. The threats don’t disappear once the event ends. If anything, that’s when they become more dangerous.” He glanced at her briefly before his eyes returned to the road.

He hesitated, his jaw working as if he was trying to find the right words. “You nearly got stabbed tonight,” Daniel said, his voice steady, his professional demeanor never faltering. But Juliette could see it—the flicker of raw worry in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely showed. It wasn’t the fear of failing in his duties as her bodyguard or being deemed unworthy of protecting a princess. It was something deeper, more personal. He was genuinely worried about her—as a friend.

Juliette felt a pang of guilt at that realization, understanding the weight of his concern. She hadn’t fully grasped the danger she’d been in until now, and the reality of it all hit her with a cold, sharp clarity.

Daniel exhaled slowly, his frustration evident, but it was clear that the anger wasn’t directed at her. “I’m supposed to protect you,” he said, his voice softening, though the tension remained. “But I can’t do that if I’m not there. All I’m asking for is your trust in my abilities.”

Juliette nodded slowly, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “I understand. I trust you,” she replied quietly. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I really am.”

Daniel didn’t respond immediately, but the stiffness in his posture seemed to ease, if only slightly. The silence between them was no longer as suffocating, but it was still heavy with the unresolved tension of the night’s events.

They continued down the darkened road, the safe house still a few hours away. Despite the emotional distance that had grown between them, Juliette knew that they would have to find a way to rebuild the trust that had been shaken tonight. For now, she would do her part by proving that she trusts him.

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It was well over midnight when Daniel pulled up to the safe house. The drive had been long and relatively quiet��except for a few small disagreements about the music—and the isolation of their destination only added to the somber mood. The house itself was tucked away in the woods, a fortified residence that exuded security and comfort in equal measure. As they stepped out of the car, Juliette took in the surroundings, the dense trees offering both protection and a sense of seclusion.

Daniel moved with practiced efficiency, his eyes scanning every corner of the property, ensuring that all security measures were in place. He entered the house and checked the locks, the windows, and the security monitors, leaving nothing to chance.

Juliette stood by the doorway, watching him work, a thought crossing her mind. “You know,” she began, her voice light but carrying an edge of dark humor, “if you were the real threat, you could easily kill me here, and no one would ever know.”

Daniel paused, his back still to her as her words hung in the air. Slowly, he turned to face her, his expression serious for a split second before a playful smile tugged at his lips.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “If I were the real threat,” he said quietly. “I think I’d be more creative than this.” He gestured around them, as if to say that choosing such a predictable setting would be beneath him.

Despite his smile, there was a subtle edge to his tone, a hint of something dangerous that lingered just beneath the surface. The contrast between his lightheartedness and the underlying threat made Juliette realize how profoundly she had come to trust him. The fact that he was the only person standing between her and any real danger added weight to his words. Yet, as quickly as the tension had appeared, it was dispelled. His expression softened, the brief flash of darkness vanishing as if he hadn’t just hinted at something far more darker.

“Oh, thanks, I suppose that’s a comforting thought,” she said lightly, her attempt at humour falling flat.

He shot her a quick wink before turning back to finish his sweep of the room, the moment of levity breaking through the lingering tension between them.

Juliette stepped inside the house, her eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. The interior was understated but functional—well-fortified and secure, yet designed for comfort. The furniture was sturdy, the decor simple, and the atmosphere was calming in its own way. She could see the reinforced locks on the doors and the security cameras mounted discreetly around the rooms.

When he spoke again, his tone was gentler, almost reassuring. “This place is as secure as it gets. You’ll be safe here.”

Juliette nodded, taking in the aftermath of the situation. The safe house, though comfortable, felt foreign and isolating. It was a stark contrast to the lively hotel she had left behind, and it brought a new layer of reality to the evening’s events. She began to unpack their essentials alongside Daniel, trying to make the space feel a bit more like home.

As they worked side by side, the silence was no longer uncomfortable. It felt like they were gradually slipping back into their usual rhythm, the unspoken bond between them strengthening after everything they had been through.

Finally, after everything was settled, Daniel sat on the couch, a small smile playing on his lips. “Get comfortable, Your Highness,” he said with a hint of his usual humor. “We might be here for a while.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, a frown playing on her lips. “What do you mean? How long are we staying here?”

“We’ll be staying here for a few days, at least until we’re sure it’s safe to return to the palace,” he explained, his tone more relaxed now. “Vincent could be a one-off, but until we know for sure, this is the best place for us.”

Despite his earlier detachment, Daniel was still the same person she had come to rely on. His professionalism and dedication to her safety were unwavering, but beneath that was a genuine concern for her well-being.

Soon, Juliette retreated to the bedroom, her dress rustling softly as she moved. The room was dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the tasteful furnishings. She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror, noting the intricate beading of her gown and how it clung uncomfortably to her form. The elegance of the dress felt more like a burden than a symbol of grace at that moment.

With a sigh of frustration, she fumbled with the zipper at the back, which had stubbornly snagged. She struggled to fix the issue, feeling the dress that had once made her feel regal now felt like a shackle. Twisting and turning to try and get a grasp on the tiny zipper down her back, the effort seemed futile. Finally, deciding that damaging the dress wasn't worth the stress, she called for Daniel.

She heard his footsteps approach immediately, followed by the soft click of the door opening. Daniel stepped inside, his eyes quickly assessing the situation as he saw Juliette grappling with the stubborn zipper.

“Everything alright, Your Highness?” he asked, his tone neutral as he took in the sight before him.

Juliette turned to face him, her frustration evident. “The zipper won’t budge,” she admitted, lifting her hair to make it easier for him to reach. “I’m afraid I might ruin it if I keep trying.”

Daniel nodded and approached her in a few short strides. He stood close behind her, his breath warm against her neck as he carefully worked on the zipper. His fingers brushed lightly against her skin as he maneuvered the clasp.

“I’ve got it,” he said softly next to her ear, his voice a reassuring murmur. With a deft pull, the zipper slid down smoothly, freeing Juliette from the confines of the dress.

The relief was immediate and palpable. Juliette took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as the tension eased. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer now, laced with genuine gratitude.

A small smile tugged at his lips. “No problem,” he replied. “I’m here to help, after all.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Daniel’s fingers lingered at the base of her spine, his touch barely there but impossible to ignore. The warmth of his hand met the coolness of her bare skin, and Juliette couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down her back. His thumb brushed lightly along the path the zipper had traced, the contact sending a delicate tremor through her.

The air between them grew thick with a tension neither of them seemed eager to break. Juliette’s breath hitched, the simple act of undressing suddenly charged with an unspoken intensity. She turned slightly, just enough to catch his gaze in the reflection of the mirror. The way he looked at her—steady, attentive, with something smouldering beneath the surface—made her pulse quicken.

She hesitated, weighing her words before she spoke. “So, you’d help with anything?” she asked, her voice quiet, almost teasing, but laced with something more. The question hung in the air, a delicate invitation wrapped in subtlety.

Daniel’s eyes darkened ever so slightly, the playful smile on his lips fading into something more thoughtful, more intent. His fingers brushed over her back one last time before he withdrew them, as if reluctantly letting go of something he wasn’t ready to admit.

“Anything you need,” he replied, his voice low, the words carrying a weight that belied their simplicity.

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat at his response, the space between them suddenly feeling charged with possibilities that hadn’t been there before. The room seemed smaller, the silence more intimate, as if they were the only two people in the world at that moment.

But just as quickly as the tension had built, it began to ease as Daniel stepped back, watching her for a moment before leaving the room, giving her the privacy she needed to continue undressing. Yet the undercurrent of their exchange lingered, an unspoken understanding that hung in the air, unresolved but undeniable.

As the door clicked shut, Juliette let the dress slip from her shoulders, leaving her standing in the soft light of the room, feeling both exposed and strangely empowered. Juliette dressed slowly, her mind still replaying the moment with Daniel. She pulled on a pair of soft lounge pants and a loose top, something far more comfortable than the gown she had been confined in all evening. But, no amount of soft fabric could soothe the memory of Daniel’s touch that prickled under her skin.

Deciding to push aside the thoughts that refused to settle, Juliette stepped out of the bedroom and made her way to the living room. But as she entered, she was caught off guard by the sight of Daniel lounging on the sofa, completely at ease in his casual clothes.

He wore a simple t-shirt and a pair of joggers, an outfit that seemed so out of place for the man who usually stood guard in tailored suits. Yet here he was, looking every bit like someone she could have met in a more ordinary life—someone who could have been a friend, maybe even something more. The stark contrast between the Daniel she was used to and the man sitting comfortably before her only served to stir the tension that had simmered between them since their last encounter.

As her eyes adjusted to the brighter light, she noticed the tattoos on his left arm, now fully visible in the soft glow of the room. She had seen a few of them before, when he rolled up his sleeves on the plane, but many had been hidden then. Now, the inked designs told a story she hadn’t expected—a glimpse into a side of him she had never fully seen.

It was hard not to notice how relaxed he appeared, his guard down in a way she hadn’t seen before. The way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, the casual sprawl of his legs, the easy confidence in his posture—it all made him look less like the bodyguard she was supposed to maintain a professional relationship with and more like someone who belonged in her personal life, someone who could effortlessly blur the lines between duty and desire.

Daniel glanced up as she entered, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Hey,” he greeted, his tone as casual as his appearance, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

“Hey,” she replied, trying to sound equally nonchalant as she moved closer. But she couldn’t shake the awareness that prickled beneath her skin, the tension that seemed to hum quietly between them, an undercurrent she couldn’t ignore.

Juliette found herself lingering near the sofa, her eyes subtly tracing the lines of his relaxed form. He looked different, more approachable, yet it was precisely this version of him that felt the most dangerous—the most capable of making her forget the boundaries that had been so carefully constructed. This was the Daniel who could slip into her life in ways that were entirely too intimate, too personal.

“You look…different from your usual attire,” she remarked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Daniel smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Good different or bad different?”

“Good different,” she admitted, a smile playing on her lips. “It suits you. It’s just unexpected, I guess.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “Well, I suppose it’s a side of me you’ll get to see more often while we’re here. No suits or ties required.”

Juliette laughed, feeling some of the tension ease. “I think I can handle that.”

For a moment, silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The tension from earlier still simmered beneath the surface, but they both seemed content to let it lie for now, focusing instead on the small, normal moments that allowed them to relax.

“I was thinking of making something to eat,” Daniel said, breaking the quiet. “I’m starving. Want to join me?”

Juliette’s stomach growled softly at the mention of food, reminding her that it had been hours since they last ate. She glanced at the clock on the wall—it was getting pretty late, midnight struck hours ago, but the idea of sharing a meal with Daniel, even this late, seemed comforting. “Sure. I’m hungry too.”

They moved to the kitchen together, the air between them lighter now, the earlier tension replaced by the comfort of routine. Daniel rummaged through the pantry, pulling out ingredients for a simple meal, while Juliette set about preparing the counter space. It felt almost domestic, the way they worked in tandem, as if they had done this a hundred times before.

They ate together, savoring the simplicity of the meal and the ease of each other’s company. For a brief moment, the worries of the day seemed distant, replaced by light conversation and shared laughter. Daniel’s stories, filled with his humor and vivid descriptions, kept Juliette engaged, her own smiles and laughter coming more freely than it had in days.

As the time passed, though, Juliette could feel a creeping unease settling in her chest. Even the warmth of the meal and Daniel’s comforting presence couldn’t entirely push away the restlessness that lingered at the edges of her mind. The idea of going to bed alone in a strange place, after the events of the day, felt daunting. Yet, she didn’t want to voice it directly. Instead, she found herself drawing out the conversation, asking Daniel about anything and everything—his travels, the places he’d seen, even the tattoos that had caught her eye earlier—details she had never thought to ask before.

Daniel, ever perceptive, indulged her questions with a patient smile, but after a while, he glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late,” he noted gently, his tone still warm but carrying a hint of concern. “You should try to get some rest.”

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat, the reality of the night ahead sinking in. She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep, not in the way she needed to. The silence that had been comforting earlier now felt like it might swallow her whole if she were left alone with it.

Reluctantly, she stood, her hands lingering on the edge of the table as she tried to find the words. Daniel watched her, his gaze steady, sensing that something was off.

“Daniel…” she began, her voice quieter than before. “I don’t think I can sleep.”

He looked at her, understanding dawning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to offer reassurance, to remind her that she was safe here, but she cut him off with a look that told him it wasn’t just about the physical safety of the place.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she finally admitted, the vulnerability in her voice surprising even her. “Could you…stay?”

His brow furrowed slightly as he nodded, clearly ready to reassure her. “I’m not going anywhere, Your Highness. I’ll be here the whole time, right in the next room.”

But she shook her head, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of hesitation and sincerity. “No, I mean…stay. In my room.”

The air between them seemed to thicken, the implications of her request hanging in the space. Daniel’s expression softened, the understanding clear now. He realized it wasn’t just about proximity; it was about presence, about needing someone beside her, more than just physically.

“I didn’t say I’d do anything for you just for the sake of saying it,” Daniel replied, his voice low and earnest. “If you need me, I’ll stay.”

Juliette felt a wave of relief wash over her, the tension easing just a fraction as she nodded. Without another word, Daniel followed her to the bedroom, the unspoken promise of his presence offering a comfort that she hadn’t realized she needed so desperately.

