#i only know f1 because of tiktok

[nouearth]

Have you you ever heard of lando Norris he’s a driver I think he’s super cute and I love his laugh

💌 : nahhh, i haven't! but he is cute!

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | orange theory

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @holycastles) : quiet moments where love is tested through the smallest acts because sometimes, peeling an orange says more than 'i love you.'

୨ৎ : genre : fluff & romance ୨ৎ : word count : 1214

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i love love love writing things based off of tik-tok trends, it's so sweet and cute >.< also i know these are super short but i think that it reallyyy captures their personalities :)

ʚ・max verstappen

you toss an orange at max during downtime and go, “peel this for me?”

he catches it mid-air, looks at you, deadpan. “what am i? your personal chef?”

you snort and walk away, not expecting anything. max doesn’t do sweet, right? not like that.

but a few minutes later, you find the orange sitting on the counter, peeled perfectly — skin discarded, slices arranged in a neat spiral.

you eye him across the room, arms folded. “did you peel this?” he shrugs without looking up from his phone. “was bored.”

you know better. max verstappen doesn’t get bored. he gets intentional.

the next day, he grabs one for himself — and another for you. doesn’t say a word. just peels both and hands one over like it’s routine.

when you try to thank him, he waves it off. “don’t get soft on me now.”

but when he catches you smiling, he smirks.

because of course he peeled it. of course he cares.

he just needs you to understand that his love isn’t loud — it’s in the quiet things. like protecting you from citrus juice and acting like it means nothing.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you barely get the words out, “can you peel this for me?”

and lewis is already taking the orange from your hand.

“no problem, babe.”

he sits beside you, cross-legged on the couch, and starts peeling it with careful fingers, chatting about his day while he removes the white pith piece by piece.

then he gets up, walks to the kitchen, and returns with it sliced.

“i thought we’d elevate the citrus experience.”

you stare at him, wide-eyed. “lewis, it’s an orange.”

“exactly,” he grins. “you deserve your fruit with style.”

he kisses your forehead, then curls up beside you as if he didn’t just turn a tiktok test into an act of service so soft it made your heart melt.

he never calls attention to it, but he always peels your oranges after that. leaves them in little containers when you’re busy. packs them in your bag before flights.

you never have to ask again. and you know why.

because lewis isn’t just your boyfriend — he’s the kind of person who peels oranges like he’s caring for your soul.

ʚ・george russell

george blinks down at the orange you placed in his lap like it’s a bomb. “…you want me to peel this?”

“yup,” you grin. “no knife allowed.”

he stares at it, then at you. “this is a trick, isn’t it?”

“nope. just love language stuff.”

he huffs but you can see the gears turning. within two minutes, he’s looked up the most efficient orange peeling methods on his phone and begins carefully creating what can only be described as citrus origami.

“george, you’re taking this too seriously.”

“incorrect. i’m taking you seriously.”

he finishes with a perfectly spiraled peel, hands you the orange like a gift, and raises his brows. “well? did i pass your little test?”

you bite into a slice and nod, stunned. “you aced it. definitely best in class.”

he beams and mutters something about how he’d like that on the record.

you find out later that he’s now obsessed with fruit prep. pineapples. mangoes. grapefruits. the works.

all because you handed him a single orange.

and george russell doesn’t do anything halfway, especially not love.

ʚ・carlos sainz

you hand carlos an orange and say, “can you peel this for me?”

he blinks. “are your hands broken?”

you give him a look. he gives you one back.

he sighs. “you’re doing one of your tiktok psychology things again, aren’t you?”

you say nothing. just smile sweetly and leave the room.

a few minutes later, you hear him mumbling in spanish, something like “why do i always fall for this nonsense…”

but sure enough, the orange is peeled. slices separated. a napkin even folded beside it.

you grin. “i knew you loved me.”

he points a finger. “i only did it because i didn’t want you making a mess.”

“sure,” you say, popping a slice in your mouth. “that’s the reason.”

the next day, you find two oranges in your lunch bag. peeled. packed. one labeled “for mi amor” with a heart.

carlos acts like he has no idea how they got there.

but when you thank him with a kiss on the cheek, he just hums and goes, “well… i do spoil you.”

and you both know the truth: he always will.

ʚ・charles leclerc

when you ask charles to peel an orange for you, he doesn’t even blink. “okay.”

you expected teasing. maybe a confused “why?” or at least a sarcastic comment.

but no, he just quietly takes it and starts peeling like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

halfway through, he looks up. “…wait. is this a test?”

you nearly choke laughing.

“oh my god. it’s one of those tiktoks, isn’t it?”

you nod. “so? did you pass?”

he pauses, holding out the perfectly peeled fruit. “i mean… it’s in one piece. that’s worth at least a b+.”

you take a slice and smile. “a+ for effort.”

charles keeps stealing glances at you the rest of the day.

that night, he casually places another peeled orange on your nightstand before bed.

no words. just soft fingers brushing yours as he hands it over.

and in the quiet, you realize this man would do anything for you.

even pass little love tests without realizing he was taking them.

ʚ・lando norris

“peel it yourself,” lando says immediately when you hand him the orange.

you pout. “fine. i just thought you loved me.”

he groans like you just kicked his puppy. “oh come on.”

you walk away.

ten minutes later, you hear him cursing softly in the kitchen.

“why is this so hard?! this peel is evil.”

he returns with a mangled, chaotic-looking orange and dramatically sets it in front of you.

“it’s done. don’t say i never do anything for you.”

you try to bite into a slice and get hit with the bitterness of leftover peel.

“you suck at this,” you laugh.

he grins and kisses your temple. “yeah, but i tried. and that counts.”

the next day, he hands you a pre-peeled orange in a ziploc bag like he’s been training for it.

he also printed a label that says “from your emotionally available boyfriend.”

progress.

ʚ・oscar piastri

when you hand oscar an orange and ask him to peel it, he gives you the driest look imaginable. “…why?”

“just do it,” you say, kicking your feet on the couch. “please?”

he doesn’t ask questions. just takes the orange and gets to work.

two minutes later, he hands it back, peeled clean, slices stacked neatly like a pinterest tutorial.

you raise a brow. “…that was suspiciously fast.”

he shrugs. “it’s not that hard.”

“you didn’t even ask why i wanted it peeled.”

“didn’t need to. you wanted it, i did it. simple.”

your heart actually stumbles.

later that night, he places another orange in your hands, already peeled, in a container, lid snapped on.

he doesn’t say anything. just walks off like it’s no big deal.

but you’re left there holding the container like he just proposed.

because when oscar piastri quietly decides to care about you he really means it.

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

[theonlyonesora]

Paddock Whispers

Max Verstappen x Reader

It had started with a single photo.

Blurry, yes—but undeniably you. Wrapped in Max’s oversized hoodie, hair up, sleepy-eyed and barefoot in the background of a now-deleted Instagram story from one of Red Bull’s junior mechanics. You’d been handing Max a mug of coffee, his hand low on your back, and the caption had read:

“GOAT treatment only 😤☕️”

Naturally, the internet had imploded.

By the time the next Grand Prix weekend rolled around, speculation was wildfire, crackling through social media, F1 TikTok, and every gossip account from Paris to Singapore.

Now, you stood just inside the paddock at Suzuka, badge lanyard swinging gently against your chest, sun warming your shoulders, and a camera lens or two—hundred—pointed directly at you.

“I told you this would happen,” you muttered under your breath.

Max, walking beside you in his dark Red Bull kit, tossed you a side-smirk, annoyingly unbothered. “You look too good. That’s your fault.”

“You look good. I’m just… present.”

He stopped, took a step back, and looked at you in that way that made your knees soften. “You think that’s just presence?” he murmured, tipping his sunglasses down to scan you properly. “You’re the entire press conference right now.”

You nudged him with your elbow, cheeks warm. “They’re all staring.”

“So let them stare,” he said simply, and then—without hesitation—slipped his hand into yours.

Not on accident. Not for show. Just because he wanted to.

But the cameras clicked faster.

From the other side of the paddock, you spotted Charles and Pierre watching with smirks. Pierre leaned into Charles and said something, earning a laugh and a pointed look in your direction.

“Oh no,” you groaned.

Max followed your line of sight. “Ignore them.”

“I can feel Lando’s grin from here.”

“He’s jealous,” Max replied dryly. “Because you’re mine.”

You arched a brow. “Oh, I’m yours now?”

He stepped in close, leaning down just enough so his breath kissed the shell of your ear. “You’ve always been mine. Now the rest of the grid knows.”

Before you could fire back with something sarcastic—or worse, sincere—he pulled away like nothing had happened, squeezing your hand as he walked toward the Red Bull garage.

"You're blushing," he added over his shoulder.

"You're annoying," you muttered back—but you were smiling.

And yes, when Lando walked past a few minutes later and said “You really let Verstappen pull you, huh?” with a crooked grin, Max very calmly replied, “She wasn’t pulled. She jumped.”

Twitter/X, five minutes later:

@F1GirlsUnited: the way max said “she’s mine” and then walked off holding her hand like that… help I’m unwell @charlesbabydoll: y/n is literally one of us and she bagged max. Queen behavior. @RedBullTea: Charles and Pierre’s faces watching it happen was HILARIOUS, they were so ready to gossip 😭 @simps4max: if she ever lets go of that man I’m RIGHT HERE READY

.

The Tokyo skyline shimmered through the tall glass windows of Max’s hotel suite, city lights flickering like stardust scattered across the night. You sat curled up on the plush hotel bed in one of Max’s old race t-shirts, sleeves too big, hem brushing your thighs, watching him pace shirtless across the room with his phone to his ear.

He was still flushed from qualifying—P1, but barely. That Verstappen fire lingered under his skin, thrumming beneath the muscles in his back as he muttered into Dutch with his race engineer. You watched the little droplets of water trail down his spine from the shower, curling into the dip above his towel-covered hips.

“Are you even listening?” you asked softly.

Max turned, eyes sweeping over you with a lazy grin. “No, not really.”

He ended the call mid-sentence, tossed his phone onto the nearby table, and stalked over to the bed with that quiet confidence that always made your pulse stutter. He leaned over you on his hands, hair still damp, face so close your noses almost touched.

“You look good in my shirt.”

“You say that like it’s a surprise.”

He hummed low in his throat and leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth first, then your jaw, then your collarbone—slow, languid, like he had all the time in the world.