When they reached the room, Daniel didn’t hesitate. He settled into the chair by the window, his gaze never leaving her. “I’ll be right here,” he said, the reassurance in his voice a balm to her frayed nerves.

His presence was solid and grounding, yet he was careful to respect the boundaries of her personal space. He wasn’t about to invade her privacy by suggesting they share the bed or take advantage of her vulnerability. After all, she was a princess, and he was her bodyguard. His role was to provide protection and support without overstepping the delicate balance of their professional relationship. His choice to stay in the chair, maintaining a respectful distance, was a testament to his understanding of the boundaries between them.

Juliette slid into the bed, the unfamiliar sheets feeling just a little more welcoming with him there. She didn’t know if she would sleep, but for the first time all night, the idea didn’t seem so impossible. As she closed her eyes, she let the sound of Daniel’s steady breathing anchor her, the darkness of the room no longer feeling so suffocating.

With him there, maybe, just maybe, she could find some peace.

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cherry-leclerc · 7 months ago

Text

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?”

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It��s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

5K notes · View notes

neferaskingdom · 2 months ago

Text

♡ Flirting? That’s a Track Limit Violation | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Summary: Y/N drops a cryptic elevator pic hugging some random dude and it’s like throwing a grenade into the F1 paddock. Charles and Arthur are ready to form an FBI task force, and the drivers are gossiping harder than a group of high schoolers at lunch. Max? He’s out here pretending he doesn’t care, but we all know he’s five seconds away from flipping a table. Nobody has a clue who the guy is, but Max is sweating, the internet is thriving, and the drama is peak entertainment.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

A/N: thank you soo much for 100 followers guys I never knew this many people would end up liking this little fic. screaming, crying, throwing up fr 😭. also sorry to everyone who had to read the wonky letters version. tumblr messed up my format and I had to individually fix the words.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Part 3 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted an Instagram Story:

📸: A blurry photo of Y/N hugging a guy in an elevator, only his back visible.

Caption: A single red heart emoji❤️

Replies:

danielricciardo:

Popcorn out. Watching the Leclerc brothers have an absolute meltdown in 3… 2… 1… 😂

charles_leclerc:

Who the hell is this guy? Y/N, answer me RIGHT NOW!

arthur_leclerc:

This better be a joke, or I’m tracking your location. WHO. IS. HE?

landonorris:

Wait… bitch did you just drop a boyfriend announcement with a blurry elevator pic?? DID MAX SEE THIS?!?

↪ y/n_leclerc:

What does Max have to do with anything???

↪ landonorris:

OH MY LORD I CANNOT WITH YOU TWO

georgerussell63:

who dis?

alex_albon:

I feel like I just witnessed the calm before the storm. Charles is going to explode. Arthur’s already spiraling.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

Y/N, explain yourself. Who’s this guy?

arthur_leclerc:

SIS, YOU CAN’T JUST DROP A HEART AND EXPECT US TO BE CALM.

maxverstappen1:

So… new friend? Or something else?

↪ landonorris:

Max, you sound… interested? 👀

↪ georgerussell63:

Max, if you’re going to be subtle, you’re failing.

↪ danielricciardo:

Can we all just take a moment to appreciate how Charles is losing his mind over this while Max tries to act like he doesn’t care? 😂

↪ alex_albon:

Max pretending this is just a casual question while we all know he’s about to punch a wall.

lilyzneimer:

y/n_leclerc, the WAGs feel personally betrayed. We thought we were your ride or dies! 💔

charles_leclerc:

NO ONE IS ANSWERING MY QUESTIONS, AND I’M ABOUT TO START FLYING TO FIND THIS GUY.

↪ arthur_leclerc:

Charles, wait for me. I’ve got your back.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Can you guys relax? It’s really not that serious.

lilymhe:

Hello??? y/n_leclerc, you ditched us for a man??? What happened to me being the love of your life? 😭

carmenmmundt:

I thought I was your only love 😞. I feel betrayed babes💔

f1_gossips tweeted:

F1 drivers are officially in meltdown mode after Y/N Leclerc posts a cryptic heart emoji with a mystery man. Charles and Arthur Leclerc are leading the charge, while Max Verstappen seems unusually ‘curious.’ What’s really going on here? 🤔

Comments:

user1:

Max ‘I’m totally not jealous’ Verstappen is the best version of Max.

user2:

Charles is on the verge of hunting this guy down while Max plays detective in the background.

user3:

MAX PRETENDING NOT TO CARE WHILE LITERALLY SWEATING THROUGH HIS RACE SUIT. I SEE YOU, VERSTAPPEN

user4:

This is going to end with Max accidentally confessing feelings. You heard it here first.

user5:

Y/N dropping a single heart emoji and causing the grid to spiral. POWER MOVE. 😈

user6:

Max is acting like he’s not freaking out, but I bet he’s checking her Insta every 10 minutes.

user7:

Arthur and Charles are about to pull up with baseball bats, and Max is trying to act like he’s just ‘concerned.’

y/n_leclerc posted an Instagram Story:

📸: Screenshot of her Instagram comments blowing up with messages from drivers, brothers, and the WAGs.

Caption: Y’all are doing TOO much. Chill, it’s not what you think! 😂

Replies:

charles_leclerc:

IF IT’S NOT WHAT WE THINK, THEN TELL US WHO HE IS. 😡

arthur_leclerc:

Sister, you better have a GOOD explanation for this. We are not playing.

landonorris:

Bro, Charles is about to have a meltdown, and Max is getting quieter. I don’t know which one is scarier.

danielricciardo:

I’ve never seen Charles so unhinged, and I live for this chaos. 🧨

georgerussell63:

You’ve been eerily quiet for someone who usually has a lot to say. Dont tell me this is serious?!?!

y/n_leclerc posted:

📸: Y/N and her best friend posing dramatically in the same elevator.

Caption: Relax, it’s just y/n_bff, my best friend. 😂 Y’all really lost your minds over an elevator hug, huh? Charles, Arthur, you can calm down now.

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! YOU MADE US ALL PANIC FOR THIS?!

arthur_leclerc:

Y/N, YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO US.

maxverstappen1:

So… just a friend, huh? Good to know.

↪ landonorris:

Max, let out the biggest sigh of relief

↪ danielricciardo:

Max pretending he wasn’t two seconds away from launching an investigation.

↪ alex_albon:

Max, it's ok to breathe now. 😂

lilymhe:

Y/N, we need to talk about this betrayal. A PRANK AND YOU DIDN’T TELL US? 💔

↪ carmenmmundt:

You better make it up to us. We feel personally attacked.

f1gossips tweeted:

UPDATE: Y/N Leclerc has revealed the mystery man is just her best friend, but the damage has already been done. Max Verstappen, despite claiming not to care, was very quick to ask for details. Fans are now speculating on Max’s sudden interest. Could there be something brewing? 👀 #MaxYN #LeclercBrothers #PrankChaos #MaxNotJealous

Comments:

user8:

Max is like, ‘I’m not jealous, but… WHO IS THIS GUY?’ 😂

user9:

Charles and Arthur over here ready to fight while Max is low-key spiraling.

user10:

Max trying so hard to be subtle and failing MISERABLY.

user11:

Y/N is playing with fire, and I LOVE IT. She’s making Max sweat.

Groupchat Messages: (maxy/n truthers):

dudududu:

So… no real boyfriend?

albono:

Max, she literally just said that. You can chill now.

dudududu:

I wasn’t not chill. Just… you know, looking out for her.

albono:

Uh-huh. You sound real concerned for a ‘friend,’ Max. 😂

shoeysupremacy:

MAX, JUST ADMIT YOU’RE JEALOUS. IT’S PAINFUL TO WATCH.

norizz:

Max pretending not to care is the worst acting I’ve ever seen.

georgieporgie:

It’s the slowest, most awkward flirtation I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s amazing.

Twitter Reactions:

user12:

The longer this goes on, the more I think Max is one step away from confessing his feelings.

user13:

Max: ‘I’m not jealous, I’m just… CONCERNED.’

user14:

Max watching this whole thing unfold like it’s the worst pit stop of his life.

user15:

Max really out here pretending he didn’t have a minor breakdown over a blurry elevator pic.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: guys I think this might be my favourite spot now.

Liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 220,896 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Just making sure. No weird guys in elevators, right?

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max, stop worrying about elevators. You’re being ridiculous.

↪ maxverstappen1:

I’m just saying. You could do better than a blurry elevator hug. Maybe someone who drives fast for a living. Just a thought.

↪ danielricciardo:

OH MY GOD, MAX IS FLIRTING. MAX IS REALLY DOING THIS.

↪ landonorris:

Max ‘I’m not jealous’ Verstappen is actually… shooting his shot? 😂

↪ georgerussell63:

Y/N, this is your fault. You’ve broken Max.

user16:

MAX FLIRTING??? IS THIS REAL LIFE???

user17:

Max really out here going from ‘I’m not jealous’ to flirting in the comments. What a journey.

user18:

I LOVE THIS. Y/N has Max spinning, and it’s beautiful.

user19:

Max flirted, and the world just shifted on its axis. Did anyone else feel that?

user20:

Max shooting his shot in the most awkward, Max way possible is sending me.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Sunsets🌞

Liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 426,276 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

The only thing more beautiful than this sunset is you

↪ y/n_leclerc:

...Max, what are you doing?

↪ danielricciardo:

OH MY GOD, MAX, DID YOU JUST— DID YOU JUST FLIRT IN PUBLIC? 😂

↪ charles_leclerc:

MAX, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!! 😡

↪ arthur_leclerc:

YOU’RE DEAD, VERSTAPPEN.

↪ landonorris:

Y/N, RUN. MAX IS LOSING IT.

↪ lilymhe:

Y/N, is this your new strategy? Break him down with elevator pranks and watch him crumble? Genius.

user21:

MAX REALLY WENT FOR IT. This man is shooting his shot ON MAIN. 😱

user22:

Y/N’s sundress got Max sweating more than a red flag in Q3. 💀

user23:

Charles and Arthur in full meltdown mode while Max is out here simping. We LOVE TO SEE IT.

user24:

MAX JUST FLIRTED IN THE COMMENTS LIKE IT’S CASUAL?!

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: Caffeine fix ☕

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 420,876 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Bet that coffee isn’t as sweet as you. 😘

↪ y/n_leclerc:

MAX, STOP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING. 😳

↪ landonorris:

STOP. MAX, YOU’RE MAKING IT WORSE. 😂

↪ danielricciardo:

MAX, YOU CAN’T JUST DROP FLIRTY COMMENTS EVERYWHERE. Y/N’S IN SHOCK. 💀

↪ georgerussell63:

Max, for real. Are you okay? Blink twice if you need help.

lilymhe:

Y/N, please explain what kind of witchcraft you used to make Max simp THIS HARD. I need tips. 😂

alex_albon:

I’m both terrified and impressed at how fast Max has gone from 'I don't even like her' to 'full-on simp mode.'

charles_leclerc:

MAX. ENOUGH. I CAN’T HANDLE THIS.

↪ arthur_leclerc:

I’m grabbing the car keys. We’re handling this in person.

user25:

Max flirting in broad daylight while Charles and Arthur spiral into madness. THIS IS PEAK ENTERTAINMENT.

user26:

I need a documentary on how Max went from ‘I fucking hate her’ to dropping flirty lines under every post. 💀

user27:

Max is playing the long game. But damn, is he bad at being subtle.

user28:

I can’t decide if I’m living for this or dying of secondhand embarrassment for Y/N. Max, STOP. 😂

user29:

Y/N, blink twice if Max has you trapped in a flirty comment loop and you don’t know how to escape.

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

Caption: “In the presence of great art, time stands still”

ps. yes I did copy that from google 🤗

Liked by landonorris, pierregasly, alex_albon, and 500,903 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Tried to focus on the art but my eyes keep wandering back to you

↪ alex_albon:

MAX, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? 😵

↪ landonorris:

Max, bro… this is getting uncomfortable. 😂

↪ danielricciardo:

MAX IS GOING FULL ROMEO. SOMEONE STOP HIM BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE.

↪ georgerussell63:

Y/N, how are you even still functioning with this level of public simping?

↪ pierregasly:

I’m cackling. Max is like a flirty tornado right now. 💀

user30:

Max is one more flirty comment away from proposing marriage on Instagram Live.

user31:

Y/N is going to have a nervous breakdown at this rate. Max, CHILL.

user32:

Charles is gonna have a full-on crisis meeting about Max’s public simping. 😂

user33:

Max flirting with Y/N like he’s auditioning for a rom-com. WHAT IS HAPPENING.

user34:

Y/N trying to roast Max while he keeps throwing out flirty comments is actually hilarious. I hope she survives this.

user35:

Max went from “just friends” to dropping Shakespearean lines in under 24 hours. ICONIC.

DMs between Max and Y/N:

y/n_leclerc:

Max.

maxverstappen1:

Yes, Y/N? 😏

y/n_leclerc:

We need to talk. Immediately.

maxverstappen1:

Am I in trouble? Because I can explain everything. 😇

y/n_leclerc:

MAX, WHAT IS GOING ON WITH YOU? The flirting in the comments?? I literally had to restrict my brothers from my posts to stop them from finding and KILLING YOU. 😩

maxverstappen1:

You restricted them?! 😅

y/n_leclerc:

YES. Because you’re out here leaving cheesy flirty comments like we’re on Love Island or something! And the public thinks we’re secretly dating. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? MAX. You’ve been openly flirting with me in front of CHARLES. On Instagram. IN FRONT OF THE WORLD. They’re going crazy.

maxverstappen1:

Oh, right. I forgot about the brothers. Oops. 😅

y/n_leclerc:

Forgot about the brothers?? You’re practically signing up for your own funeral. 😩

maxverstappen1:

Come on, Y/N, it’s not that bad. 😏

y/n_leclerc:

...Max. I’ve got people DMing me, my brothers are two steps away from driving to your house, and the internet is convinced we’re dating. You're taking the jokes way too far, and I don’t know what you’re playing at, but it needs to stop.

maxverstappen1:

...I wasn’t joking.

y/n_leclerc:

Excuse me?

maxverstappen1:

I’m not joking. About the flirting.