Your hands threaded into his wet curls. “Still wound up from quali?”

“Hmm,” he nodded, lips grazing your throat. “Can’t sleep.”

“Need help with that?”

He laughed, a breathy sound against your skin. “Only if you’re offering.”

Your giggle was soft and sinful all at once. “I am wearing your favorite shirt.”

“And nothing else?”

You tugged him down fully on top of you. “Guess you’ll have to check.”

Ten minutes later…

Well. Maybe twenty.

You were curled into his chest now, both of you still catching your breath, a sheet tangled around your waists and the lights of Tokyo spilling across your bare legs. Max reached blindly for his phone, eyes still half-lidded.

“Don’t post anything,” you warned.

“I’m not,” he smirked. “Just checking who out-qualified me.”

But the second his screen lit up, you gasped.

“Max—what is that?”

He squinted. “What?”

The Instagram app was open. On his story. A still photo—taken God knows when—of you straddling his lap on the hotel bed, laughing, both of you flushed and rumpled and way too obviously post-sin. He must’ve tapped post by accident.

“Oh my God—delete it!”

“I’m trying!” he fumbled with the screen, but the damage was done.

Five minutes later, the internet:

@F1FanaticNews: MAX VERSTAPPEN ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE MOST CHAOTIC COUPLE PHOTO WE’VE EVER SEEN. @horny4f1: not Max posting a post-sex pic like he’s in love. I’m gonna cry @charlesgirlie: THE WAY SHE’S LAUGHING ON TOP OF HIM 😭😭😭 THEY’RE IN LOVE @landoenthusiast: who knew Max had rizz @yngridverstappen: I just know Helmut Marko is crying in a corner rn

Max tossed the phone aside with a sheepish grin. “Oops?”

You were burying your face in a pillow. “We’re trending, aren’t we?”

“Probably.” He leaned down, brushed a kiss against your temple. “Worth it.”

You peeked up at him, still breathless and blushing. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re still in my shirt.” His smile softened. “Which means you’re mine.”

You groaned and pulled him back down with a laugh. “Then take responsibility for your public horniness, Verstappen.”

“Oh, I will,” he whispered into your neck. “All night.”

.

The Suzuka sun blazed above the track, golden and unforgiving. The crowd was a sea of red and orange, thunderous and chanting, and Max—Max stood at the center of it, champagne-soaked and grinning like he owned the world.

He did, in that moment.

And you were there, just past the barrier, watching him.

The moment his eyes found yours, there was no delay. No “let me thank the team first,” no sponsor-polite smile. He jumped off the small step of the podium like he had nothing but tunnel vision and walked—no, strode—toward you with his fireproofs unzipped and hanging off his waist, his torso still gleaming under the sun.

He grabbed you by the waist without a word and pulled you into him, kissing you like there weren’t thousands of people watching, like the cameras weren’t already zoomed in, like the world hadn’t been speculating for weeks.

Your fingers slid into his damp hair. His hands clutched your hips. And he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this exact moment—lips hungry, tongue teasing, breath caught between laughter and something much darker.

“Max—” you breathed when he pulled away just slightly.

He only smirked. “That should make tomorrow’s headlines.”

Press Conference – Thirty Minutes Later

He sat front and center, fresh shirt, hair slightly damp, watch glittering under the lights. Charles and Lewis flanked him, answering their questions politely.

And then it came.

A reporter, too smug for his own good, leaned forward with a little smirk. “Max, your driving was on point as always today, but fans seem very curious about that kiss after the podium. Any comment on the, uh… surprise guest in your personal life?”

Max didn’t miss a beat.

He leaned into the mic, voice low and amused. “You mean my girlfriend?”

The room went silent, pens stalling mid-scribble.

He shrugged casually. “She’s amazing. Beautiful. Smarter than all of you. And she’s the reason I slept more than four hours this weekend.”

Charles choked on his water.

Lewis burst out laughing.

The room erupted.

And Max just leaned back with a satisfied smile, looking directly at the camera—your camera, the one you were watching from backstage.

.

“Smarter than all of you?” you teased, straddling his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed, still warm from the shower.

Max smirked, hands on your hips. “They needed to know.”

“You mean they needed to know I keep you rested?”

His lips brushed your neck, soft and slow. “Among other things.”

You giggled as he pressed you down against the mattress, his voice dropping to a whisper near your ear.

“I win races, but you make the victory feel real.”

The night unfolded like silk—hot skin against cooler sheets, whispered laughter, a kiss for every lap he’d driven like the devil himself was chasing him.

And this time, no phones. No posts.

Just you. Just him. Just the sound of breathless hearts and the weight of all the things he couldn’t say in front of cameras.

Only for you.

[pucksandpower]

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

[paddockletters]

only girl (in the word) | lando norris

pairing: lando norris x reader summary: Lando and y/n enjoy a night out at a club with friends, but when some girls try to get close, he doesn't allow it and gives you your place as always. author's note: I took inspiration from a tiktok that I saw some time ago and I wanted to write it, so I hope you like it 😭😭

The lights of the nightclub flickered as the music pulsed through the room, blending with the laughter and chatter of the crowd. I leaned back against the VIP section, sipping my drink and watching Lando at the DJ booth with Martin. Both of them were having a blast, messing around with the controller and hyping up the crowd. Nights like this had become a regular thing for us—a little bit of fun, music, and good company with our tight-knit circle.

Even though Lando was always in the spotlight, we had managed to keep our relationship pretty private. Only our closest circle knew. It wasn't that we were hiding it, but having a relationship in the spotlight of F1 could be… overwhelming. It allowed us to just be us without the pressure of prying eyes and the constant speculation from fans or media.

I was watching him goof off with Martin when I felt someone nudge me. I turned to see Max (Fewtrell) , one of Lando’s closest friends, grinning as he leaned over to speak, his voice barely audible over the music.

"He's having the time of his life up there, isn't he?" Max said with a chuckle, motioning toward Lando, who was pretending to DJ like a pro.

"He really is. I’m just waiting for him to mess something up.” I laughed, nodding.

Max laughed, his eyes scanning the dance floor before he leaned closer.

"You know, it’s funny—he never really used to like these kinds of nights before you."

I raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," Max nodded. "He’d always be the one leaving early, saying he had training or a race coming up. But ever since you guys started hanging out, he sticks around longer. Seems to enjoy it more. I think you’re a good influence on him."

"Maybe I’m just more fun than his training sessions." I smiled at the thought.

"Definitely more fun," Max teased, giving me a wink before heading off to join a few other friends.

I took another sip of my drink, feeling the warmth spread through me, both from the alcohol and Max’s words. I glanced back toward the DJ booth, catching Lando’s eye as he looked over at me, a playful grin on his face. He gave me a quick wink before returning to the music, his fingers moving over the controls like he knew exactly what he was doing.

It was then that I noticed a group of girls edging closer to him. One in particular seemed determined to get his attention, her phone already in hand, angling for a selfie or a picture with him. She was bold, stepping right up to him, bottle in hand, and attempting to take the one Lando was holding.

I watched as Lando paused, his smile fading slightly. He gently pushed her hand away, not rough, but firm enough to make his point. I could see him looking around, scanning the crowd until his eyes found mine. His expression softened immediately, and without hesitation, he motioned for me to come closer.

I could feel the girls' eyes on me as I made my way over. Their glances were sharp, the kind of looks that were meant to make you feel out of place, but I wasn’t about to let that ruin the night. Lando didn’t say a word when I reached him, just slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, his body pressing against mine in a protective, almost possessive way.

"Hey," he whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine."

"Good," he said, leaning in closer. "Because I want you right here with me."

He pulled me in even tighter, and I rested my head on his shoulder for a moment, letting the music and the energy of the club surround us. Lando kissed the top of my head, a small gesture, but one that made me feel like the only person in the room.

Just then, Martin leaned over, grinning at us.

"Oi, Lando! You better be careful up here, mate. You’re making her fall for you all over again!"

"That’s the plan, mate!" Lando laughed, his arm never leaving my waist.

"You’re such a dork." I rolled my eyes, playfully nudging him.

"But I’m your dork," he replied with a cheeky grin.

As the night wore on, we danced, laughed, and enjoyed every second. The crowd seemed to disappear, and it was just us, lost in our own little world. But every now and then, I’d catch one of the girls from earlier casting a glance our way, her lips curled in a smug smile as if she was waiting for me to crack under the pressure of being in Lando’s orbit.

It didn’t bother me, not really. Lando had always made sure I knew my place in his life. He wasn’t the type to flirt with random girls or let anyone come between us. But I couldn’t deny that the whispers, the glances, they got under my skin just a little.

After a while, Lando leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "You wanna get out of here?"

I nodded, grateful for the offer. The night had been fun, but I was ready for something quieter, something just for us.

"Yeah, let’s go."

He grabbed my hand, guiding me through the crowd, past the girls who had been eyeing us all night. One of them whispered something to her friend as we passed, but I didn’t catch it. I didn’t need to. The look on her face said enough.

As we stepped outside, the cool night air hit my skin, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Lando squeezed my hand, pulling me close.

"You okay?" he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

I hesitated for a moment, debating whether to brush it off, but decided against it.

"It’s just… sometimes it’s hard being around people who don’t really get us, you know?"

Lando frowned, his thumb brushing gently over the back of my hand. "Did something happen inside?"

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. "It’s nothing, really. Just some girls being… well, girls."

"What did they say?" Lando stopped walking, turning to face me fully.

I shook my head, not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

"It’s not what they said, it’s just... their looks. Like they were waiting for me to mess up or something. I don’t know. I guess I’m not used to it."

Lando’s jaw tightened, his hand gripping mine a little harder.

"You know you don’t have to worry about that, right? I’m with you. Only you."

I smiled, touched by his words.

"I know. I just—sometimes it feels like I’m always being watched. Like I’m never enough."

Lando’s expression softened, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. "You’re more than enough. Don’t let anyone make you feel like you aren’t. Especially not them."

I hugged him back, feeling the warmth of his body against mine, and for the first time that night, I felt at ease. With Lando by my side, the whispers, the looks—they didn’t matter.

As we pulled apart, he leaned down and kissed me gently, his lips lingering on mine for just a moment longer than usual. When he pulled back, he grinned.

"Come on, let’s go home. I think we are going have a more fun night there."

"Yeah, let’s get out of here." I laughed softly, nodding in agreement.

And with that, hand in hand, we left the nightclub behind, ready to end the night our way—together.

[cressidagrey]

Daylight

Pairing: Lando Norris x Emilie Abadie (Original Character)

Welcome to a short side story, featuring Emilie and Lando, set in the White Horse Universe. There are specific scenes copy and pasted from White Horse, so it’s easier to follow along timeline wise.

Summary:

Emilie Abadie hadn’t planned on caring about Formula 1. Until she saw a boy with curly hair win the Miami GP in 2024. 

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, toxic families

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Emilie Abadie hadn’t planned on caring about Formula 1.

In fact, she actively avoided caring about it— Mostly because of her best friend. 

Belle, with her soft green eyes and gentle heart, who had already survived too many years of being invisible in a family that only seemed to remember she existed when it was convenient. 

Belle, who was one of the best people Emilie had ever met, who had been born into a family that cared about podiums and trophies, about DRS and pit stops… and not about their daughter, their sister. 

Even Max Verstappen hadn’t changed Emilie’s dislike for everything Formula 1. 

Granted, of course, Emilie had googled him when Belle had first mentioned him to her. 

There had been some amusement somewhere in the back of her head that Belle had found a guy to date who had 2 World Championship titles and 4 dozen wins to his name, while Belle’s brother was still on his 5th career win after Austria 2022. 

Emilie didn’t care about Max’s wins. Or his podiums. Or whatever he did for a living. She’d seen enough of Belle’s face when she talked about him to know he was good—really, properly good—and that was enough.

But then came that Sunday in May, and Twitter exploded.

Emilie wasn’t even trying to pay attention. She was lounging on her balcony with an espresso, mindlessly scrolling between Vogue articles and TikToks of people organising their fridges. 

And then—suddenly—orange hats, all-caps screaming, and multiple photos of a grinning man half-drenched in champagne.

“HE FINALLY DID IT.”

“LANDO. FREAKING. NORRIS.”

Someone had posted a clip of him standing on the top step of the podium, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy, trying to keep it together while the crowd roared. And God help her, Emilie had clicked it.

He wasn’t even her type.

Too boyish. 

Too chaotic. 

Probably smelled like Monster Energy and nerves.

But he’d smiled like it meant something. Like it had taken years. Like he couldn’t quite believe the universe had finally let him have this moment.

And something in Emilie’s chest—usually locked up tight behind snark and cashmere—shifted.

She frowned.

Closed the app.

Opened it again.

Googled him.

Lando Norris. 25. British. McLaren driver. Five seasons. No wins—until now.

She even found a quote: “It’s about damn time.”

And still, Emilie was deeply annoyed to find herself staring at photos of this Lando person and wondering what his laugh sounded like in real life.

And that was exactly when she opened her texts and messaged Belle.

***

Text Messages: Emilie Abadie & Isabelle Leclerc

Emilie: Okay so… Question

Isabelle: That’s always a dangerous start.

Emilie: Who is this Lando person And why is everyone crying because he won something

Isabelle: Oh my God. You really don’t know anything about F1, do you?

Emilie: Absolutely not. I know Max drives fast, and you’re too pretty to be emotionally stable, that’s it.

Isabelle: Valid.

Emilie: But seriously. My entire timeline is full of sweaty orange hats and people screaming “HE FINALLY DID IT.” What did he do? Did he climb a mountain? Invent a vaccine?

Isabelle: He won his first Formula 1 Grand Prix. He’s been in F1 for five years. Always came close. Never quite made it.Everyone’s been waiting for this.He’s a good guy. Deserved it.

Emilie: Huh. He’s the guy with the curly hair, right?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: And the jawbones?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: And the voice that’s suspiciously hot for someone named Lando?

Isabelle: …Why do you care?

Emilie: I don’t!!

Isabelle: You do. You’ve never asked me about a single driver. Not once. And now you’re googling him like a concerned historian.

Emilie: I’m just… doing research. You know. investigating the cultural phenomenon

Isabelle: Uh-huh. Is this cultural phenomenon wearing a papaya-colored race suit and has curly hair?

Emilie: Fine. He’s cute. He looked happy. The bar is so low.

Isabelle: He is cute. And he should be happy. He’s a good guy.

Emilie: You sound like you’re trying to sell me a family dog.

Isabelle: He’s very sweet! Loyal! Thoughtful! Max calls him chaotic sunshine. I call him emotionally transparent. You’d like him.

Emilie: So a golden retriever.

Isabelle: With slightly better hair.

Emilie: Does he bite?

Isabelle: Only when provoked. Or when Max makes a joke about his height.

Emilie: Hmm.

Isabelle: Oh no.

Emilie: What?

Isabelle: You’re thinking about him.

Emilie: Absolutely not.

Emilie: This is slander.

Isabelle: This is me knowing you better than you know yourself. And I’m telling you: he’s a good one. A little chaotic. But real.

Emilie: He smiled like…like he waited years for this. I noticed that. I hate that I noticed that.

Belle: Yeah. That’s why people cried. It wasn’t just about the win—it was about him. He needed it. And he earned it.

Emilie: …Okay maybe I get the hats now.

Isabelle: Give it three days. You’ll be watching fan edits on TikTok and pretending it’s research. I have been there. 

***

Emilie tossed her phone down onto her table, flopping back into her chair with a groan.

God, what was wrong with her?

She never did this. Never caught herself noticing smiles. Never cared about people’s stories. 

She’d always been good at getting the guy.

Usually, she saw a man she liked, decided she liked him, and that was it. 

If she wanted him, she got him. 

Easy.

The harder part—the impossible part—was getting them to stay.

Not that she ever admitted that out loud.

They got infatuated with the packaging—pretty blonde, sharp tongue, quick wit—but none of them wanted to know what was underneath. Or if they did, they ran.

So she never gave them the chance.

Emilie knew what she was. What she had been taught to be: polished, pretty, disposable.

Raised by grandparents who valued appearances more than affection, she’d learned early that emotions were a liability. Her family was a cold, glittering mess of old money and colder expectations. 

Emotionally unavailable parents who vacationed in the Alps more than they parented. Her grandparents had raised her—fierce, stylish people who taught her how to dress, how to argue, how to build walls no man could climb. 

Emilie knew how to play the part—how to be charming, captivating, just unattainable enough to keep her pride intact when everything inevitably crumbled.

Old money. Cold manners. 

And Belle—sweet, gentle Belle—hadn’t been raised in a world much kinder.

Emilie still hated Belle’s family for that. For making her believe she had to earn love, that she had to be perfect to deserve being seen. Even now, even after Belle had found Max—the only man who seemed to see her fully and without condition—Emilie’s chest still burned with protective rage whenever she thought about it.

She’d watched Belle spend her whole life being overlooked. Forgotten. Ignored by people who were supposed to love her. And now she had Max, who looked at her like she was the whole damn world.

She was happy for Belle. Truly. Because Belle deserved good things—finally. Especially after growing up in a family that prioritized podiums over people. 

And Emilie, for all her sass and designer boots, had never liked the Leclercs. Not really.

Belle was happy now. Radiantly, irrevocably happy. And Max—grumpy, blunt Max—loved her like it was the only thing that had ever made sense.

Maybe that’s why Emilie couldn’t look away from a stranger’s victory lap on Twitter.

 Maybe, deep down, she still believed there were people worth betting on.

Even if she didn’t believe it for herself.

God help me, she thought grimly, dragging a hand over her face.

She was absolutely going to end up watching fan edits.

In three days. Tops.

Maybe two.

Lando Norris had looked like someone who didn’t think the world would ever give him a win.

And for some reason… she couldn’t stop thinking about that.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: Max and I are getting married tomorrow. City hall. Just something small. Just for us. Will you come?

Emilie: EXCUSE ME???? TOMORROW??? CITY HALL??? SMALL???

Isabelle: Yes. No fuss. Just us. That’s all I want.

Emilie: Oh my GOD. You are not getting married like you’re renewing a driver’s license. You need flowers. A cake. A moment, Belle.

Isabelle: I don’t need any of that. I just want him. That’s it.

Emilie: Yes, yes, eternal love, devotion, blah blah blah. BUT. You are still getting married. You will wear a dress. You will hold a bouquet. You will eat something that tastes like joy and sugar and victory.

Isabelle: I’m not even sure what I’m wearing yet 😅 We haven’t thought that far ahead.

Emilie: THAT IS WHY YOU HAVE ME. Do you still have the white dress we got a few weeks ago? The one that made you look like a romantic novel with legs?

Isabelle: ...Yes.

Emilie: Good. Wear that. It’s perfect. Simple. Elegant. You. I’ll take care of the rest.

Isabelle: Em—no pressure, really. Please. I don’t want a production.

Emilie: This won’t be a production. It’ll be a love letter. With flowers. And maybe a three-layer cake.

Isabelle: Emilie 😭 You really don’t have to—

Emilie: Belle. You’ve planned everyone else’s birthdays, surprises, parties, and holidays since you were like what, twelve?! Let someone do it for you this once. Let me.

Isabelle: ...Okay. But just a little. No spark machines. No confetti cannons.

Emilie: Deal. But I am bringing champagne. And I will cry.

Isabelle: I wouldn’t want it any other way. 💛

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: You have a camera, right?

Lando: …yes?? What kind of question is that?

Max: Like, a real one. Not your phone.

Lando: Yes, Max, I own a camera. Why??

Max: I need you to document something.

Lando: What kind of something?

Max: Just be at Monaco City Hall tomorrow. 10:30. Bring your camera. Wear a suit. Preferably not orange.

Lando: MAX.

Max: Yes?

Lando: ARE YOU GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW???

Max: Yes.

Lando: YOU’RE JUST DROPPING THAT ON ME AT MIDNIGHT???

Max: It’s 11:43.

Lando: Oh, my mistake. PLENTY OF TIME TO PROCESS THE FACT YOU’RE SECRETLY GETTING MARRIED.

Max: Not secretly. Just quietly.

Lando: Max.

Max: What.

Lando: I’M HONORED BUT ALSO PANICKING. Do you want, like, pictures or VIBES?? Do I need a tripod?? Am I the witness?? Do I bring champagne?? WHAT’S MY ROLE HERE.

Max: Your role is “friend with a camera who knows how to shut up.”

Lando: I can be that.