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT JOKING?! 😳

maxverstappen1:

I like you.

y/n_leclerc:

...Like, “like me” like me?

maxverstappen1:

Yes. 🙃

y/n_leclerc:

No. This is a prank. You’re pranking me. Where’s the camera? WHERE IS IT? 😵

maxverstappen1:

It’s not a prank, Y/N. I’ve liked you for a while.

y/n_leclerc:

MAX. You can’t just drop a BOMB like this in my DMs. What the hell do you mean “for a while”?!

maxverstappen1:

Years. 😅

y/n_leclerc:

YEARS?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN YEARS?! 😱

maxverstappen1:

I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to ruin our thing. You know, the teasing, the banter. But when I saw that elevator post, I thought you had a boyfriend. It freaked me out. I realized I had to say something.

y/n_leclerc:

Oh my god, this is so much worse than I thought. 😵‍💫

maxverstappen1:

I didn’t want to mess things up, but I can’t keep pretending. I care about you, Y/N. More than just friends. I had to shoot my shot.

y/n_leclerc:

...You saw one blurry elevator pic and had a full-on emotional breakdown?

maxverstappen1:

Pretty much, yeah.

y/n_leclerc:

Max, this isn’t real life. This is some Netflix rom-com level nonsense, and I’m... confused.

maxverstappen1:

I know it’s sudden. But I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t want to lose you and watch you love someone that wasn’t me

y/n_leclerc:

...oh.

come over

maxverstappen1:

what?

y/n_leclerc:

come over to my place so that I can kiss you dumbass cuz believe it or not but I kinda like you too

maxverstappen1:

gimme 5.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

1K notes · View notes

hamilando · 3 months ago

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ੈ✩ nxdes? (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : charles leclerc x fem reader

summary : “have you seen my boyfriend ?” “HAVE YOU SEEN HER !?”

tw : fluff, very suggestive

a/n : So this was requested anonymously, so if you are seeing this, Hope you like it 💫

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ･ﾟ·:｡

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy how I feel when I feed you all thirsty socks 🧦

view comments

user1 idk what is killing me- the caption or the photos 🗿

user2 English or Spanish ?

user3 f1mommy 💀🦅

user4 charles, don’t be shy, drop it on me

user5 I want to ride carlos like he rides his bike-

user6 did she just call us socks !?

charlesleclerc can you stop leaking pictures ? I won’t hesitate to sue you

user7 oops-

user8 LORD PERCEVAL GOT SERIOUS THERE

f1mommy @ charlesleclerc you weren’t complaining when you sent me your nudes 💋

user9 AND I-

user10 is it true or -

user11 mommy, can we get the charles junior baby pics ?

user12 that’s quite a way to frame it 💀

user13 she casually dropped christian in between

f1mommy @ user13 you would need some Jesus after god hears your thoughts

user14 istg this girl has been taking sarcasm classes

f1mommy @ user14 rizzing your mama up classes

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy this is a Charles leclerc fan page ( minus the nudes)

view comments

user1 SHIRTLESS CHARLES !?

user2 IN HD!?

user3 I WILL BE YOUR SUGGA MOMMA F1MOMMY

f1mommy hit me up bbugurl 💋

user4 yes, you all are correct, he was talking to me in second pic

user5 serving your delusion ofc

f1mommy she serving looks atleast user4 @ f1mommy ily 😭

user5 who is she ?

user6 we don’t know, we just enjoy what mommy gives us 😮‍💨

user7 how does she get them ?

user8 she hacked their phones ?

user9 techie alert

f1mommy the only tech thing I know is incognito at night 💪🏻

user10 digital footprint ?

f1mommy you would like mine on you though ?

charlesleclerc can you stop leaking my pictures ?

f1mommy can you stop fucking me ?

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy me watching y’all burn your brains to guess who is me

view comments

user1 if this accounts turns out to be run by a 50 year old lady-

f1mommy you will ask me to fuck you ?

user2 just tell us who you are

user3 she has a things for dilf

f1mommy I am one myself -

user4 I will pay you 69 cents to reveal yourself

f1mommy I would prefer performing 69 💋

user5 dududuu HELL WHA-

user6 I have given up-

user7 the iconic toto

user8 Only king toto can help us

user9 I can feel the user smirking reading all the comments

user10 the person is definitely a sadist

liked by user1, user2, user3 and others

f1mommy Hi, I am yours and his mommy 🫶🏻 @ charlesleclerc

view comments

user1 WHAT ?

user2 YOU ARE CHARLE’S GIRLFRIEND !?

f1mommy yes baby girl ☺️

user3 please tell me that this is a joke

charlesleclerc now can you send me some ?

charlesleclerc after you have exposed that I am your boyfriend ?

f1mommy you have the keys, come watch it in 4D

user4 so now y’all decide to be freaky ?

user5 now Charles interacting on a fan account makes sense

user6 the pictures too

user7 so she really didn’t hack-

user8 welcome to the fam sis

f1mommy I was there way before you love 🧡

1K notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 25 days ago

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Apply or nominate: https://ecoamerica.org/american-climate-leadership-awards-2025/

Calling all organizations, individuals, and small businesses successfully engaging Americans on climate! Showcase your creativity and climate solutions by applying for @ecoamerica’s 2025 American Climate Leadership Awards. You can win $1K - $50K by submitting your efforts for consideration by a stellar line-up of judges and individuals leading on climate. It’s quick and easy to submit your application or nominate inspirational climate leaders. Apply or nominate today!

6K notes · View notes

dumbseee · 7 months ago

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matchmaker.

in which max is tired of lando being a single mess, so he plays matchmaker.

lando norris x famous!reader.

fc: sabrina carpenter.

liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes, madisonbeer and 1 738 929 others.

y/n: lil photodump 💭

madisonbeer: my goddess!! miss you pookie xx

liked by y/n.

user: QUEEN OMGGBSKSKSL

user: she’s addicted to slaying

user: pls come to brazil!!

user: can’t wait to see you in paris!!

user: she’s so pretty wtf

user: Y/N AND MADISON COLLAB WHEN??

user: emails i can’t send is a masterpiece y/n!!

user: JUST ONE CHANGE IM BEGGING AHKSOSLSL

user: the man who’s going to date her is literally the luckiest man on earth

imessages between max and lando.

max:

mate

i have good news

lando:

what?

i’m scared actually

max:

fuck off

it’s for your own sake

lando:

okay NOW i’m terrified

max:

SHUT IT

you’re going on a blind date tonight

lando:

no?

max:

wasn’t a question you idiot

be ready at 9

a car will come pick you up

lando:

DHAT

WHAT

MAX ANWSER

WITH WHO???

I REFUSE

imessages between max and lando.

lando:

max fewtrell.

did you REALLY sent me on a blind date with Y/N FUCKING L/N??

WITHOUT WARNING ME??

i was SO embarrassing

max:

okay for my defense, i didn’t know

i asked kika to find me someone who could match your vibe and apparently it had to be y/n…

BUT apparently it went well so we good

lando:

mate

i fucking spilled my wine on her expensive looking dress

i tripped over my own feet when i got up to pay the bill

i stuttered when she asked for my NAME

i almost slipped when i tried to open the car door for her

i answered « that’s cool » when she told me that the inspiration for her new album was her past and traumatic relationship

max:

holy shit dude

she’s never calling you again that’s for SURE

well at least we tried

lando:

wait till i catch you and kika

i’ll run you over with my car

BOTH OF YOU TRAITORS

max:

i’m innocent

it’s all kika’s fault

imessages between max, kika and lando.

kika:

YOU COWARD

SHE THINKS YOU DIDN’T LIKE HER

TEXT HER NOW

max:

why are we yelling

kika:

go on twitter and see for yourself

lando:

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDN’T LIKE HER??

she should be the one to dislike me i literally made a fool out of myself BECAUSE I WASN’T PREPARED TO MEET MY CELEBRITY CRUSH???

kika:

you should be always prepared lando norris

lando:

omg give me a break

what should i do?

max:

her fans hate you lmao

text her maybe?

kika:

I HAVE A BETTER IDEA

invite her for the miami gp!

yes i’m a genius

lando:

do you want me to crash on the wall francisca?

i will 100% fumble the race if i know she’s watching

max:

oh my god

why are you such a pussy?

lando:

fuck YOU

this is all your fault

kika:

if you don’t invite her, i WILL

lando:

FINE

but if i die i’ll haunt your ass forever

kika:

who knows maybe you’ll finally win a race ;)

mister lando NOwins

lando:

wow i didn’t know mister pierre gasly was a race winner already

max:

okay enough you two

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, francisca.cgomes and 2 628 048 others.

y/n: may not know a lot about formula one, but i know for a fact that you deserved that win. i can’t wait to be with you during your journey, pretty boy <3

landonorris: i couldn’t ask for a better partner, pretty girl <3

user: YESSS FINALLY

user: omg they’re together??

user: WTFFFABSKSLMSLS

user: no bc why are they so cute??

user: aww she was so happy for him when he won

user: lmao the cameraman kept zooming in on her when lando won ajsksllz

user: PARENTS

user: CONGRATS LANDO

user: he better treat her right

user: they’re cute ngl

2K notes · View notes

charlotteking23 · 4 months ago

Text

The Times You Have Pranked Lando - LN4

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Putting suspicious items in the cart in front of Lando

Lando and you have a free day, so what better way to spend your time than shopping at a store?

Today you felt rebellious after seeing some tiktoks of girls pranking their boyfriends.

After grabbing some things for the house, It's time to put your plan into motion. Thinking about this, you started to grin evilly before putting on a resting face so Lando wouldn't suspect anything.

You grab a gallon of bleach putting in the cart in front of Lando.

"Why do we need Bleach"? He questioned

"Because we ran out," You said trying to play it off, unsuspecting.

"How we just got some the other day? Lando said putting his hand up in a questioning movement.

"I need some more LANDO!, You said ending the conversation, silently giggling, in your head at his reaction.

"ok", Lando mumbled quickly.

You then grab a cleaning tool putting it in the cart.

"What you got to scrub"?! Lando said peering over to correctly see what you put in the cart.

"I got some deep cleaning to do babe." You said trying to hold in your laugh from your boyfriend's reaction.

"Deep cleaning for WHAT? Lando said judging the crap out of you.

"It's spring", you replied back.

Lando looks at you and then the scrubber, then you again, "It's spring", mocking you.

You put a box of Latex gloves in the cart.

"Why are you getting latex gloves", Lando said looking freaked out now.

"Because I have to use bleach, but I don't want to hurt my hands," you said showing him your hands.

"I knew watching the true crime was a bad idea now you are turning into a serial killer", Lando said looking so done with you,

Having more fun, you picked up a roll of duct tape putting it in the cart on top of the gloves.

Lando looks flabbergasted at the sight of the duct tape.

"What The Fuck...", Lando said looking over at the cart again.

carrying the Fiskars Lopper tool towards the cart putting it gently.

"The math ain't mathing no more babe", Lando said shaking his head in disbelief.

"NOOO!!", Lando said before running out of the store as fast as he could.

"Where are you going"? You said laughing.

"Not with your ass", He said running the fastest you had ever seen him before.

Summary: Lando and you got into an argument so you told him you were going to sleep in the closet...

"Babe, I'm gonna go sleep in the closet," You said taking the blanket off your sleeping boyfriend.

"babe-...", Lando said in a groggy voice from waking up.

"Give me the blanket. I'm gonna go in the closet.", you said before turning to your boyfriend who looked at you with his puppy dog eyes telling you not to leave.

"Wait...you're right. I need my pillow," You said before taking the pillow under his head.

"If you need me, I'm gonna be in the closet", you finished before heading into the closet hearing a faint whine of no from Lando.

"Babe, I need you to sleep with me...I can't sleep without you", he said sitting up on the bed and calling out to you.

You closed the closet door laying down on your makeshift bed of blankets and pillow, cuddling up to go to sleep.

You heard knocking on the door knowing of course it was Lando, "No," you replied to Lando's repeated knocking.

"Babe I have your favorite snack", Lando said opening the door ever so slightly.

"What kind of snack is it? You replied.

"Your favorite", Lando said slowly coming out from behind the door and showing you the snack he brought.

"Okay, fine. You can come", You said finally giving in to Lando's cute face and voice he does.

"Hehe"..."Yay I can join you," he said as you both laughed while he jumped cutely, coming towards to get under the blanket.

You laugh seeing Lando coming closer to you under the blanket making himself comfy while cuddling you.

"You're so cute," You said laughing as Lando continued to kiss your cheek.