 Wait—can I still cry a little?

Max: Only if it’s behind the camera.

Lando: Deal. Lando:I don’t even know what shoes to wear for a Verstappen emergency elopement

Max: Don’t overthink it. You’re just the photographer.

Lando: You’re getting married in Monaco city hall and I’m the photographer?? What the hell kind of fairy tale speedrun is this?

Max: The efficient kind.

Lando: Who else is gonna come?

Max: Just us. People we trust. 

***

Emilie Abadie had been awake since three in the morning. .

Not because she was nervous. She wasn’t the one getting married. 

It was Belle’s wedding. And that meant it had to be perfect.

Because Belle would never ask for perfect. Belle would shrug and say “just something quiet, just us” with that soft look in her eyes like she didn’t dare hope for more. But Emilie had spent the last seven years learning the difference between what Belle asked for and what she deserved.

And today, she deserved everything.

And perfection, as it turned out, required bribing a florist with a bottle of Dom Pérignon, whispering at a baker’s front door like a criminal, and coordinating a last-minute restaurant buyout with a maître d’ who still remembered Belle and Max’s first date like it had happened yesterday.

It was still early. The sun hadn’t quite cleared the rooftops of Monaco. But Emilie was already in motion—dressed, phone in hand, espresso in the other, a determined woman on a mission.

The florist had said it couldn’t be done. Snowdrops weren’t in season. They’d laughed—laughed—when Emilie asked.

Laughed. Emilie still remembered when Belle had told her about her favourite flowers. Fragile, quiet, perfect. Blooming in the cold, when nothing else did. Just like Belle. 

Emilie Abadie didn’t take no for an answer.

She made five calls. 

Then ten. 

Then offered double the price. 

Then triple. 

Someone from a specialty hothouse near Nice came through. A courier had arrived an hour ago, carrying a chilled box like it held diplomatic secrets.

Now, the bouquet sat in a vase on Emilie’s kitchen counter. Fragile white snowdrops, soft eucalyptus, and one or two sprigs of pale forget-me-nots.

Because Emilie was dramatic, and because Belle deserved to be remembered in every way that mattered.

The cake was next.

Not a tiered monstrosity. Just something beautiful. Elegant. White chocolate and raspberry with buttercream. The baker—an angel Emilie had gone to culinary school with for exactly three weeks—had rolled her eyes at the timeline and then agreed with a huff. “Only because it’s for Belle.”

Of course it was.

Emilie knew how much Belle had given. To her family. To her brothers. To Ferrari. To everyone except herself.

She’d watched Belle quietly shrink herself for years—make room for Lorenzo, for Charles, for Arthur, for Charles’ career, for the Leclerc family myth. 

Belle never asked for much. Never expected anything back.

So today, Emilie would give her everything.

The final piece fell into place just after sunrise: lunch at the restaurant where Max had taken Belle on their first date. The cozy one tucked behind the port with the ivy-covered terrace and the little hand-painted plates. Emilie had called the manager at 6:15 a.m.

“I need the whole place,” she’d said. “15 people. Three bottles of Perrier-Jouët Belle Époque. No fuss. No press. Max and Belle Verstappen.”

The Manager had paused and looked at Emilie:. “Ah,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “For the couple who ordered the wine, then forgot to drink it because they were too busy falling in love?”

By 6:00, the venue was booked. The menu was set. The staff had already started laying out fresh linen.

Emilie checked the list one more time—flowers, cake, lunch, Max’s boutonnière, Belle’s shoes.

Everything was ready.

Emilie slipped her phone into her bag, gave the bouquet one last fond glance, and smiled to herself.

Because today—finally—was about Belle. Not Charles. Not their mother. Not a team or a trophy or anyone else’s spotlight.

Today was hers.

And Emilie Abadie would make sure not a single petal was out of place.

***

Emilie Abadie arrived with the force of a hurricane compressed into five feet and a few inches of blonde ambition and French fire.

She stood in the doorway like she’d conquered nations before breakfast, her icy blue eyes narrowing the moment they landed on him.

Lando’s stomach immediately did that stupid swoopy thing it did when he just knew he was fucked. 

She was Belle’s best friend. He had known that in an offhand way, had seen her make appearances on Belle’s Instagram and in stories Belle told…but Lando had never met her. 

“Why,” she said, voice crisp and imperious, “are half of you not wearing ties?”

Lando glanced around as if he might be able to blend into the cabinetry.

Too late.

“You,” Emilie snapped, pointing at him with all the grace and threat of a commander selecting someone for sacrifice.

“Me?” Lando squeaked.

She stalked toward him like a missile in heels. “You call that a tie? What is that knot? A shoelace? A cry for help?”

Lando glanced down at the pale blue mess under his collar. It did, in fact, look like it had lost a bar fight. “Technically… yes?”

Emilie sighed. Dramatically. Award-winningly. “Come here.”

He obeyed, despite every instinct screaming to flee. Blushing furiously, Lando stepped toward her like a man accepting his fate.

“You’re kind of scary,” he muttered.

“I’m not scary,” she replied, already undoing his tie with practiced hands, “I’m just French and disappointed.”

He stood still, heart hammering far too fast, hyper-aware of how close she was, of the way she reached up to fix the tie like she’d done it a hundred times. She smelled like roses and battle plans. Her fingers brushed his throat, adjusting the collar with delicate but precise movements, and Lando very seriously considered the possibility that this was what dying felt like.

“Can I breathe yet?” he whispered.

“When I say you can,” she said sweetly, tilting his chin. “Fashion is pain. Suffer with dignity.”

“I’m… terrified of her,” Lando muttered under his breath once she turned her attention elsewhere.

Max, still leaning casually against the counter, didn’t even blink. “You should be.”

And Lando was, but also… he was hopelessly in love with her. 

Or at least something very inconvenient and fluttery that made it hard to breathe when she was near. 

She was absolutely stunning in her sharply tailored outfit and meticulous energy, her blonde hair swept up, and her eyes laser-focused on whipping the room into shape. She’d turned wedding planning into a military campaign—and somehow made it look elegant.

But even as she herded grown men into order with eyebrow raises and verbal artillery, Lando couldn’t stop watching Max.

Because Max—who had never seemed interested in fanfare or spectacle—was getting married today. And he looked… happy. Genuinely, deeply happy in a way that made Lando’s chest go warm.

And Belle—sweet, gentle, quietly brave Belle—was the reason.

He couldn’t be happier for them.

Even if Charles was definitely going to kill him.

Lando had been trying not to think about that bit—the Charles-is-going-to-strangle-him-when-he-finds-out bit. Because once the truth came out, once Charles realized his little sister had married Max, and Lando had known, there was going to be hell to pay.

But he couldn’t bring himself to feel too guilty about it. Not when Max looked like that. Not when Belle had finally been seen the way she deserved.

The chaos in the room only paused when Emilie cornered Tom, who was valiantly attempting to pass off a cravat as formalwear.

“This is Monaco, not Pemberley,” Emilie said, already pulling a tie from her tote like Mary Poppins preparing for war.

Even Jos wasn’t immune. When Emilie raised her brows at him with military precision, he actually reached for the tie GP handed him—without protest.

“I like her,” Jos muttered, half to himself.

Yeah, Lando thought, hopeless and dazed. Me too.

Daniel’s cartoon tie didn’t stand a chance. Neither did his excuses.

“I have a lighter in my purse,” Emilie said, entirely too calmly.

And just like that, Daniel disappeared to change.

Only Oscar and GP escaped with their dignity intact. Emilie gave them a nod that could’ve launched ships.

Then Max—cool, unbothered Max—lifted his chin with the smugness of a man who had already tied his tie correctly.

“It’s crooked,” Emilie said, pulling him forward to fix it anyway.

Max didn’t even argue. Just let her do it, then shot her a crooked grin.

“You’ll do,” Emilie declared.

“You’re marrying my best friend,” she added. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you wear the floral pocket square.”

Lando snorted. Max only grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

And then the world stopped moving.

Because the bedroom door opened.

Belle stepped out.

And everything else just… dropped away.

Lando forgot about his camera. Forgot about his tie. Forgot about the fact he was probably about to die by Leclerc rage.

Because Belle was breathtaking.

She looked like she belonged in one of those old black-and-white movies—ethereal and quiet, in a dress that shimmered like water, snowdrops tucked gently into her dark curls. Her eyes swept the room until they found Max.

And Max—his friend, the fiercest driver he’d ever known—just stood there like the ground had been ripped out from under him.

“Hi,” Belle said softly.

Max walked toward her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. And when he told her she looked like a dream he’d never let himself have, Lando had to turn away, just for a second.

His chest hurt in a good way.

Maybe love didn’t have to be loud or dramatic or perfect. Maybe it could just be this. A quiet kitchen. A white dress. A soft “Hi.” The kind of thing that made a man forget how to breathe.

Daniel sniffled. Oscar told him to shut up.

And Lando—caught somewhere between awe and a slight panic over Charles Leclerc’s eventual reaction—just smiled.

Because one of his best friend had everything he’d ever wanted.

And Lando? Lando might be crushing on the tiny French hurricane currently terrorizing everyone with her sense of style.

But he had hope.

***

The wedding luncheon was held at a small, sun-washed restaurant tucked into one of Monaco’s corners. 

It was perfect, of course. Belle perfect.

The place where Belle and Max had had their first date. Where they had fallen in love and forgotten to drink the bottle of wine they had ordered it. 

Emilie sat at one of the long wooden tables, a glass of champagne in hand, watching Belle laugh over something Max whispered in her ear, her cheeks pink and glowing.

And for the first time in a long time, Emilie felt something unspool in her chest—something fragile and aching.

Belle was happy.

Finally.

After years of being treated like an afterthought by people who should have fought for her, she was loved by someone who saw her. It made Emilie both stupidly emotional and faintly murderous when she thought about the people who hadn't.

Her fingers curled loosely around the stem of her glass.

She didn't cry at weddings. That was not her brand.

But if she were going to cry, it would’ve been for this.

Someone bumped her elbow, breaking the spell.

She looked up—and into the bright, apologetic face of Lando Norris.

"Sorry! Sorry," he said immediately, holding up his hands like a man under arrest. "Didn’t mean to—uh, interrupt. Or spill anything. Or—"

He was wearing a navy blue suit, rumpled already, tie askew again even after her earlier threats. His curls were fighting a losing battle against whatever product he’d tried to tame them with. There was a crookedness to him—a kind of chaotic, restless energy buzzing just under his skin.

He looked like a golden retriever trying desperately not to knock over a priceless vase.

Emilie raised an eyebrow. Cool. Appraising.

She knew boys like him. Bright smiles. Quick laughs. Attention spans like sparklers: burning hot, burning out.

He should’ve been easy to dismiss.

So why wasn’t she?

"You’re safe," she said dryly, tipping her glass toward him. "For now."

Lando's grin widened, lopsided and a little breathless. "Good. I was warned you might have a taser."

Emilie allowed herself a small, sharp smile. "Only for men who deserve it."

His eyes—bright greenish blue, annoyingly nice eyes—crinkled at the corners. He shifted from foot to foot like he didn’t know whether to stay or retreat. She could practically see the gears turning in his brain, second-guessing everything.

Cute, she thought reluctantly. In that maddening, boyish way.

And real.

There was something startlingly unguarded about him. No polished script, no careful charm. Just... all messy heart.

"Can I—uh, sit?" he asked, nodding toward the empty chair beside her.

Emilie could have said no. Should have, maybe.

Instead, she tilted her head and said, "If you must."

He practically collapsed into the chair with relief, bumping the table and nearly knocking over a bread basket in the process. Emilie caught it one-handed, setting it upright with a sigh that was more amused than exasperated.

"Smooth," she said.

"I try," Lando said, flashing another grin. "But usually it goes like this."

They fell into an awkward, oddly endearing silence. The lunch buzzed around them: clinking glasses, bursts of laughter, Belle’s voice lifting and carrying across the room like music.

Lando fiddled with the edge of the napkin, sneaking glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Emilie noticed.

She noticed everything.

And it made her want to fold herself back into the armor she wore with men. The one that said: you can look, but you will never touch anything real.

But he wasn’t looking at her like she was an acquisition to win or a prize to brag about.

He was looking at her like she was a puzzle he was trying—hopelessly—to figure out.

She sipped her champagne. Let him squirm a little longer. Then, finally:

"So," Emilie said, tilting her head just enough to make him sweat, "are you going to make conversation, or are you just planning to stare at me and hope it counts?"

Lando blinked, then laughed—a quick, surprised sound that made something warm spark low in her chest.

"I was thinking... both?" he said, scratching the back of his neck. "You’re kind of intimidating."

"Good," Emilie said, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. "I work hard at it."

He shook his head, still smiling, eyes glinting with something that might have been mischief-or admiration.

Probably both.

And Emilie—who got whatever guy she wanted but never trusted any of them to stay—felt the faintest, most treacherous flicker of curiosity.

Maybe Belle wasn’t the only one who deserved good things.

Maybe.

But not yet.

For now, she just raised an eyebrow, tore a piece of bread in half, and said, "You’ve got five minutes to impress me, Norris. Don’t waste it."

Lando leaned forward like a man accepting a dare.

"Oh," he said, grinning wide and unrepentant. "I’m definitely going to waste it."

And to her absolute horror—

Emilie found herself smiling.

Real and warm and helpless against it.

Maybe chaotic sunshine wasn’t the worst thing to let into her life after all.

Emilie watched him over the rim of her glass, amused in the way one might watch a golden retriever attempt calculus. She was prepared for the usual: some half-flirty line, some brag, something easy to roll her eyes at and dismiss.

Instead, Lando immediately, and spectacularly, fumbled it.

“So, uh,” he began, sitting up straighter like he was about to give a business presentation, “I have a driver's license.”

Emilie blinked. “I should hope so,” she said dryly, “given your profession.”

“Yeah, but like,” Lando forged on, waving a hand vaguely, “I passed my first test. No minors. No majors. Totally clean sheet. Instructor said I was ‘shockingly competent.’” He smiled at her like this was an accomplishment that should win him a Nobel Prize.

Emilie couldn’t help it: she laughed.

A small one, sharp and unexpected, escaping before she could stop it.

Lando lit up like a Christmas tree. Actually lit up.

Encouraged, he kept going, words tumbling out like he couldn’t stop them if he tried.

“And—and I can cook a bit. Like, real cooking. Not just the ‘put something in the microwave and pray’ thing.”

“What’s your specialty?” Emilie asked, playing along, one eyebrow lifted.

He considered this with deep, theatrical seriousness.

“Pasta,” he said finally. “But, like, real pasta. I once made fresh tagliatelle for a girl I liked.”

Emilie smirked. “And did she survive?”

“She did,” Lando said solemnly. “She even asked for seconds. Probably because I didn’t tell her I dropped half the dough on the floor and had to start over.”

Emilie shook her head, sipping her champagne to hide the curve of her mouth.

God, he was awful at this. And somehow—somehow—it was working.

Not because he was slick.

But because he wasn’t.

He was throwing everything out there, a whole messy human open on the table, with no polish, no angles, no agenda except: please like me.

And it was dangerously, horribly endearing.

Emilie, who had been courted by men with yachts and family names older than democracy, who had been wooed with Cartier and poetry and private jets, found herself genuinely, terrifyingly charmed by a boy who thought shockingly competent driving was an acceptable conversation starter.

“You’ve got two minutes left,” she said lightly.

Lando gasped in mock horror. “Pressure’s on.”

He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking.

Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was telling her a state secret."Okay. Here's the real selling point: I'm friends with Max, and you know what that means?"

She gave him a look that said choose your next words very carefully.

"It means," Lando said solemnly, "I have survived approximately fourteen near-death experiences involving go-karts, jet skis, and very questionable Red Bull stunts. So I'm basically immortal."

Emilie snorted into her glass.

"And," Lando added, beaming now, "I'm very good at getting bloodstains out of clothes. Just in case."

"You expect me to believe you're domestically capable," she said, eyeing him skeptically.

"I can use a washing machine," he said proudly. "Mostly."

"Terrifying."

Lando grinned wider, basking in the fact she hadn't told him to go away yet. His foot accidentally bumped hers under the table, and he yelped, jerking back like he'd been electrocuted.

"Sorry! Sorry—" he spluttered, flailing slightly. "Didn’t mean—"

"Relax," Emilie said, amused despite herself. "I don't bite."

She paused.

"Unless provoked," she added sweetly, echoing Belle’s earlier words.

Lando looked half in love already.

The realization hit Emilie like a cold glass of water poured down her back.

No.

No, no, no.

This wasn’t how it went. She flirted. She played. She walked away before anyone got the chance to look at her like that.

But Lando didn’t seem to be strategizing, didn’t seem to be measuring her up like some glossy prize. He just looked... happy. A little awestruck. A little proud of himself for surviving her.

It was stupid. And messy. And probably a terrible idea.

But when Belle caught her eye across the room and gave her a tiny, knowing smile—the same smile Belle had worn when Max had first reached for her hand like it was instinct—

Emilie thought, maybe, just maybe, she could let herself enjoy this. For today. For a minute.

For herself.

She set her champagne down and looked at Lando, who was still watching her like she might vanish if he blinked.

"Alright, Norris," Emilie said, sitting back with a mock-sigh. "You've survived the first round."

Lando brightened so much it was almost dangerous.

"And what’s round two?" he asked eagerly.

Emilie smirked.

"You’ll find out," she said, standing up, brushing invisible crumbs off her sleek dress. She leaned down, just enough to whisper near his ear:

"If you're lucky."

And when she sauntered off to steal a slice of cake before the toddlers got to it, she didn’t even have to look back to know Lando was grinning like he’d just won the Miami Grand Prix again.

***

It started innocently enough.

At least, that's what Lando told himself.

It was late, he was jetlagged, and he was lying in bed with one arm slung over his face, phone glowing much too brightly against the dark hotel room ceiling. He should’ve been asleep.

Instead, he was... scrolling.

Specifically, scrolling through Emilie Abadie’s Instagram.

In his defense, she’d posted a new story earlier that day—something about a bookstore in Paris—and he’d swiped up without thinking, curious. From there, well... it was a slippery slope.

He clicked on her profile. Scrolled a little. Then a little more. And a little more. Until suddenly he wasn’t just seeing today's cute coffee shop photo; he was deep in 2019 territory, where the grid looked different—less polished, more chaotic.

And there it was.

The Bikini Picture.

Emilie, standing on a beach somewhere impossibly blue, wearing sunglasses, a tiny black bikini, and a smirk that could have started wars. Hair loose, skin sun-kissed, hand holding some drink with a tiny paper umbrella in it.

She looked effortless. Untouchable. Dangerous.

Lando, because he had the survival instincts of a drunk moth around a flame, stared at it for too long.

And then, as if his thumb had a mind of its own—

He liked it.

The screen flashed red.

Hearted.

The panic hit instantly.

"NO—NO, NO, NO—" he yelped, scrambling like he'd just touched a live wire. He frantically unliked it—smashed the heart again until it turned back to grey—but it was too late.

He knew how Instagram worked.

She got the notification.

He sat there, paralyzed, mortified, vibrating with shame.

He had liked a bikini photo from five years ago.

He was that guy.

The type of guy who accidentally cyberstalked someone so hard he time-traveled.

Lando buried his face in his pillow and groaned loud enough to scare himself.

At some point, he gave up and texted Oscar.

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri

Lando: Mate. I just liked a 2019 bikini pic on Emilie’s Instagram. Kill me.

Oscar: 😂😂😂

Lando: I’m actually dying. This is fatal. I’ve died.

Oscar: How did you even GET to 2019??

Lando: I was just looking!! And then scrolling!! And then it happened!! I didn’t MEAN TO.

Oscar: Famous last words.

Lando: I hate you.

Lando: I'm gonna throw myself into the sea.

Oscar: Before you do, serious question. You like her, don’t you?

***

Later, when Lando had the courage to crawl out from under his metaphorical rock, he found himself sitting in Oscar’s hotel room, tossing a mini water bottle up and down, trying not to look like he wanted to crawl into the mini fridge and hide.

Oscar just sat on the bed, arms folded, regarding him with the amused patience of someone who had absolutely seen this coming.

“So,” Oscar said, grinning slightly. “Emilie, huh?”

Lando groaned. “It’s not like that.”

Oscar raised a brow.

Lando dropped the water bottle onto the floor with a thunk. “Okay. Fine. Maybe it’s a little like that.”