1K notes · View notes

taasgirl · 7 months ago

Text

lover - oscar piastri

summary: y/n is a songwriter who writes plenty of songs however no one realizes that they're made by her (and about oscar hehe)!

a/n: the outcomes of the races are fictional, and the order in which these songs have been written (assume fearless was written this year ygwim?). also no face claim!!

liked by yukitsunoda, oscarpiastri, and 33, 287 others ynusername romance is not dead if you keep it just yours! lovelovelove being able to come home for race day!! i'm so proud of u osc 🩷

oscarpiastri I'm so lucky 🥰 liked by ynusername

user27633 Y/N IS A SWIFTIE CONFIRMED!?!?!

ynusername of course!!

user16372 u literally take the cutest photos of oscar

user82537 y/n quoting paris... i'm so up

yukitsunoda 😆😆

landonorris You're my favourite wag

ynusername wow how considerate

liked by taylorswift, landonorris, and 1, 287, 387 others oscarpiastri Unwinding before Japan 👊

ynusername tehee we're cute

oscarpiastri You're cuter landonorris Get a room

taylorswift ooooh she's working hard @ ynusername

user62584 WHAT THE FUCK ARE U DOING HERE???

user98274 OSCAR IS FRIENDS WITH TAYLOR HUH

user61192 i did not expect to see taylor in the comments of oscar's post tagging y/n!

user92898 no fr like what is going on

user93829 Everyone shut up about taylor look at the beauty that is y/n omd

view ynusername's story...

liked by jackantonoff, phoebebridgers, and 55, 918, 278 others taylorswift In honour of my album 'The Tortured Poets Department' release a week ago, I wanted to thank my biggest musical inspirations! Thank you Jack, Lana, and Y/N for helping me the best artist I could possibly be, without you'd guys I'd be nowhere (thank you y/n for writing the cheesiest, cutest, sexiest songs ever)!!

user51862 who is y/n

user01827 She's dating f1 driver oscar piastri but also now apparently a songwriter idk...

user72973 Wdym thanks y/n for writing?? you're telling me the twitter stans were right??

user62863 y/n is singlehandedly uniting f1 and the swifties

ynusername thank u tay 💓💓

user52868 Girl has been living a double life

user51929 ohhh so this is why taylor was commenting on oscar's post😭

liked by oscarpiastri, taylorswift, and 108, 276 others ynusername well now that the cat is out of the bag, who wants to hear a story? i assume u all said yes.

on one of our first dates, oscar made me a bracelet (yes that one) and i thought (and still think) that it was one of the most romantic gestures. so obviouslyyy i wrote 'lover' about him hehe. yes we only knew each other for at most three months when i wrote it, but i love him so much, he's my forever.

oscarpiastri I love having a singer for a girlfriend (wife one day)

ynusername hello cat boy

user18739 You're telling me that taylor's most romantic song is literally written by my favourite wag about my favourite driver?? i might pass out

ynusername haha yes! i write a lot of songs for tay

landonorris So this song is basically about ur delusions liked by ynusername

user52863 oh now i need to know exactly what songs you've written

user20939 AND PLEASE RECORD COVERS OF THEM TOO

lilymhe wait so you've been friends with taylor the whole time...

lilymhe AND THE SONG THAT I WANT PLAYED AT MY WEDDING IS WRITTEN ABOUT OSCAR?? ynusername oh my god lily HAHA

let me know if you liked this!! i know it's super short but i'm seriously lacking inspo and ideas omd. also i literally love oscar so much.

i'm also working on a few reqs, so if you have a suggestion or request, let me know because i'd love to do it!!

1K notes · View notes

futurewdclandonorris · 1 year ago

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Workout | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando and you have different ideas on working from home

Warnings: smut is my plot, unprotected sex, long read (2.9k+ words)

A/N: ending is filthy, in a way. I need to be drenched in holy water and restrained from writing smut from now on for my own sanity.

It was one of those days when Lando and you didn’t feel like leaving the house even though you still had things to do. With that in mind, you decided to work from home and well, Lando also decided to work from home. Workout. In front of you and your laptop.

Lando started his warm up long before you settled on the living room couch. Walking past him with your computer under your arm, you murmured “I can think of a better workout.” very nonchalantly.

He perked up, his eyebrows shooting up and bliss of curiosity filled his green eyes. He crawled to you on his knees and tilted his head like a puppy. “What-What do you mean?”

You peeked at him over the screen of your laptop. If this was a cartoon, you’d be able to see question marks pop up above his head, but he was just smiling stupidly at you.

“Nothing.” you said at last, averting your eyes back to the screen.

He gave you a confused look, murmuring an “alright” before jumping straight into it. You let a silent groan of frustration. Sitting with your laptop on your knees with a good view of him, how could he not get it?

As Lando continued his workout routine, you couldn't help but steal glances at him every so often. His muscular form was enticing, and you couldn't help but feel a certain heat building within you. You tried to ignore the feeling, tried to focus on your work, but it was no use. Lando's movements were hypnotizing, and you found yourself getting lost in your own thoughts, watching him over the rim of the screen.

There was a bead of sweat gliding down his forehead, that you followed so closely, sliding down to the side of his face to his neck and finally disappearing under his shirt that was already sticking to his body.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the thoughts that were clouding your judgment. Lando didn't seem to notice, still focused on his workout. You let out a soft sigh, feeling the heat between your legs intensify. Typing your fingers off, you tried to distract (and fool) yourself by pretending to be oh so busy, but if someone asked what it is that you’re working on, you wouldn’t be able to tell them.

However, you’d be able to tell them how you wish his sweat would mingle with yours, your bodies entwined, and both of you gasping for air. His muscular arms wrapped around your body, hot breath on your neck as he whispered dirty things in your ear--Ugh! Such thoughts caused another frustrated groan to escape you, and not a silent one this time. Averting his eyes to you, that finally seemed to catch his attention.

“You know,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I think I know what you meant earlier.”

“Oh, yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, trying to act unfazed, looking back at your laptop.

“Yeah, and it won’t be too long before I finish and give you all the attention you need.”

“Careful, don’t overwork yourself. We don’t want you to get injured.” you warned in a playful manner.

“Of course not, that’s why you’ll be doing all the work.” that finally made you snap your eyes to him to meet his grinning face followed with a wink while he bent over to one side, doing his stretches.

You couldn't deny the heat that flared within you at his words. Lando had always known how to push your buttons, and you couldn't help but feel the sudden urge to give in to his desires. With a deep inhale, you set your laptop aside and walked over to him. Lando's eyes widened in surprise as you straddled him, your hands gripping his sweat-drenched shirt.

"Is this what you want?" you whispered in his ear, grinding your hips against his. He let out a low groan, his hands finding their way to your waist.

"I thought you were busy." he teased, his lips trailing down your neck.

"I am. Busy wanting you." you moaned, your fingers finding their way to his sweaty curls and pulling him into a heated kiss.

The lips that met yours were softer than you imagined, and tasted like salt, sweat and the mint of his toothpaste. You could feel his hard muscles pressed against your body, and you moaned softly as he nibbled on your bottom lip. He pulled you closer by the waist, your lips moving in perfect sync, tongues exploring each other's mouths as the heat between you grew more intense.

Breaking the kiss, you looked at him with lust-filled eyes. "I want you, Lando," you breathed out, trailing your hand down his chest.

He didn't need any more encouragement. Lando stood up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid down with you on top of him. His hands went up your shirt, sliding slowly up your skin and making you shiver. You could feel your bra rubbing against your sensitive nipples, and the sensation combined with Lando's lips against your neck, his tongue teasing you, and his hands on your waist was enough to drive you crazy.

He pulled your shirt over your head and unclasped your bra all at once. Your nipples hardened at the draft of cool air that raced down your body. He brushed his fingers over them, circling your nipples slowly before finally teasing your areolas and pulling on them gently.

"God, you're so hot." he moaned, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while his fingers teased the other.

"Make me hotter." you moaned back, grinding your hips against his while pulling him closer.

"I can do that." he smirked, his hand finding its way down your pants to rub against your soaked panties.

"Don't tease me." you moaned, your head falling back.

Even with you on top of him, Lando was the dominant one. You were his to enjoy, his to use. His to play with. He pulled your panties aside and slid a finger inside you. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, your back arching back from the pleasure. His tongue circled your elicited nipple before he bit it teasingly. His free hand played with your free nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

Pulling his left hand out of your panties, he finished unbuttoning your pants and tugged down on them, wanting to take them off. You got the message and got off him for a split second in order to do so. That gave him an open window to remove his shirt and settle flat on the bed.

“Sit on my face.” he ordered.

You stopped undressing. You could feel the heat rushing into your cheeks and you shyly put down your head, looking away. It was something you’ve never done. Not with Lando, not with anyone. Butterflies in your stomach flew like crazy. You finally felt brave to look at him, your lips parting slightly. He noticed your hesitation and smiled.

"Trust me." his hand found yours, his thumb caressing the back of yours.

You could see the innocence in his eyes, as if he had no idea what you were so afraid of. You quickly pulled your panties off, and without hesitation, straddled his face, your legs on either side of his head, and glided upwards. The sight of him under you, his cheeks caressing your thighs, his lips curled into a smile made you shudder pleasantly.

Lando's hands held your hips, his thumbs teasing your waist, urging you to go on. Your body was tingling all over, and you felt like you were about to explode. Suddenly, you dropped your hips, making Lando moan between your legs. You could feel his lips against your inner thighs. His hands found their way to your ass, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Fuck, you're so wet.” he groaned, his tongue licking up every inch of you, reaching your clit in an instant.

No wonder, you thought; it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You moaned as his tongue circled it slowly, stopping every now and then to flick it. He let out a deep groan, and you could feel his tongue vibrating against your clit. You started grinding yourself against his face, feeling yourself already on the edge. You gripped at his hair as he pushed a finger inside you, slowly and gently. He sucked on your clit and pulled it into his mouth to tease it with his tongue.

He moved his tongue to your entrance and began licking your walls before moving back to your clit. It was enough to make you lose control. The pleasure from his tongue and fingers sent you over the edge, your entire body spasming as you came hard against his mouth, only his strong arms preventing you from moving forward.

"Fuck." you moaned as you caught your breath, leaning down on him.

"Turn around.” he lightly tapped your ass, a devilish grin on his face.

Your breath hitched and lips parted as if you wanted something to say, but decided against it. You could feel your cheeks burning red. You gulped down heavily and turned around. These things are not something you plan, they just happen.

Lando held you in place by the hips as you sat on his face once more, his tongue reaching your clit almost instantly. You let out a loud moan, gripping onto the sheets. His tongue circled it, flicking it before he sucked on it. He pushed his tongue inside you, licking your walls in soft, sensual motions.

Your hands found the waistband of his shorts and slid it down quickly enough alongside with his boxers. His erection sprung free, long and hard, and your eyes widened at the sight of it. But you had no time to waste admiring him for you already gripped him in your hand.

“Mm, good girl.” Lando moaned against you, proud that you got the message. “Keep going.”

You began stroking his length slowly at first, still getting used to the feeling. But it didn’t take long until you were moving your hand in sync with his tongue, guiding his head to your clit. Lando let out a low groan as you slid your hand up and down, your grip tightening at every slow motion, your hand sliding up to the tip before going all the way down again.

He kept licking you, his tongue sliding in and out of your entrance, and his hands gripped your hips, pushing you down harder against his face. You let out a loud moan as he pushed the tip of his tongue against your g-spot, sliding it up and down. His hands slid up your thighs, slowly making their way to your hips and ass.

You decided it was your turn to tease him now. Sticking out your tongue, you ran it over his head.

“Fuck,” Lando hissed, his head falling onto the mattress, but only momentarily.

His hip bucked up, begging you to take more of him. You took him inside your mouth, letting your tongue explore every inch of his shaft. You slowly licked your way up and down, feeling him get more and more excited. You could feel his hands pulling you closer to him, desperate for more. You moved faster and faster, taking a little more of him each time until you couldn’t possibly fit any more. You pulled back, his dick wet with your saliva. You slid up again, letting his erection slide between your lips before finally taking him into your mouth once more.

His movements on your pussy slowed down, but his tongue was as hard as ever, teasing your clit and lips with every lick. He let his hands slide up your back and down again, his fingers teasing your ass. One of his fingers circled your entrance before putting pressure on it. It took you aback for a moment. You took him out of your mouth, letting your breaths calm down a little. You could feel his erection pulsing against your wrist. You felt yourself getting closer to orgasm already.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum!” you moaned, your hand squeezing now as you stroked him faster.

“Good. Give it to me.” he grunted, his tongue never stopping its movement, his lips still sucking on your clit.

The pressure was getting unbearable. You could feel him suck harder on your clit as he stroked you faster, your hand matching his rhythm.

“Lando.” you moaned his name as you felt yourself approaching the edge.

He groaned as he sucked on you, your juices spilling onto his face and tongue. You came with a loud moan and trembling body.

Constantly panting and moaning, you watched as Lando turned around and sat against the headboard. He unhooked your legs from around his head and brought you up so that you were sitting on his lap. He leaned against the headboard and pulled you towards him, your legs spread wide around his hips, your back to his chest. You let out a moan and shuddered as his erection slid along your folds.

“What do you want? I can make you feel good.” he whispered in your ear, his fingers teasing your clit.

"Fuck me." you whispered as you turned around, facing him.

You could tell by his look that he had a devilish grin on his face, and you couldn't help but smile back. You could feel yourself getting wet again as he slowly pushed himself inside you. You moaned as he filled you up inch by inch, his hands on your breasts, teasing your nipples. He let out a grunt of pleasure as he filled you all the way up.

"Fuck.” his whisper was already strained.

"Fuck me as hard as you can.” you breathed out heavily, hissing every time he moved inside you.

“Baby, I have to slow down.” he chuckled.

"For fuck’s sake,” you groaned, taking the matters into your own hands.

Turning to face him, you slid him inside you, all the way to the hilt. He moaned, a throaty, almost animalistic moan. He pounded his head back into the headboard, his hands digging into your skin even harder. You could hear him groaning, his body tensing under you.

You smirked, pulling out of him slowly. So that’s how you’re playing this, huh?

You slid out of him once more, only to slam down again. His head fell back against the mattress, his fingers digging into your skin even harder. You repeated the motion a few more times, each time loving his reaction to you teasing him.

“You still want to slow down, baby?” you arched your brow, smirking.

“Fuck me, baby, come on.” Lando groaned heavily, his head hanging from the side, unable to focus his eyes on you.

You took his arousal in your hands and pushed yourself down on him, his tip hitting you deep. You took a moment to let your body adjust to his girth before you began pounding yourself on him. He growled lowly as you kept going. You slipped a hand between your bodies and began rubbing your clit. His chest was heaving as he let out low moans, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Harder.” he grunted out, his hands sliding down to your hips.

You nodded and obeyed, slamming down onto him as hard as you could. You could feel it getting harder for you to keep up with the rhythm. Your muscles started to tense up. Your lips parted as you let out a soft moan. You could feel his tip pressing deep into you, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. You kept moving faster, letting your clit grind against his pelvic bone every now and then. His hands found your hair and he grabbed a chunk of it. He pulled on it, using it as leverage to straighten himself up and meet your face.

“God, you’re so tight.” his breaths were shaky and his voice pitched higher. You could tell he was close, so you moved your hips faster, stroking him harder.

"And you're so loud." you teased, wanting to hear him scream.

He didn't say anything, but pulled on your hair again, a silent affirmation of what you had just stated. You loved the sensation. He pulled harder, his other hand scratching your back. You could tell that his orgasm was close.

“Fuck!” he hissed loudly, his whole body tensing beneath you.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, Lando, baby,” you said in a low voice as you kept moving, his cock pulsing inside you.

He let out a loud groan as you felt his release taking over. His hands pulled on your hair and his cock tensed, shooting his hot cum deep inside you. His release filled you up, spilling out of you. You felt your muscles tense again. His load shot out of you, dripping down his shaft. You could feel his cock throbbing as more of his cum spilled out. You moaned loudly, your muscles twitching. Lando let out a final groan as your own orgasm took hold of you.

Lando’s hands slid down your body slowly until he reached your hips. He slowly let go of your hair, still panting heavily. You sat down on his lap, still straddling him. You looked into his eyes and you couldn't help but smile.

“That was a good workout.”

“Maybe I should consider doing this routine more often.”

“Maybe.” you sneakily smirked, kissing his chest.

3K notes · View notes

its-avalon-08 · 3 months ago

Text

what are we running from? (op81)

(monza has my heart, but what is mclaren doing? papaya rules and all that shit for more tension? our boys deserve better! enjoy this one because i shed a few tears writing it <3 )

✦ pairing - oscar piastri x female!reader

✦ genre - friends to lovers, neglect, a LOT angst, alot of tears, super long im sorry

Oscar Piastri and Y/N had always been inseparable, their bond forged in the fires of shared experiences and unwavering support. From the outside, their relationship seemed almost too good to be true—two best friends who had known each other for years, with a connection so deep that it felt like they were more than just friends, even if neither of them had ever dared to say it out loud.

It had started back in their school days, when they first met in a classroom filled with the nervous energy of new beginnings. Oscar, with his quiet determination and sharp wit, had caught Y/N’s attention almost immediately. She, on the other hand, had this vibrant, magnetic personality that drew people in, and before long, they had become fast friends.

As time went on, their friendship only grew stronger. They spent countless hours together, whether it was studying for exams, watching movies, or just hanging out at each other’s houses. They knew each other’s quirks, habits, and fears better than anyone else. Oscar could tell when Y/N was upset just by the way she fidgeted with her hair, and Y/N knew exactly when Oscar needed a distraction by the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They were a team, an unbreakable pair that everyone else could only admire. Friends would often joke about how they were like an old married couple—finishing each other’s sentences, knowing each other’s favorite foods, and sharing a kind of unspoken communication that others found both endearing and perplexing.

But it wasn’t just their closeness that made their relationship special; it was the way they supported each other through everything. When Oscar started his journey in racing, Y/N was there every step of the way, cheering him on from the sidelines, offering words of encouragement when things got tough, and celebrating with him after every victory. She was his rock, his constant, and in a world that was often unpredictable, Y/N was the one thing Oscar could always count on.

And Oscar was just as devoted to Y/N. He was the one she called in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep, the one who listened patiently to her dreams and fears, the one who knew exactly how to make her laugh when she was feeling down. He was the calm to her storm, the steady presence that grounded her when everything else felt chaotic.

Their physical closeness was another thing that set them apart. Oscar and Y/N were never shy about showing affection—whether it was cuddling on the couch during movie nights, holding hands when they were out together, or the way Y/N would rest her head on Oscar’s shoulder when she was tired. It was the kind of closeness that blurred the lines between friendship and something more, but they had always kept it in the realm of friendship, never daring to cross that invisible boundary.

Yet, underneath it all, there was something unspoken between them, something that both of them felt but neither of them acknowledged. It was in the way Oscar’s heart would skip a beat whenever Y/N smiled at him, or the way Y/N’s breath would catch whenever Oscar hugged her just a little too tightly. It was the feeling that there was something more between them, something that could change everything if they ever dared to explore it.

But that unspoken connection, as strong as it was, also carried a weight—a fear of losing what they had if they ever tried to turn it into something more. And so, they kept it hidden, buried beneath layers of friendship, where it was safe from the risks that came with love.

They were best friends—inseparable, devoted, and utterly reliant on each other. But beneath the surface, there was a tension, a yearning that neither of them wanted to admit. And it was only a matter of time before that tension would come to a head, forcing them to confront the feelings they had both tried so hard to ignore.

<3 <3

Oscar had always known he was in trouble when it came to Y/N. From the moment they met, they had clicked in a way that felt effortless, natural—like they were meant to be in each other's lives. She was his best friend, his confidante, his comfort. But somewhere along the way, Oscar had started feeling something more. He fell for her, hard, and though every fiber of his being screamed to tell her, he never did. He couldn’t risk losing her.

But things had changed. Y/N had started seeing someone new, and for the first time, Oscar felt the ground shift beneath him. Their usual routine of late-night calls, movie marathons, and endless cuddles had been replaced by her excited chatter about her new boyfriend, her plans for dates, and the moments that didn’t include him.

flashback

The shift in Y/N’s behavior started subtly, but it grew more apparent with each passing day. Oscar noticed it first at the small gatherings they used to enjoy together—nights spent with their closest friends, where they would usually stick close, laughing at inside jokes and exchanging amused glances from across the room. But now, things were different.

It began with Jake, the guy Y/N had started seeing. At first, Oscar didn’t think much of it—he’d seen Y/N date before, and it had never really affected their friendship. But something about Jake seemed to pull her further away from him in a way that felt like a slow, painful drift.

The first time it really hit him was at a party one of their mutual friends was hosting. Oscar had arrived a bit late, expecting to find Y/N waiting for him with a drink in hand, eager to catch him up on everything he’d missed. But instead, he found her on the other side of the room, wrapped up in Jake’s arms, laughing at something he’d said.

Oscar tried to brush it off, forcing a smile as he approached. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted her, hoping for the usual warmth in her eyes.

She glanced over at him, but the smile she gave him was distant, almost distracted. “Oh, hey, Oscar,” she replied, her tone casual, as if he were just another guest at the party.

It stung, more than he cared to admit. “What’s going on? Missed anything exciting?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Y/N shrugged, her attention already shifting back to Jake. “Not really. Just hanging out.”

Oscar’s heart sank. This wasn’t like her. She was usually the first to pull him into the fun, to drag him into ridiculous games or tease him about not dancing enough. But now, it felt like he was intruding, like he didn’t belong.

The night went on, and the gap between them only seemed to widen. At one point, Oscar found himself standing near the bar, watching as Y/N and Jake danced together, completely absorbed in each other. It was as if the rest of the room had faded away, including him.

When they finally took a break, Oscar made his way over, hoping to at least steal a few minutes with her. “So, how’s it going with Jake?” he asked, trying to sound supportive despite the knot in his stomach.

Y/N looked at him with a small, polite smile, but there was no spark of excitement in her eyes, none of the usual fire that had always drawn him in. “It’s good. He’s great, really.”

“Yeah, he seems nice,” Oscar said, forcing the words out. “We should hang out more—like old times.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to Jake before she answered. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”

That was it. Just a vague, noncommittal response that left Oscar feeling more isolated than ever.

The next few days were more of the same. Y/N started canceling plans, saying she was too busy or that she had already made plans with Jake. When they did hang out, she was distracted, constantly checking her phone, as if waiting for a message from Jake to pull her away again.

Oscar tried to hide his frustration, but it grew harder with each passing day. He noticed how Y/N seemed to change around Jake—she was more subdued, less like herself. The playful, confident girl he knew was replaced by someone who seemed almost… unsure. She laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, agreed with things she would usually argue against, and even started dressing differently, like she was trying to fit into some version of herself that wasn’t real.

The breaking point came when they all went out to another party, this time with a larger group. Oscar watched from a distance as Y/N and Jake mingled with people he didn’t recognize, her hand firmly in Jake’s as she introduced herself with an unfamiliar edge in her voice.

It wasn’t until someone asked how long she and Oscar had known each other that the real blow came.

“Oh, we’ve known each other for a while,” she said casually, almost dismissively, as if they weren’t best friends who had shared everything.

Oscar’s heart clenched painfully. He stood just a few feet away, and it felt like he’d been slapped in the face. A while? That was all she had to say about him? The countless nights they had spent talking until sunrise, the secrets they had shared, the times they had been there for each other through thick and thin—all reduced to “a while.”

For the rest of their time together, Oscar felt like a ghost, present but unseen, and the realization that Y/N barely noticed was what hurt the most. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when it was far from it. He couldn’t stand it any longer. “I’m heading out,” he muttered to no one in particular, but Y/N didn’t even notice as he slipped out the door.

Later that night, Y/N texted him, asking if he got home okay. There was no apology, no acknowledgment of how she had brushed him aside. Just a casual check-in that felt more like an afterthought.

Oscar stared at the message, feeling a deep sadness settle in his chest. He had always known that Y/N was special to him, that she held a place in his heart no one else could ever fill. But now, he was starting to realize that she didn’t see him the same way—not anymore.

Maybe she never did, he thought bitterly, tossing his phone aside and sinking into bed, the weight of her neglect pressing down on him like a lead blanket. Maybe I’ve just been fooling myself this whole time.

end of flashback

And Oscar… he was hurting.

One evening, Y/N burst into Oscar's apartment with her usual energy. “Osc, you won’t believe it! We’re going on another date tonight—he’s taking me to this really cute café downtown!” Her voice was full of excitement, but Oscar barely heard her.

He was curled up on the couch, a familiar spot that once felt warm with her presence now felt cold and empty.

“That’s great,” he mumbled, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm.

She frowned, finally noticing the difference. “What’s wrong? You’ve been weird lately.”

Oscar wanted to say it. He wanted to shout that he was tired of being pushed aside, tired of being the second choice. But instead, he just shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Y/N wasn’t convinced. She moved closer, sitting beside him. “Oscar, talk to me. Please.”

Oscar looked at her, really looked at her, and felt his heart shatter a little more. He was losing her, and the worst part was that she didn’t even realize it. “I miss you,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N blinked, surprised. “I’m right here, O.”

“No, you’re not,” he replied, his tone sharper now. “You’ve been so wrapped up in your new relationship that I’ve barely seen you. You’re always with him, talking about him. And I… I’m just here, waiting for you to remember me.”

She frowned, her face softening as she reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away. “Oscar, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Of course you didn’t,” he interrupted, his frustration boiling over. “You didn’t realize because you’re happy, and I’m just… I’m just the friend who’ll always be there, right? The one you can ignore until you need him.”

Her eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. “That’s not true, Oscar. You know you mean everything to me.”

“Do I?” he challenged, standing up and pacing the room. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, Y/N. It feels like I’m losing you, and it’s killing me.”

The air between them grew thick with tension, the kind that had never existed before. Y/N stood up too, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to reach out to him again. “Oscar, please don’t do this. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve already left me?” he snapped, his voice breaking. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his emotions in check but failing miserably. “You don’t get it, Y/N. You have no idea how much this hurts.”

“Then tell me!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!”

Oscar froze, the words caught in his throat. This was it. This was the moment he could tell her everything, but he couldn’t find the courage. Instead, he just shook his head, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Oscar, please don’t say that,” she whispered, stepping closer to him, but he stepped back, creating a distance between them that felt like miles.

“I love you,” he blurted out, his voice trembling. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ve tried to bury it, to just be your friend, but I can’t anymore. I can’t stand watching you with someone else. It’s killing me, Y/N.”

Her breath hitched, her eyes wide with shock. “Oscar… I… I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” he said bitterly, wiping away a tear that had escaped. “You didn’t know because I never told you. But now… now it’s too late. You’re with him, and I’m just… I’m nothing.”