Oscar didn’t say anything, just nodded sagely, like he was some ancient wisdom god instead of a 23-year-old who still ate cereal for dinner sometimes.

“She’s just…” Lando floundered for words, pushing a hand through his hair. “She’s scary. And beautiful. And scary.”

“You said scary twice.”

“It felt necessary.”

Oscar snorted. “Sounds like you’ve got it bad, mate.”

Lando slumped. “I don’t even know if she likes me. She could crush me like a bug if she wanted.”

“Would you be mad about it?” Oscar asked.

Lando considered it. “…No.”

Oscar laughed, then sobered slightly, watching him.

“You ever just know?” Lando asked suddenly, voice quieter. “That someone’s different? Like—you’re still kind of terrified, but you don’t want to run away?”

Oscar leaned back against the headboard, thinking for a second.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “With Lily, I knew.”

Lando glanced at him, genuinely curious.

“I mean, it wasn’t like lightning bolts or fireworks or anything,” Oscar said, shrugging. “It was quieter. Like... I realized I was happier when she was around. And when she wasn’t, it felt like something was missing. She made life easier. Not harder. You know?”

Lando nodded slowly.

“People talk about love like it’s supposed to be this huge, dramatic thing,” Oscar continued. “But honestly? The real thing’s just... peace. Trust. Someone you want to tell stupid jokes to at 2 a.m.”

Lando swallowed.

He thought about Emilie.

The way she made fun of him mercilessly, but smiled when she thought he wasn’t looking.

The way she laughed—not a polite, reserved laugh, but a real, from-the-gut laugh—when he told the world’s dumbest jokes.

The way he felt when she was near. Like maybe he could stop trying to be impressive and just... be.

Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be easy.

Maybe it was just supposed to be real.

“You think I’ve got a chance?” Lando asked, half-joking, half-serious.

Oscar smiled.

“You’ve already got one,” he said. “You’re just too scared to believe it.”

Lando sat back, heart thudding a little too fast, a little too hopeful.

Maybe he’d make an idiot of himself.

Maybe Emilie would laugh him off.

Maybe she’d crush him like a bug.

But maybe—maybe—he’d survive it.

And maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it.

***

Instagram Direct Messages: Lando Norris & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: So.

Emilie: I noticed you liked a little throwback.

Emilie: From 2019, no less. Deep cuts.  Impressive research skills.

Emilie: You know, you could’ve just asked me to dinner.  Would’ve been less creepy than liking my bikini photos at 2 a.m.

Emilie:  (But I guess this way was more entertaining.)

Emilie: You still can ask, by the way. If you’re brave enough.

Lando: Would you maybe want to have dinner with me? Without bikinis. I mean you can wear one if you want but not like a requirement— This is going badly.

Emilie: I’m free Thursday. Pick somewhere good.

Emilie: And try not to like any more photos from my past while you’re planning it.

Emilie: Or do. It’s cute. In a tragic way.

Lando: Bold of you to assume I won’t.

Emilie: Bold of you to assume I’ll say yes if you like the duck-face selfie from 2017.

Lando: Challenge accepted.

Emilie: Challenge lost.

***

Text Messages: Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

Max Fewtrell: BRO. You saw it, right??  Charles fully crashed his soul mid-interview??

Lando: Unfortunately, yes. It was like watching someone remember they left the oven on... and also their sister.

Max Fewtrell: Iconic. Karun was like “her birthday, right?”  And Charles just downloaded a full panic attack.

Max Fewtrell: I screamed. Like—out loud. In public.

Lando Norris: It was kind of beautiful tbh. Like watching karma arrive with a mic and a production crew.

Max Fewtrell: Is his sister okay though? Do we know? Does she have a burner Twitter? I feel like she would.

Lando Norris:  She’s fine. Emilie’s with her.

Max Fewtrell: Who’s Emilie?

Lando Norris: ... She's Belle’s best friend.  Sharp. Dangerous. Possibly psychic. Says terrifyingly accurate things about my emotional state and then walks away in heels

Lando: She’s terrifying. Also brilliant.  And she’s like…scarily beautiful. 

Max Fewtrell: You have a crush on her, don’t you.

Lando: …I didn’t say that.

Max Fewtrell: YOU ABSOLUTELY DO OH MY GOD YOU DO This is the best gossip of the day and Charles had a meltdown on live TV

Lando: Shut up Also can we go back to Charles??

Max Fewtrell: No Because now I want to know why you know where Belle is And how you know Emilie’s with her And why you’re being so weirdly calm

Lando: …because I went to the wedding?

Max Fewtrell: THE WHAT

Lando: ...

Max Fewtrell: LAN THE WEDDING

Lando: Yeah. Belle and Max Verstappen. They got married. I was invited. Very small. City Hall. No media. Emilie picked the flowers

Max Fewtrell: MAX. VERSTAPPEN?!

Lando: Yes

Max Fewtrell:  YOU MEAN TO TELL ME CHARLES IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN ABOUT FORGETTING HIS SISTER’S BIRTHDAY AND DOESN’T EVEN KNOW SHE’S MARRIED TO HIS RIVAL???

Lando: Correct

Max Fewtrell: I need to lie down. And then I need popcorn And possibly therapy But also more of this

Lando: Same. Group chat is chaos Do not ask to be added It’s war in there

Max Fewtrell: This is better than Drive to Survive You’ve been sitting on this gossip for HOW LONG?

Lando: Long enough to know I value my life And Max Verstappen would kill me if I leaked it before they were ready

Max Fewtrell: Fair

Lando: You think Charles is spiraling now… Wait until he finds out Max is family now

Max Fewtrell: My god. This is better than Netflix.

***

Text Messages: Emilie Abadie & Lando Norris

Lando Norris

hey is belle okay?

Emilie: She will be. She’s hurting, but she’s strong. And she has Max. That helps. (And me, obviously. I threaten people on her behalf.)

Lando: yeah i’d be more scared of you tbh Lando:  but good Lando: she doesn’t deserve to feel that way Lando:  no one does

Emilie: this is very rude. I was not prepared for sincerity. Please warn me next time

Lando: sorry next time i’ll open with a meme but i meant it

Emilie: I know. That’s why I’m weirdly touched. Ugh. Gross. I hate this. Emotions are banned after 10pm.

Lando: it’s 9:58

Emilie: you’re on thin ice, Norris.

Lando: wouldn’t be the first time but thanks for telling me and tell her i said… i don’t know that i’m rooting for her and that she deserves  better brothers and maybe a pony idk what people say in these situations

Emilie: you’re doing fine she’ll appreciate it and so do I

Emilie: you’re a good guy, Lando.

Lando: 😳 wow ok i’m printing this and framing it

Emilie: Don’t push it. ***

The restaurant buzzed softly around them—quiet conversations, clinking silverware, candlelight glinting off glasses. It was the kind of cozy, tucked-away Monaco spot that felt private even when it was packed, the kind of place that made Lando loosen his shoulders for the first time in days.

Or, at least, it should have.

But honestly, Lando was too busy trying not to screw this up to relax.

Sitting across from Emilie Abadie—in a dim corner booth, with a bottle of wine between them and a shared plate of something fried—was more nerve-wracking than qualifying on a wet track.

She was devastating.

Not just in the obvious way, with her wild blonde hair and sharp mouth and the way she sipped wine like she was judging the entire country of France—but in the way she looked at him. Like she was trying to decide if he was worth the effort of knowing.

And God help him, he wanted to be worth it.

He was halfway through trying to come up with something clever when he saw her expression shift. Just a flicker—something hard and tight slipping across her face.

Lando followed her gaze.

Across the restaurant, standing up too fast, was Charles Leclerc.

And he was coming right for them.

"Uh," Lando said, sitting up a little straighter. "Is that...?"

"Unfortunately," Emilie said under her breath, setting her wineglass down with a soft clink.

Charles didn’t even hesitate. Just stormed across the room, panic practically pouring off him. He stopped at their table, ignoring Lando completely, and zeroed in on Emilie.

"Emilie," Charles said, voice tight, "we need to talk. About Belle."

Emilie didn’t even blink.

"I’m having dinner," she said coolly. "Sit down or leave."

Charles didn’t sit. He stood there, vibrating with panic and guilt and about four too many emotions for the room they were in.

“She posted a horse,” Charles burst out, voice climbing. “A horse! She never said anything! She’s still not answering me. You’ve seen her. You know. Why won’t you just—just tell me what’s going on?!”

Lando, still frozen in his seat, watched Emilie set her napkin down. Slowly. Precisely. Like she was a surgeon preparing for a very delicate operation.

Her smile disappeared.

And then—God help him—she destroyed Charles.

"You think you're owed answers now?" she asked, voice so sharp Lando actually felt it across the table. "After months of ignoring every warning sign? After standing in the same garage with her and looking through her like she wasn’t even real?"

Charles flinched.

Emilie leaned in slightly, not loud, but lethal.

"You want to know why she’s not answering you? Because you only want her when it’s convenient. When it fits your schedule. When it doesn’t mess up the perfect story you tell yourself about your family."

Lando sat back, eyes wide, utterly mesmerized.

He had seen Emilie be sharp before—sarcastic, teasing, merciless with Daniel’s cartoon ties—but this was something else.

This was fierce.

This was loyalty turned into a weapon.

And it was, without a doubt, the moment he realized he was completely screwed.

Because he wasn’t falling for her because she was pretty (although, let’s be honest, that wasn’t exactly hurting). He was falling because of this.

Because of the way she fought.

Because of the way she protected the people she loved like it was breathing.

Because he could see, in every word she threw like knives, how much Belle meant to her.

He had never wanted anything more in his life than to be someone Emilie Abadie fought for like that.

Charles opened his mouth, desperate, and Emilie cut him down again.

"You forgot her birthday," she said, each word a bullet. "And you think a few panicked phone calls are enough to fix that?"

Lando couldn’t even feel sorry for Charles at that point. Not really.

He was too busy being completely, absolutely undone.

"You don't love Belle the way you should," Emilie said, voice low and devastating. "You love the idea of her. The safe, quiet little sister who never asks for anything. Who never demands too much. Who lets you shine without ever threatening your light."

And there it was—the fatal blow.

Charles stood there like he had been hollowed out.

Good, Lando thought savagely.

He didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve Belle’s softness—or Emilie’s fury on her behalf.