Oscar’s voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt as he stared at Y/N, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had tried to hold it in for so long, but the weight of her neglect was too much to bear, and now, it was all spilling out.

“You know, Y/N, I get that you’re excited about Jake. I really do. But do you even realize what you’ve been doing? Or should I say, what you haven’t been doing?” His voice was laced with bitterness, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Oscar, what are you talking about? I’ve just been—”

“No, don’t,” he cut her off sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare try to brush this off like it’s nothing. You’ve been so wrapped up in your new relationship that you’ve completely forgotten about me. About us. Do you even remember the last time we had an actual conversation that wasn’t interrupted by you checking your phone? Or the last time we made plans that you didn’t cancel for Jake?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She was struggling to process the raw emotion pouring out of him.

Oscar continued, his voice rising as the frustration he had been holding back for weeks finally broke free. “I’ve been your best friend for how long now? I’ve always been there for you, always. But ever since you started dating him, it’s like I don’t even exist anymore. You barely text me back, you cancel on me all the time, and when we do hang out, it’s like you’re not even here.”

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers, pleading for her to understand. “Do you have any idea how that feels? To go from being someone’s everything to feeling like you’re just… nothing? Like you’re just a placeholder until something better comes along?”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but Oscar was too caught up in his own pain to notice. “I get that things change when you start dating someone, but you didn’t just change—you fucking disappeared. And I’m left here, trying to figure out where the hell my best friend went. The person I could always count on, who knew me better than anyone… she’s gone.”

His voice cracked, the anger giving way to the deep hurt he had been carrying. “And you know what’s worse? I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. But I was too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to mess things up. I didn’t want to lose you. But now… it feels like I’ve lost you anyway.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never seen Oscar like this, so raw and vulnerable, and it terrified her.

“I tried to be happy for you,” Oscar continued, his voice quieter now, filled with a deep sadness. “I tried to convince myself that I could just be your friend and that would be enough. But it’s not enough, Y/N. Not when you treat me like I’m nothing.”

He looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. “I thought I meant more to you than this. I thought we meant more. But maybe I was wrong.”

Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight of him, at the pain in his eyes. She reached out to him, desperate to hold him, to comfort him, but he pulled away again, shaking his head.

“I can’t be around you right now,” Oscar said, his voice broken. “I need time… I need to figure out how to stop loving you.”

“Oscar, please don’t go,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “We can talk about this—”

But Oscar had already turned away, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I can’t.”

With that, he left, leaving Y/N standing in the middle of the room, her heart aching with the weight of what had just happened. She sank to the floor, sobs wracking her body as she realized that the one person she needed most was the one she had pushed away.

And Oscar, driving aimlessly through the city, felt more alone than he ever had in his entire life, knowing that he had finally spoken his truth, but at what cost?

time skip

Y/N was left alone in the apartment, her mind reeling from everything Oscar had said. As the door slammed shut behind him, she crumpled to the floor, her chest tightening with an overwhelming sense of loss. The tears came in uncontrollable waves, each sob tearing through her as she gasped for breath.

How did I not see this? she thought, her mind racing. How could I be so blind?

She buried her face in her hands, the memories flooding back—every moment they had shared, every laugh, every hug, every time Oscar had been there for her, and she had taken it all for granted. They played like a cruel montage in her mind, the pieces finally falling into place.

I’ve always loved him, she realized, the truth hitting her like a punch to the gut. But I was too scared… too scared of losing him, of ruining everything.

She thought back to every time they had cuddled on the couch, his arms wrapped around her, making her feel safe and warm. She had always known there was something more between them, something unspoken, but she had pushed it down, terrified of what it would mean if she acknowledged it. Because if I lost Oscar… I’d lose everything.

Her phone was in her hand before she even realized it, her fingers trembling as she dialed his number. Each ring felt like an eternity, the silence on the other end growing heavier with every passing second.

Voicemail.

“Hey, this is Oscar. I'm probably driving really fast or I'm not in the mood. Anyway I’ll get back to you.”

The beep echoed in her ears, and she quickly hung up, her heart pounding as panic set in. She dialed again, desperately hoping he would pick up this time, that she could tell him everything she was feeling before it was too late. But once again, it went to voicemail.

“Oscar, please,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking as she redialed, only to be met with the same message. Each time the voicemail beeped, she hung up, feeling the hope drain out of her.

Finally, after the fifth failed attempt, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The voicemail beeped, and she began to speak, her voice thick with tears.

“Oscar, it’s me. Please, please, just listen to this… I—I’m so sorry,” she started, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it, sorry I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I’ve been so selfish, so blind, and I didn’t even notice what I was doing to you.”

She paused, trying to steady her breathing, but the tears kept coming. “I… I’m terrified, Oscar. I’ve always been terrified of losing you, of messing this up, of losing the best thing in my life. And that’s why I never… I never let myself feel what I was feeling. I thought if I pretended it wasn’t there, we could stay the same forever.”

Her voice cracked as she continued, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “But I do love you, Oscar. I love you so much it hurts. And the thought of losing you… of you walking out of my life… I can’t bear it. I was so scared that if I admitted how I felt, everything would change, and I’d lose you forever. But now I realize… I was losing you anyway.”

She choked on a sob, pressing a hand to her mouth as she tried to hold herself together. “Please, Oscar, don’t shut me out. I know I messed up, I know I hurt you, but I need you to know that you mean everything to me. You always have. And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, that I didn’t see it until now.”

Y/N wiped at her tears, her voice trembling as she spoke the final words. “Please, Oscar, don’t walk away. I love you… I love you so much, and I’m begging you to give me a chance to make this right. Please… please don’t leave me.”

The message ended, the silence that followed felt deafening. Y/N let the phone slip from her hand, her body shaking with sobs as she curled up on the floor, consumed by the fear that it might be too late, that she might have lost him for good.

Please, Oscar, come back to me.

time skip

Oscar sat on a bench near the parking lot, his car parked a few meters away. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. His heart felt heavy, his mind spinning with everything that had just happened. He didn’t know where to go, or what to do, so he just sat there, staring blankly into the distance, replaying their fight over and over again in his mind.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking through his thoughts. He pulled it out, seeing Y/N’s name flash on the screen with a voicemail notification. His thumb hovered over the play button for a moment, hesitant. Part of him didn’t want to hear what she had to say, afraid it would only hurt him more. But another part, the part that had loved her for so long, needed to know.

With a deep breath, he pressed play.

As Y/N’s voice filled the air, raw with emotion and thick with tears, Oscar’s heart clenched. Each word she spoke was like a dagger, cutting deeper into the hurt he was already feeling, but there was something else too—something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“I… I’m terrified, Oscar. I’ve always been terrified of losing you, of messing this up, of losing the best thing in my life. And that’s why I never… I never let myself feel what I was feeling. I thought if I pretended it wasn’t there, we could stay the same forever.”

He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. He could hear the desperation in her voice, the regret, the love she had been too scared to admit. It mirrored everything he had felt for so long, everything he had been too afraid to say.

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as the message continued, her confession unfolding in a way he had never imagined but had always longed for. The voicemail ended with her pleading, the words echoing in his mind, “Please, Oscar, don’t walk away. I love you… I love you so much, and I’m begging you to give me a chance to make this right. Please… please don’t leave me.”

He sat there, stunned, the silence that followed almost unbearable. He played the message again, needing to hear it one more time to believe it was real. As Y/N’s voice replayed, full of vulnerability and love, something shifted inside him. The anger he had felt earlier began to melt away, replaced by a deep, aching love that had never gone away.

Just as the message ended for the second time, Oscar became aware of a presence behind him. He turned around slowly and saw Y/N standing a few feet away, her face pale and tear-streaked, her eyes wide with uncertainty. She must have found him while he was listening to the voicemail, and now she stood there, silent, waiting.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The weight of the situation hung between them, both of them trying to process what had just happened. Finally, Oscar broke the silence, his voice soft and tentative.

“You… you really mean that?” he asked, his gaze locking onto hers, searching for any sign that this was all some kind of cruel joke.

Y/N nodded, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Every word, Oscar. I mean it. I’ve been so scared of ruining what we had that I didn’t realize I was ruining it by pushing you away. But I do love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I’m so, so sorry it took me this long to realize it.”

Oscar stood up, taking a hesitant step toward her. “I didn’t want to lose you either,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought if I kept my feelings to myself, we could just keep going the way we were. But it was killing me, Y/N. Watching you with Jake… it felt like I was losing you, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, stepping closer until they were just inches apart. “You were never going to lose me, Oscar. You’re my best friend, and you always will be. But… I want more than that. I need more than that. I love you, and I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

Oscar’s eyes softened, the pain of the past weeks slowly fading as he looked at her, really looked at her, and saw everything he had ever wanted. “Of course I’ll have you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve wanted that for so long, Y/N. I love you too, more than anything. I just… I didn’t think you felt the same.”

She smiled through her tears, reaching out to take his hand. “I do, Oscar. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it, to admit it. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Oscar pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if he was afraid she might slip away if he let go. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered into her hair, his voice filled with relief and love.

“You won’t,” Y/N whispered back, burying her face in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Oscar. I’m right here, and I’m not letting you go.”

They stood there in the quiet night, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of unspoken words finally lifted. It wasn’t going to be easy, but they had each other, and that was all that mattered. In that moment, they both knew they had found something worth fighting for, something that had always been there, waiting for them to finally see it.

817 notes · View notes

theonottsbxtch · 14 hours ago

Text

MY KINDA CRAZY | LN4

an: i was listening to do re mi by blackbear and i was just thinking about the concept of lando dating a driver who is just straight up insane but that's their dynamic.

wc: 3.4k

Lando was lounging in his gaming chair, half-focused on his Quadrant stream, when he heard the sound of glass shattering in the distance. His gaze flickered, eyebrows furrowing as the noise registered. He glanced toward his mates on-screen, catching a few laughs over the headset.

“What was that?” Max asked.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned back, glancing over his shoulder toward the window. “Hang on a sec.” He muted his mic, got up and moved toward the source of the commotion.

He reached the edge of the window and peered outside—and there she was, standing beside his brand new black Ferrari, one of his precious golf clubs in hand, bringing it down on the windscreen with a satisfying crack. She looked wild-eyed, fearless, like she belonged right there, shattering his world with a smirk on her face.

He didn’t even have to look at the monitor to know his friends were watching his expression. After a pause, he unmuted the mic. “Uh, guys,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll be back in five.”

“Is that…?” Steven started. The rest fell into stunned silence, disbelief etched across their voices as he nodded, trying to suppress a grin.

“Bro, are you serious? You need to cut her off,” he heard Ethan say, as the sound of glass crunched through his headset again. They’re trying to talk him out of it, telling him how crazy this is, how she’s crazy. But he knows the truth—that they’re just as bad as each other, and he can’t imagine it any other way.

“I got it handled,” he assured them, already making his way downstairs.

Lando stepped into the lobby, where the apartment security guards were trying—without much success—to talk her down. One of them looked up at him, relief flashing across his face. “Sir, do you want us to call the police? We’ll get her to leave.”

But he just shook his head, giving them a grin. “Nah. I’ll deal with her.”

Striding out, he reached her, catching her wrist just as she raised the golf club for another swing. She froze, looking up at him, and he could see the fire in her eyes, the way she was daring him to react.

He just grinned, leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath brush her cheek. Without breaking eye contact, he wrapped an arm around her waist and, in one swift motion, lifted her up and slinged her over his shoulder. She let out a yelp, then an indignant laugh, smacking his back with the flat of her hand.

“Put me down, you cunt!” she demanded, but there was a thrill in her voice he knew too well.

“Are you done having your moment, sweetheart?” Lando murmured, a teasing edge in his tone. He could feel her bristle, and could almost hear the smirk in her voice when she muttered, “Maybe.”

As he walked back inside, her breathless laughter filling the air, he slid his hand up the back of her thigh, just to hear her gasp. She wriggled against his shoulder, trying to hide the way her body was reacting, but he felt it—felt her melt under his touch, even as she clung to her defiance.

Once they were back inside, he let her down slowly, pressing her back against the wall. She glared up at him, but it was a look laced with something darker, something that has his pulse thrumming. He caged her in with his arms, leaning close enough to feel the heat radiating off her.

“You really thought that was gonna get a reaction out of me?” he murmured, voice low, teasing. She smirked, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Oh, it got a reaction,” she whispered, her fingers sliding down to his belt, tugging him closer.

For a moment, there was just the sound of their breaths, mingling in the charged air between them. Then he closed the gap, capturing her lips in a kiss that was hard and demanding, like they were daring each other to go further. She kissed him back fiercely, her hands twisting into his shirt, holding him as close as possible.

When they broke apart, breathless, he pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Next time, try not to break the Ferrari.”

She grinned, unrepentant. “Can’t make any promises.”

She stepped through the bathroom door, expecting things to be exactly where she left them. Instead, her eyes widen as she notices the vanity—completely empty, wiped clean. Her makeup, all of it, is gone.

She dropped her phone on the floor, her jaw tightening as she stormed through the apartment, finally finding Lando lounging on the sofa, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothing’s amiss.

“You didn’t,” she hissed, fists clenched at her sides. Lando looked up slowly, meeting her glare with an infuriatingly calm expression, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I did,” he said, tossing his phone aside and stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. “Figured you might like a fresh start. Maybe if you didn’t wear all that makeup, you wouldn’t be getting so much attention.”

Her hands balled into fists, but she didn’t look away. He watched the spark ignite in her eyes, that unmistakable fire that was both thrilling and a little dangerous. She took a slow step toward him, a mocking smile spreading across her face.

“You’re insane,” she said, voice low and deadly, but he only grinned, watching her like he was daring her to do something about it.

“Yeah?” Lando replied, leaning back and looking her over with a smirk. “But you go wild for it.”

She stalked closer, moving to stand over him, her hands braced on either side of his shoulders, forcing him to look up at her. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “That was my stuff, and you don’t get to decide what I wear.”

He let out a low laugh, his gaze unwavering as he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering just a bit too long. “Then stop trying to get my attention by looking at every other guy,” he murmured, his voice soft but dangerous, his hand trailing down the side of her face, fingers brushing along her jawline.

“You think I’m looking at anyone else?” she breathed, leaning in close enough that her lips grazed his, teasing. Her hands slid up his chest, clutching his shirt as she lowered herself to straddle him, trapping him in place. “Trust me, sweetheart, when I want someone’s attention, I get it.”

Lando felt her heartbeat against his chest, fast and unsteady, betraying the anger simmering just under the surface. He grinned, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush together. His voice dropped down to a whisper, low and possessive. “Then prove it.”

She didn’t hesitate, her mouth crashing into his, all sharp teeth and rough edges, like she was determined to make him regret it. He returned the kiss with equal intensity, his grip tightening as he pulled her in deeper, like he was staking his own claim. They were tangled together, her hands gripping his hair as he pressed her closer, their breaths mingling in a haze of frustration and heat.

When they finally pulled back, gasping for air, Lando smirked, brushing his thumb over her swollen lip. “See? Much better.”

When Lando walked in, the first thing he noticed was a mess of fabric strewn across the floor of the living room. The second? That familiar, smug defiance hanging in the air. His designer shirts—one after another—were lying in a pile, each one sliced clean through.

He let out a low, dark laugh, shaking his head as he picked up a piece of ruined silk. Of course she did this. Of course.

He followed the trail of destruction down the hall, where he found her sprawled on their bed, scrolling through her phone as if nothing was out of the ordinary. In her other hand, she was twirling a pair of scissors, the blade glinting as it caught the light.

He cleared his throat, and she glanced up, that innocent look in her eyes that he knew all too well. It was the look she gave right before she said something that’ll push every one of his buttons.

“Something wrong?” she asked, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied little smirk.

He stepped closer, holding up the tattered remains of one of his favourite shirts. “Oh, nothing,” he drawled, letting the fabric slip from his fingers. “Just wondering if you’ve got something you want to say.”

She gave a nonchalant shrug, returning her attention to her phone as she flicked through it lazily. “Thought I’d free up some space in your wardrobe. You never seemed to like those shirts anyway.”

He chuckled, watching her with narrowed eyes as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed, close enough that she had to look up at him. “And what if I told you that those were my favourites?” he murmured, reaching out to take the scissors from her hand, his fingers brushing her skin just a moment too long.

She tilted her head, her smirk widening as she let him take the scissors, her eyes flicking to his with that bold, unyielding spark he can never resist. “Then maybe you should take better care of your things,” she said, voice low and sweet, laced with mock innocence.

He let out another laugh, setting the scissors aside, his hand lingering on her thigh as he leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath hitch. “And what am I supposed to do with you, hmm?” he asked, his fingers brushing slowly up her leg, tracing light circles that sent a shiver through her.

She raised her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging glint. “Maybe you should take better care of your things,” she said again, her tone daring him to react. Her fingers trail up his chest, her touch feather-light, barely there, but enough to send heat coursing through him.

“Careful,” he whispered, voice dropping as he moved his hand up to cup her face, his thumb tracing along her cheek. “Keep this up, and I might have to show you what happens when you mess around this much, sweetheart.”

She leaned into his touch, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

She was exhausted, every muscle aching as she finally made it back to their apartment building after a gruelling day of training, it was hard to keep up with Max sometimes. She was only thinking about a hot shower and maybe collapsing into bed, but when she slid her keycard into the lock, nothing happened. She tried again, frowning as she heard the familiar beep and saw the small red light flash, denying her access.

Frustrated, she let out a sigh and looked up, only to see Lando standing by the window on the second floor, leaning casually against the frame with a smirk stretched across his face.

“You trying to come in?” he called down, amusement glinting in his eyes as he watched her wrestle with the lock.

Her jaw tightens. She raises her voice, letting her irritation show. “Open the door, or I swear I’ll—”

He just laughed, leaning out of the window, entirely unbothered. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I had to revoke your access. Apartment is under my name, after all.” He paused, tilting his head as he looked her over, clearly savouring her frustration. “It’s just... you’ve been taking a few too many liberties lately.”

She scoffed, storming toward the front desk, where the concierge looked up, shifting uncomfortably as she approached.

“Can you open the door?” she demanded, her voice sharp with exhaustion and irritation.

The concierge frowned apologetically. “I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Norris" he hesitated, glancing up toward the smirking man in the window— “he’s requested that your access be restricted. I can’t let you in without his permission.”

Her fists clench at her sides, and she looks back up at him, glaring. He was still leaning against the window, arms folded, watching her with that smug, insufferable grin. She was just about ready to give him a piece of her mind when he called down, his voice lazy and laced with amusement.

“You know,” Lando said, “there’s a way you could get in. Just gotta say the magic word.”

She narrowed her eyes, arms crossing as she stared up at him. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Oh, come on.” He shrugged, feigning innocence. “A little begging never hurt anyone.” He grinned, tilting his head mockingly. “Or are you too proud? Red Bull’s Princess can’t say please?”

She bit back a retort, anger simmering under her skin. But the day had worn her down, and the idea of spending the night locked out was even worse than giving him what he wanted. She let out a sigh, glaring at him with a look that could kill.

“Please,” she said, voice strained, her jaw clenched tightly.

He cupped a hand to his ear, grinning wider. “Didn’t quite hear that.”

She let out a frustrated growl, swallowing her pride as she raised her voice, forcing herself to repeat it. “I said, please,” she grit out, hating every second.

But Lando only shook his head, laughing softly to himself. “Not quite enough, darling. You’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”

Her eyes narrowed, fury blazing in her gaze as she glanced around, making sure no one else beside the concierge was listening before she took a deep breath. She fixed him with a look, voice dropping lower, softer. “Please… let me in.”

For a moment, he just watched her, savouring every word, every hint of frustration in her eyes. And then, finally, he relented, nodding to the concierge with a satisfied smirk.

The door unlocks, and she strode in, tossing one last glare up toward him as she headed up to their apartment, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the wake of her frustration.

When she reached the door, he was waiting there, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, still looking far too amused for her liking. She stormed past him, but he caught her wrist, stopping her just before she could slip away.

“Glad to see you can be reasonable,” he murmured, his voice low, laced with amusement as he pulled her closer.

She rolled her eyes, tugging her hand free, but he didn't let her go, his grip firm, challenging her as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t push it,” she muttered, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips, her irritation melting into something warmer as he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

“Oh, I plan to,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple, savouring the way her resistance softens, just a little, under his touch.

Lando was out at the bar with Max, Charles and Oscar, a half-empty glass in his hand, when his phone buzzed on the table. Glancing down, he noticed it was his bank calling. He frowned, picking it up with a raised eyebrow.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sir, this is a courtesy call from Credit Mutuel. We just wanted to confirm a recent transaction—3,600 Euros from Versace? We wanted to make sure it was authorised.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, immediately picturing her wandering through the store, swiping his card without a second thought. Of course, she would do that.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he said, trying to hide his amusement. “Go ahead and approve it.”

He ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket, just as his friends gave him questioning looks. Charles leaned in, a grin already spreading across his face. “3.6K at Versace? Who’s racking up that kind of charge?”

He shrugged, smirking as he picked up his drink. “My girl. Guess she decided to go shopping.”

They exchanged looks, half-amused, half-incredulous. Max whistled low, shaking his head. “You’ve gotta be kidding. She’s really that bold?”

“Bold?” Oscar chimed in with a laugh. “She’s insane. You really need to put a stop to that.”

He just raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “What, and miss out on all the fun?”

“Man, she’s gonna drain you dry,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “You need to cut her off.”

He took another sip of his drink, the thought not even crossing his mind. “Nah. She’s my type of crazy.”

They all looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but he didn't care. She kept him on his toes, always a little unpredictable, a little wild—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re out of your mind, man,” Max said, chuckling. “No one’s worth that kind of chaos.”

“She’s your teammate, put respect on her name.” Lando quipped, his voice light but a slight bit of truth to it.

“Teammate or not. Kelly spent 3k in Versace? I'm asking her dad to pay me back.”

He just laughed, his gaze drifting toward the door as if he half expected her to show up, Versace bags in hand and that signature defiant look on her face. “Eh this is what keeps it interesting.”

Hope you bought something nice for me to rip off tonight x

The Singapore night lights gleam across the track as the roar of the crowd echoed through the air. Lando managed to bring the car to first place. It was a win that put him further ahead in the World Drivers' Championship—closer to clinching the title that both she and him were battling for. She’d just come in third, and he knew she’d be furious about the gap widening, about him taking both the sprint and the race.

He was basking in his victory, the top step of the podium all his, the adrenaline still coursing through him, as he turned to celebrate with the other two drivers on the podium. But he couldn't ignore the tension in the air. She was standing just a few feet away, third place still sitting uncomfortably on her shoulders, the gap between them widening with each race.

Her jaw tightened as she grabbed a bottle of champagne, shaking it quickly in her hand, she slammed it on the top step of his podium, his signature celebration. And she watched.

She watched as it hit his trophy, knocking it from the podium. The silver gleamed for a split second before it crashed to the ground, the base shattering in a shower of sparkling fragments.

She stood there, blinking for a moment, watching as the trophy’s broken pieces settled at their feet, her champagne bottle still in hand, the remnants of the cork still floating in the air like confetti. Slowly, she turned her eyes to him, that familiar, defiant glint sparking in her gaze.

“Whoops?” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as if she couldn’t care less about the broken trophy—or the effect it’s had on him.

He stood there for a moment, shock flashing across his face. But it was quickly replaced with a grin. He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

Without thinking twice, he stepped off his podium, the world blurring around him as he strides over to her. Her eyes widened in surprise as he reached out, his hand slipping under her jaw, tilting her face up to his. For a heartbeat, the noise of the crowd faded, the lights dimmed, and it was just the two of them locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then, before she could react, he pulled her in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was both possessive and challenging, a reminder of the victory that was still fresh on his lips. She was stiff at first, her fists clenching by her sides, every bit of her resistance radiating through her. But then, just as he was about to pull away, her grip relaxed. She let out a shaky breath against his lips, and suddenly she was kissing him back, just as fierce, just as unapologetic.

The world erupted around them in a chaotic mix of cheers and gasps, but they were lost in the heat between them. Charles, grinning like he was witnessing the best drama of the year, stepped forward with his bottle and sprayed them both, champagne splashing across their faces, soaking their race suits.

They broke apart, gasping for air, champagne dripping down their faces, but neither of them stepped back. He was grinning, that familiar arrogant smirk, knowing he had pushed her, made her break her carefully guarded composure right in front of everyone.

“You’re still behind, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Better step it up.”

She narrowed her eyes, her lips twisting into a smirk of her own. “Keep pushing your luck,” she replied, voice dripping with challenge. “I’ll catch you sooner than you think.”

He let out a quiet laugh, raising his champagne bottle in a mock toast. “Looking forward to it.”

She was standing in front of the press, still in her race suit, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as the interviewer approached her, mic in hand. The buzz in the room was all too familiar—she’d been the talk of the circuit all season, and tonight, after the “accidental” destruction of his trophy, they were all eager to get her take on it.

“So,” the interviewer started, grinning as he raised an eyebrow, “quite the, uh, performance on the podium. How are you feeling about, well… breaking Lando’s trophy?”

She shrugged, her expression as cool and collected as ever. “Not my trophy, not my problem,” she replied, smirking as a few people in the crowd let out quiet chuckles.

The interviewer laughed, but he was clearly fishing for more. “Rumour has it that he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Are you worried there might be… consequences?”

Her smirk widens, and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she leaned just a bit closer to the mic. “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll just get punished at home,” she said, her voice dropping to a playful whisper as she glanced directly at the camera. “If you get what I mean.”

The reaction was immediate—the interviewer’s eyes widened, the crowd let out a collective gasp, and the director frantically signalled for the camera to cut the feed. But before they manage to turn it off, her laugh echoed through the speakers, rich and unapologetic, leaving the whole room buzzing with her brazen, unfiltered confidence.

As the screen went black, she tossed the mic back to the interviewer with a wink, giving the camera one last look before she strutted off, knowing she’d left them with more questions than answers—and loving every second of it.

the end.

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faithshouseofchaos · 1 day ago

Text

Leaving it all Behind (LIAB ) series

The wedding— max verstappen x reader

Leaving it all behind one shot part one

Word count — 755

Fluff

The small chapel was nestled along a quiet stretch of countryside, the kind of place Y/N had always dreamed of for her wedding. Sunlight poured in through the tall, arched windows, casting warm patterns over the wooden pews and filling the room with a gentle glow. Outside, fields of wildflowers swayed in the breeze, the perfect backdrop for the intimate ceremony they had planned—a celebration of love, free from the weight of the past.