Emilie, calm as anything now, lifted her glass again like she hadn’t just torn him to pieces.

"Now," she said, "go back to your table. Apologize to Alexandra. And maybe—if you’re lucky—figure out how to be someone your sister actually wants to let back in."

Charles didn’t even argue.

He just turned and walked away, a shell of himself.

The moment he was gone, the restaurant buzzed back to life like nothing had happened.

And Lando just sat there, staring at Emilie like she’d hung the moon.

Because this was what undid him, completely and without mercy:

Not the beauty. Not the sharp tongue. Not even the way she teased him into laughing at himself.

It was this.

It was the way she loved.

Fierce. Loyal. Uncompromising.

It was the way she stood her ground, sword drawn, in defense of someone who needed it.

It was the way she made it absolutely clear that you didn’t get to hurt people she loved without consequences.

God, he was in trouble.

Emilie caught him staring and arched an eyebrow, setting her wineglass down with practiced grace. "What?"

Lando blinked, scrambled for something to say, something that didn’t sound like I might be in love with you.

"That was," he said, voice a little hoarse, "the most badass thing I’ve ever seen."

A faint, real smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "He needed to hear it."

"He did," Lando agreed. Then, quieter, "And Belle’s lucky to have you."

Something flickered across Emilie’s face at that—something small and vulnerable and quickly hidden.

She picked up her glass again, studying him over the rim. "Careful, Norris. Say too many nice things and I might start thinking you mean them."

"I do," he said simply.

And this time, she didn’t roll her eyes. Didn’t mock him.

She just held his gaze, steady and assessing, like she was weighing whether he was telling the truth.

Whatever she saw must have satisfied her, because after a long beat, she said lightly, "Good."

She took a sip of her wine. Then, smiling like she hadn't just broken and remade his entire world in under five minutes, she leaned in closer.

"Now," Emilie said, "where were we before the drama?"

Lando couldn’t even remember.

All he could think about was how wildly, desperately he wanted to kiss her.

***

Emilie sat back in her chair, wine glass light between her fingers, and tried to act like her heart wasn’t pounding against her ribs.

Like Lando’s words hadn’t just cracked something wide open inside her.

Belle’s lucky to have you. I mean it.

She didn’t know what she had expected—maybe some teasing, maybe a joke to defuse the moment—but not that.

Not sincerity.

Not him.

She should’ve brushed it off. Should’ve quipped something scathing and easy, should’ve knocked the moment off balance before it could land. But she hadn’t.

Because something about the way Lando looked at her—steady, certain, real—had made her hesitate.

Careful, Abadie, she warned herself. You know better.

Boys said things they didn’t mean. Boys fell in love with ideas, not people. Boys liked her because she was shiny and sharp, not because they saw her.

And yet... Lando hadn’t looked at her like she was shiny.

He’d looked at her like she was something solid.

Like he saw the messy, brutal, fiercely protective parts of her—and didn’t want to flinch away.

It was terrifying.

It was worse than terrifying.

It was hope.

"Now," Emilie said, forcing her voice back into familiar, teasing steadiness as she leaned across the table, "where were we before the drama?"

Lando blinked at her, like he needed a second to remember where he was. It made something traitorous and warm flicker in her chest.

"Uh," he said, a little breathless, "I think I was telling you about the time I accidentally set a microwave on fire?"

Emilie let out a real, surprised laugh. "You did what?"

He grinned—wide and messy and self-deprecating—and just like that, the intensity between them loosened into something lighter. Still charged. Still humming just under the surface. But lighter.

"I was fifteen, okay," Lando said, leaning in, elbows on the table. "And I thought you could microwave foil. Spoiler alert: you cannot."

"Oh my God," Emilie said, actually laughing now. "You’re lucky you didn’t set the whole house on fire."

"Almost did," Lando said proudly. "My mum nearly murdered me."

He told the story with his whole body—hands flying, eyes bright—and Emilie listened, smiling in spite of herself, feeling the last shards of her ice defenses start to melt.

He’s dangerous, she thought distantly. And not for the reasons you’re used to.

He was dangerous because he wasn’t pretending.

Because he didn’t want her to be less. Or smaller. Or easier to love.

He wanted this version of her—the messy, complicated, fierce version—and it felt so new and so scary she almost didn’t know how to hold it.

Halfway through his story about the microwave (and the resulting three-day grounding), Emilie caught herself staring.

Caught herself wondering what it would be like to lean across the table and kiss him.

Idiot, she thought, draining the last of her wine to kill the impulse.

But even as she set the glass down, her hand brushed against his—just lightly, just by accident—and Lando froze.

The air between them tightened again. Not heavy. Not sharp. But electric.

His hand stayed where it was.

Waiting.

Not grabbing. Not pushing. Just waiting.

An invitation.

An if you want to.

Emilie’s chest squeezed so tight she could barely breathe.

She wasn’t used to boys who waited.

She wasn’t used to being wanted without being hunted.

Slowly—so slowly she barely let herself think about it—she turned her palm up and let her fingers brush his.

His hand closed gently over hers, warm and callused and careful.

And Emilie, against every rule she had ever made for herself, didn’t pull away.

***

The night air was cooler than the restaurant had been, crisp against Emilie’s skin as they stepped out into the narrow Monaco street.

 The world felt smaller out here—quieter, sleepier. The kind of night you could almost believe was magic.

Their hands brushed once, then again. And then—without speaking—Lando laced his fingers through hers.

Just like that.

No fuss. No dramatics. No careful maneuvering.

Like he’d been waiting for permission, and now that he had it, he wasn’t letting go.

Emilie let herself be pulled along, hand in his, heart hammering an unfamiliar rhythm against her ribs.

It was terrifying.

It was wonderful.

Neither of them said much as they walked. The occasional motorbike buzzed by; laughter floated out of the bars they passed. But between them—just a quiet hum of something new.

When they reached a corner where the street narrowed and the light hit just right, Lando slowed.

Emilie slowed too, their joined hands swinging slightly between them.

Lando glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

She caught the look—shy and reckless all at once—and her heart gave a traitorous thud.

"You’re quiet," he said, voice soft, like he was afraid to scare her off.

"Maybe I’m enjoying the peace," Emilie said lightly.

He smiled at that. Real and crooked. The kind of smile that made her want to hand over every sharp piece of herself without a second thought.

"You were incredible tonight," he said, after a moment.

Emilie huffed a laugh, looking away. "I was brutal."

"You were brilliant," Lando corrected. "You were exactly what Belle needed."

The words were so unexpected, so easy and true, that Emilie almost stumbled.

God, stop, she told herself. Stop falling faster.

But it was already too late.

When she looked back at him, Lando was still watching her with that same maddening, open expression. Like he liked her exactly as she was. All fire. All teeth. All soft, bruised, careful heart underneath.

They stopped under a streetlamp without meaning to.

It pooled gold light around them, softening the edges of everything. Making the world feel like it had shrunk to just this. Just them.

Lando’s hand tightened slightly around hers.

"Emilie," he said, and the way he said it—half a question, half a prayer—made something inside her crack open.

She should have said something sharp. She should have laughed it off.

Instead, she just lifted her chin and looked at him.

"Are you going to kiss me, Norris," she asked, voice deceptively cool, "or are you going to keep holding my hand like we’re on a third-grade field trip?"

Lando made a small, strangled noise that might have been a laugh—or a whimper—and then he was stepping closer, so close she could feel the heat of him.

"I’m working up to it," he muttered.

"You’re slow," Emilie said.

"You’re terrifying," Lando shot back, grinning.

And then—finally, finally—he kissed her.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t smooth or practiced.

It was messy and a little desperate and so real it nearly brought Emilie to her knees.

Lando kissed like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to. Like he wanted to be sure she knew she could push him away at any second—and like he was praying she wouldn’t.

And Emilie—fierce, guarded Emilie—kissed him back with all the reckless, terrifying hope she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying for years.

It was a soft, stumbling collision of mouths and laughter and fingers tightening on jackets—and it was, without a doubt, the most dangerous, precious thing Emilie had ever let herself have.

When they finally pulled apart, Lando rested his forehead lightly against hers, still holding her hand.

"You scare the shit out of me," he whispered, grinning.

"Good," Emilie whispered back.

But when he kissed her again—this time slower, sweeter—she let herself believe, for just one dangerous, dazzling second, that maybe she didn't have to be scary forever.

That maybe someone had finally seen her.

And wanted her anyway.

***

Text Messages: Max Fewtrell & Lando Norris

Lando: Bro. BRO. I’m going to throw up.

Max: ok congrats on what?? nervous breakdown? race win? what are we celebrating

Lando: i kissed her

Max: who

Lando: her

Max: MATE WHO

Lando: EMILIE

Max: WAIT wait wait wait BACK UP u kissed her??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN "I KISSED HER"???

Lando: we had dinner and i didn’t die and then she LET ME HOLD HER HAND and THEN SHE LET ME KISS HER

Max: mate i need a minute

 since WHEN were you even going on dates with her??? this is like finding out ur mate moved to another country and got married without telling u what do u mean you just had dinner casually WHEN WAS THIS PLANNED

Lando: it just happened kind of after i liked her 2019 bikini pic at 2am

Max: what the fuck

Max: YOU DID WHAT

Max: YOU DUMB IDIOT LEGEND

Lando: she slid into my dms after told me i could just ask her out next time instead of stalking her like a creep

Max: i’m crying i’m so proud u’re still an idiot but like a victorious idiot

Lando: i’m literally shaking bro like i kissed her and she kissed me BACK

Max: wtf and she didn’t mace you or slap you??? mate she might actually like you

Lando: i think she might

Lando: i’m gonna marry her

Max: ok buddy let’s aim for a second date first

Lando: i’m so fucked

Max: in the best way

[afterglowsainz]

yes, and? | max verstappen

summary: max’s impossible crush finally notice him, but he’s stuck in a pr relationship

fc: simone ashley

a/n: so i try something a bit different with this one and made it on the longer side (if you’ve listened to ariana’s song you know this is gonna be messy for sure) (also, simone ashley??? or the prettiest woman ever??? i’m obsessed with her)

—

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 life off track

view all comments

username i screamed cried and fainted

username second pic should be illegal

megan.galanis 🥰

username not the pr girlfriend 🙄

username omg let them live!

username they’re dating, get over it

username the third pic pls he’s so POOKIE

username number 1 stan of max’s thighs

username thirsting on main???