Max stood at the front, dressed in a simple black suit, his hands clasped in front of him as he waited. There was a subtle nervousness in his eyes, but the moment he saw Y/N step into the chapel, it melted away. She was radiant, her dress flowing gracefully around her as she walked down the aisle, a bouquet of wildflowers in her hands, her smile bright and unwavering. In that moment, Max felt his entire world shift, as if everything he’d endured had led him here, to this moment.

The few friends and family they’d invited rose from their seats, smiles lighting their faces as Y/N reached him. She looked up at him, her gaze soft and full of unspoken promises, and he felt an overwhelming sense of peace—a feeling he never thought he’d find.

As the officiant began, Max could barely focus on the words. All he could see was Y/N, her hand in his, her warmth grounding him. When it came time for their vows, he spoke first, his voice steady but thick with emotion.

“Y/N,” he began, a small, almost shy smile pulling at his lips. “I’ve spent so much of my life fighting… trying to prove something to myself, to others. But you… you’re the one who showed me that I don’t need to fight anymore. With you, I’ve found peace, and I promise to spend the rest of my life protecting the love we have.”

He felt her hand tighten in his, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she mouthed, “I love you.”

When she began her vows, her voice was barely above a whisper, but each word was filled with conviction. “Max, I didn’t expect you to come into my life the way you did. But from the moment you saved me, I knew I’d never be alone again. You’ve given me strength and a love I never knew I needed. I promise to stand by you, through everything, and to love you with my whole heart… for all the days we have.”

As the officiant pronounced them husband and wife, Max leaned in, brushing his lips against hers in a soft, reverent kiss. Their friends and family clapped and cheered, but for Max and Y/N, the world had fallen away. In that moment, it was just the two of them, bound together by a love that had defied the odds.

A Celebration with Friends and Family

After the ceremony, they moved outside, where a small, simple reception had been set up under the open sky. A string of fairy lights hung from the trees, casting a warm glow as evening approached. Friends laughed, music played softly, and Max felt a lightness he’d never known.

They shared their first dance under the stars, holding each other close as the music played. Max’s hands rested on Y/N’s waist, his forehead pressed gently against hers. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a joy that made his heart ache.

“We did it,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Max nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “We did. And I’m never letting go.”

As they danced, he caught sight of his closest friends watching, their faces beaming with pride. Even Leo, who’d been skeptical of Max’s choices at first, was there, clapping along with the music, his expression softening as he watched the newlyweds.

Later, as the evening wore on, Max and Y/N slipped away from the reception for a quiet moment alone. They walked hand in hand to a hill overlooking the field, the stars above shining brightly. Max wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as they looked out over their celebration below.

“Think we’ll still be this happy in fifty years?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining. “I know we will.”

And as they stood there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, Max knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, he’d found his forever.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula one x you #f1 x y/n #faiths inboxes📥📨#formula one x oc #formula one x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine

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tpwk-formula1 · 2 months ago

Note

Can I order

Ollie Bearman- Thin crust,red sauce,roasted mushrooms,bacon,pineapple with sprite,truly and Diet Coke with no dessert please💕

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex roasted mushroom “Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy” bacon "What would your brother think if he caught us" pineapple "Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" sprite size kink truly belly bulge diet coke recording kink dessert no served by Ollie Bearman

Ollie x Antonelli! reader

TW - squirting, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, fingering, unprotected sex, filming the act, belly bulge, size kink

WC 1900+

Y/N POV

"Kimi, can I talk to you?" I ask after finally finding my twin brother hiding in the Mercedes garage getting away from all the media.

"What's up?" Kimi asks putting his phone down and giving me his full attention.

"So, you're probably gonna be mad but you cannot make a fucking scene," I tell Kimi making him sit up taller and stare at me with an unreadable face.

"Go on, I make zero promises," Kimi says making my pulse rise a bit.

"So, Ollie and I are dating," I say while giving Kimi a sarcastic smile knowing he wasn't happy the second the words left my mouth.

"Oh, I'm gonna fucking kill that giraffe," Kimi said while standing up and shoving past me.

"Kimi, we are in the fucking paddock keep it professional," I say while pulling his arm back slightly but he was on a mission that left me scrambling to follow him.

"Kimi, stop," I say again pulling him back a bit harder. This time Kimi stopped and looked at me with pure anger flashing in his eyes.

"Are you fucking serious right now? You planned this shit to tell me here in public so I couldn't blow up on either of you, but news flash, I dont care," Kimi said turning on his foot and marching towards the Ferrari garage.

We didn't even make it to the garage when we see Ollie pop out smiling and talking to one of the engineers when he spots both of the Antonelli twins approaching him. One radiating anger and the other radiating stress while still giving off a fake smile.

Ollie picked up on the signs and instantly popped back into the garage trying to get away before the much shorter boy reached him.

"No, Oliver Bearman get out here, I just want to talk," Kimi says. I'm shocked to find Ollie actually turning on his foot and coming back outside to stand in the middle of the pit area.

"How can I help you?" Ollie asks trying to mask his fear.

"Oh cut the shit, you and my fucking sister?" Kimi asks trying to keep his volume down but failing with how angry he is.

"Okay, before a full-out brawl occurs I think you guys need to take this into the garage," Fred says coming out of nowhere but quickly ushering the three of us into the Ferrari garage and into an unoccupied room before leaving the three of us to hash out our difference.

"Look Kimi, it's new, and I care a lot about your sister, I'm not in the business of hurting her," Ollie tells Kimi seriously. I can see a very perplexed look flash in Kimi's eyes before I watch his body physically relax.

"How long?" Is all Kimi asks sharply.

"Little over a month, it's new and we wanted to make sure it was gonna be more long term before telling anyone. You're the first person we are telling and I'm sorry if I did it in public I just knew you would flip shit... and I was right," I reply back softly. I can feel Ollie's hand brushing my back showing me that he is still there supporting me but keeping it respectful in front of my brother.

"Please, don't hurt her. I will run your ass off the track every single race if you do," Kimi finally speaks up making me smile and softly pull him in for a hug.

"It's gonna take time to get used to this shit, but I'm not gonna make you guys split or anything, but don't do weird shit in front of me," Kimi tells us making both Ollie and I smile.

"Deal, and thank you," I tell him softly.

We all leave the room and Kimi and I go back to the Mercedes garage where we spend the rest of the day talking and figuring out our plans for our upcoming vacation as well as sitting through boring Mercedes meetings.

"Hey, I'm gonna go see Ollie for a little bit and I should be back before dinner," I tell Kimi when we get back into our hotel happy to not have to be lying to him anymore.

Kimi just pulls a fake disgusted look before shooing me away.

When I get into Ollie's room I knock softly before I step in and pull him into my arms.

"Well that was interesting," I whisper making Ollie laugh and nod.

"He called you a giraffe," I tell Ollie making me laugh before looking down.

"He might be onto something," I joke when I realize how much I am having to strain my neck to look up at Ollie.

"I think you Antonelli's just don't know how to grow," Ollie said with a joking smirk written across his face.

"Oh shut up," I say not having anything to rebuttal him with.

I walk over to Ollie's bed noticing the the scattered clothes all around. Before climbing into his bed and making myself comfortable Ollie climbs onto the bed and into my space where he starts placing soft kisses across my jaw trailing to my lips where he pulls me in for a heated makeout session.

"I need you," Ollie whispers against my lips making me smirk slightly but agree anyway and pull Ollie in closer to keep the heated session going.

I can feel Ollie pulling off my tank top making me lift my arms and pull back to allow him to pull it off all the way and I make quick work of taking his shirt off leaving both of us bare from the top up given I wasn't wearing a bra.

"I love your pretty tits babe," Ollie mumbles against my neck before pulling in one of my hard nipples into his mouth making me gasp slightly.

"Not much there," I mumble which has Ollie lifting his hand and pinching my free nipple making me whimper slightly.

"Don't take about my favorite tits like that," he says while jokingly stroke them like they had feelings.

"Big apologies," I say with a joking eye roll. Ollie moves over to the nipple he had just pinched and starts sucking on it instantly making the sting go away and turn into pure pleasure.

"Fuck," I moan gripping into Ollie's hair pulling him closer needing him.

"Please," I beg wanting him inside me more than I want to continue the teasing. Even the begging doesn't cause Ollie just continues playing with my tits before finally unbottoning my shorts and pulling them down with my thong leaving me completely bare for Ollie to use.

"Fuck, so pretty baby," Ollie mumbles before he starts kissing down from my tits to where I needed him the most.

"Can we try something," I gasp when I feel a soft lick on my clit.

"Does it prevent me from eating this pussy right this moment?" Ollie questions clearly annoyed that I put a stop to his plans.

"No, I just wanna try filming ourselves," I tell him softly when I suddenly lose all of Ollie's warmth as he is across the room grabbing his phone and propping it up against the night stand to film our activites.

Once Ollie is back into the bed he makes quick work of pulling my clit into his mouth and sucking on it before he starts licking all around my pussy like a starved man.

"Fuck, best pussy ever," Ollie groans into my pulling makng me whine and moan when he sends a strong vibration through my clit just from him taking into my pussy.

"Ollie, so good!" I gasp when he slips two fingers into my pussy and searching for my G-spot which didn't take him long.

"What would your brother think if he caught us? Yo clenching around my fingers and my face burried in your soaked fold while you're begging for more," Ollie says with a smirk making me gasp at the mention of his best friend.

"He's fucking murder you in cold blood," I tell him which makes Ollie laugh lightly before he slaps my inner thigh making me jump slightly and gasp from the sting.

"Well then, be a good girl and don't get too loud, he's right next door," Ollie tells me before going right back into my pussy and teasing my clit with his tongue.

"Ollie, I'm so close," I moan while pushing his head deeper into my pussy and holding him there while he speeds up his fingers working on my G-spot helping bring me over the edge into a loud orgasm.

"Fuck, Ollie!" I scream out before covering my mouth and start cumming all over Ollie's face. Ollie's fingers leave my pussy wrapping both arms around my thigh and holding me in place while he helps ride my orgasm out. Once my orgasm has finished Ollie continues teasing my clit allowing for the overstimulation to sink in before he pulls away and instantly pulls his pants and boxers off before climbing between my thighs and sinking right into my cunt leaving no time for me to adjust.

"Look so pretty wrapped around my cock" Ollie mumbles while he starts thrusting his hips making me whine at how much he is stretching me out.

"Too big," I whine looking up at Ollie who has a proud smirk on his face while he concentrates on thrusting into my pussy at a consistent pace.

When I feel Ollie softly place his hand on my tummy and push down I scream out because he threw me into an unexpected squirting orgasm.

This doesn't stop Ollie from fucking into me but he does move his hand but continues staring at my tummy making me look down and notice the very noticeable bulge in my tummy.

I knew Ollie was big but seeing a bulge in my tummy that is clearly made by his dick was surprising.

“Fucking you so good you I can see myself in your tummy," Ollie says clearly loving it just as much as I loved it.

"Fuck, Ollie," I moan.

I feel Ollie reach his arm over to the nightstand where he picks up the phone and turns the camera towards me.

Ollie made sure to keep the camera focused on everything but makes sure to draw attention to his cock poking through my stomach where he softly pokes at his cock each time he thrust in making me whine.

"You gonna cum all over my cock again?" Ollie states more like a question before he pushes down on my tummy again while he makes sure to keep the camera focused.

"Fuck," I scream again while cumming all over Ollie's cock again making him pull out and cumming all over my tummy and cumming so hard some of it landed on my tits.

"Fuck," Ollie groans before ending the video and getting me a towel so he can clean his cum up.

When I hear my phone ring next to me I look at it and notice that it's Kimi calling.

"I think he might have caught us," I joke while showing Ollie who was calling. Ollie makes a fake oopsie smile truly not really caring. I ignore the call but quickly receive a text from Kimi that says "Hanging out my ass"

I just laugh and ignore him pulling Ollie in closer.

610 notes · View notes

cherry-leclerc · 2 months ago

Text

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by this !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him.

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often."

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?”

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters.

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t.

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones.

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body.

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver.

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower.

He’s just becoming— too real.

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his.

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush.

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble.

The start of the season is always tough.

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!��

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn.

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world.

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing.

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention.

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand.

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough.

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles.

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend?

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words.

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing.

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.”

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement.

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry.

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room.

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help.

Woah, are you feeling alright?

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.”

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright.

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from to you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you.

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter.

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek.

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little.

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration.

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you.

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground.

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open.

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver.

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace.

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.”

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?’ type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.”

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat.

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.”

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose.

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering.

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it.

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers.

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers.

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs.

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess.

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon.

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando.

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.”

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands.

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.”

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.”

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him.

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again.

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan.

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing.

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.”

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief.

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.”

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision.

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk.

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing.

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off.

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop.

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you?

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning.

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other.

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry.

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath.

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer.

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning.

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. “You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome.

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando.

You what?

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers.

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream.

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean.

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.”

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still.. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts.

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice.

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare me have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to.

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has.

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might.

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, does eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.”

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct.

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now.

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once.

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it.

It was never going to be you.

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues.

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt?

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend.

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing.

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you.

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded.

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you?

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks as tired as you are. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab.

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough.

But then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.”

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring.

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle.

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.”

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed me—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a sheepish laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes.

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly.

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes.

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock.

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it’ll continue for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place.

“What about me?”

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

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