username PLS because how can you not ??

liked by maxverstappen1, bffusername and others

ynusername bridgerton press tour at it’s finest 💍

view all comments

username MOTHER

username you’re the prettiest woman alive😩

username yn just one chance please !

bffusername slayyyy

yourusername 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

jbayleaf viscountess activities😎

yourusername 🐝🐝🐝

username im in love with a woman i’ve never met

tiktok comments

username never took max for a bridgerton guy???

username not complaining tho

username max in his regency romance era🤭

username now i get why he’s always in y/n’s likes like damn i too would be obsessed after watching her on that show

ynusername thank you! <3

liked by scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1 and others

ynusername it’s the monaco grand prix! i never miss the grand prix🏁

view all comments

username yn and f1 my two passions❤️

username the way yn always serves cunt MUST be studied

bffusername is it? who’s playing?

username ohhh the reference i love them!

username gorgeous! 😍

username i’m in awe

maxverstappen1 🤣

liked by schecoperez, landonorris and others

maxverstappen1 P1 in Monaco🏆🇲🇨

view all comments

username the icon, the legend, the moment

username max verstappen, the only man ever🫶🏽

charles_leclerc nice one mate, congrats! 👊🏽

username no megan appearance, no like, no comment… are we out of the woods?

username oh wow, she didn’t go to 1 race, they obviously must have broken up 🙄

username no but seriously, did her contract ended or something?

username girl why are you so obsessed with their relationship? just leave them alone srsly

liked by megan.galantis, bffusername and others

f1gossippofficial max verstappen has been seen lately on multiple dates with actress y/n y/l/n around monaco

view all comments

username he’s been seen on WHAT

username with WHOM

username but… what about megan…

username what about her?

username never thought of y/n as a homewrecker

username never thought of max as a CHEATER!

username im not mad about this pairing tbh🤔

username megan liking this post and unliking it???

username and y/n’s best friend liking it also

username she’s so unserious

liked by bffusername, maxverstappen1 and others

ynusername moments📷

view all comments

username bestie who took the pics?👀

username don’t be shy you can tell us🤭

username THE PEOPLE’S PRINCESS

bffusername the most beautiful and pretty and talented and funny and smart and

ynusername i’ll marry you rn😩

username after those pics with max i can’t see her the same

username HOMEWRECKER

username haters gonna hate fr y/n i love you if you see this! 💕

maxverstappen1 🥰 (liked by ynusername)

username oh that’s not…

username this is so wrong in so many levels😭

liked by carlossainz55, ynusername and others

maxverstappen1 another successful weekend for the team, hopefully many more to come! 🇨🇦

view all comments

username “hopefully many more to come” as if we don’t know he’s gonna win all the races already

username being a red bull fan is sooo easy and fun i love it here

username i miss seeing megan in the paddock :(

username jesus christ who understands you, when she was there you hated on her and when she isn’t you miss her

username also, she just missed two races, like😭

username let’s goooo super max

redbullracing many more to come👊🏽

ynusername 🏎🏎 (liked by maxverstappen1)

username she really has no shame huh?

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others

ynusername yes, and?

tagged maxverstappen1

view all comments

username this was the last thing i expected when i open instagram

username pls the caption😭

username she’s NOT a serious person and i love her for it

username welcome back ariana grande😍

landonorris and my credits for the last picture?

ynusername props to you🙄

username hottest couple imo

username this post single handedly convinced me to watch her show

username it’s so good honestly!!

username yesss y/n and max bringing back messy celebrity couples we love to see it!

maxverstappen1 my one and only girlfriend you’re everything❤️

ynusername you’re too much love!💘

username not the “one and only girlfriend” !!

[heartmix]

Dear Santa - LH44

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x driver!reader

Word Count: 1.5k+

Warning: use of the word hell

Twelve Fics of Christmas - Wish List

A/N: today was the last race :(

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

The Red Bull social media team was certainly an interesting group of people. The amount of content they pumped out of you and Max was comical. Sometimes, a mindless video they made did numbers on TikTok. They somehow convinced Max to do whatever silly video they had planned. You, on the other hand, didn't mind the media aspect of the job. It was why you and Max sat in hospitality with Christmas-themed paper and red pens in front of you. 

"Are we writing letters to Santa?" Max asked eyeing out the team behind the camera. 

"Yup! Try to be honest with this one."

"I think we're the wrong demographic for this." You laughed, eyeing the candy cane border of the paper, as Max laughed beside you instantly picking up on what you were hinting at. 

"This isn't only for kids." a media personnel said.

"I wasn't talking in that sense." You smirked making Max bark out another laugh. "We cannot keep that in."

"Humor us, please." At that, you shrugged your shoulders, thinking, "Why not?" It was just a silly little video, and maybe it would keep the Santa mystery alive for kids who watched it. 

"I don't even know where to start." You really did try to think of things you wanted from 'Santa'. Could Santa gift you a Cartier Love Bracelet or a new car that you could drive and win every Sunday? 

Turning to Max you saw that he already started writing some stuff down. Why not write down some things you've been eyeing out on getting, not like it was going to get gifted to you. After about 10 minutes the team wrapped up the video saying it would do numbers when they released it during the off-season for Christmas. 

"Do I give this to you guys or?" You asked referring to the 'letter to Santa.'

"No you guys can take it." They said before bidding you a farewell. 

Since you had no pockets and there were no trash cans around you needed to carry it around for the majority of the day or until there was a trashcan. Throughout the day the letter went everywhere, meetings, data analysis, and more media content. Honestly, you forgot what the piece of paper was. Somewhere throughout the day, it was forgotten somewhere amidst all the chaos. Not that it was memorable in the slightest. 

The piece of paper was found in one of the outdoor catering areas. Lewis was looking for an open table to sit at and when he found one he found your list. At first, he was confused at the kiddy-looking paper, but upon closer examination, he saw that it belonged to you. It must have been for a video because why else would you be writing a wish list? To Santa no less. 

The more he read it, he couldn't help but feel a weird desire brewing inside him. The urge to buy all of the things on your list. Sure you could buy all of this for yourself and probably only wrote these things for whatever video they had you do, but he couldn't help but feel like you actually wanted these things and you were just too humble to get it for yourself. Why not gift them, after all, you deserved it for one hell of a season and just because of the warmth you brought to the paddock. 

When the week of Christmas rolled around you started cleaning your whole apartment to be ready for when your folks came. In the middle of it all the front desk rang you saying there were a plethora of packages waiting for you. To your knowledge, you didn't order anything and no one said they were bringing anything. 

"All of this is for you." The doorman gestured to the pill of bags on the trolly. What the actual hell was all of this?

"Umm, thanks." You said with a confused smile while you trailed it up the elevator.

When you got into your apartment, you recognized what all the bags were. They were all things from your wish list. This had to be some joke. Sure you revealed the list on the video, but there were a selected few who knew where you lived. No way Red Bull would get all of this, they weren't that nice. One by one you pulled the gifts out of the bag, part of you was curious but you honestly just wanted to find out if there was any clue as to who sent them. 

When you got down to the last bag it was a small box, still no sign of a card or hint. Opening the box it was a pair of keys, but not any keys, it was a set of Ferrari keys. There was absolutely no way someone gifted you the most expensive item on that list. This had to be someone who saw the list because they didn't allow you to say it in the video. A note was also in the box, your first clue as to who caused all of this. 

'Merry Christmas, come see your car' - L

L? Who the hell was L? Was L referring to a first or last name? It did not help with narrowing down people, there were plenty of people you knew who had L as their first or last name. Suddenly it clicked, 'come see your car'. There had to be someone waiting, the same someone who brought all these gifts. Quickly you rushed down, not forgetting the keys. Whoever the hell this person is was in for it. 

Rushing out of your apartment complex you looked around the streets for any sign of a Ferrari car. Unfortunately, this was Monaco so you'd have to go search for your specific car. It didn't take you long to find, with one click of the button of your car keys you heard the car at the end of the street. Rushing over you stopped in your tracks, not because of the beauty of the red car, but because of who was leaning against it. 

"Lewis?"

"Took longer than I expected." He said with a smirk sliding off the side of the car to come face to face with you. He took in your shocked expression and loved every second of it.

Still in disbelief and in the middle of processing everything you couldn't help but blurt out, "You're L?"

"Who else did you think it was?"

At that, there was no holding back anymore, "What are you doing? Are you crazy? Did you really get me every single thing on that list?" 

"It's just a little Christmas present." He shrugged like it was no big deal. It probably didn't even dent his bank account but the gesture was still extravagant. You wouldn't be surprised if Ferrari gave him the car for free. 

"How did you know I wanted a Ferrari? They didn't put that in the video?"

"Who said I did this because of the video?" Now you were back to being confused. If he didn't watch the video how did he know you wanted all of this? It was only then he held up a familiar piece of paper. No way.

"You found my list?"

"It's cute. I thought it was a fan's, but your name was signed at the bottom." He opened the folded paper to show that you indeed sign your name at the bottom of the heart. That part was forgotten about.

"It was just for a silly video."

"So you're telling me you don't like anything you got?" He challenged you, almost daring you to deny you didn't want it. He's been seeing the way you've been eyeing the car every few seconds. 

Letting out a sigh and a pout you confessed, "No no, I love everything, but Lewis you didn't have to do this."

"Well, I wanted to. You deserve all of this and I know you wouldn't get it for yourself. Too humble of a person." 

"I don't even know what to say, I mean I didn't get you anything. How can I ever repay you?"

"Well, there is one thing on my wish list." He hummed out. You were way too distracted to find out how to pay him back you didn't notice the grin that graced his lips. 

"What do you want? I swear I'll get it for you." At this point no matter how expensive or outlandish it was, he was getting his gift. 

"A date."

"A date?" 

"Yeah, with you." He couldn't be serious. Sure you both were great friends and he welcomed you with open arms when you started in F1, but there was no way you saw this coming. You didn't even think he looked at you in that sense. There was no denying that you weren't attracted to him, I mean he was THE Lewis Hamilton. 

"Are you serious?"

"You said you'd get me the last thing on my list and that's a date with you." Seeing as you weren't pulling away and there was a hint of amusement in your eyes he stepped forward taking your hand in his.

"Did you do all of this just to get a date out of me?" 

"Maybe." Now it was your turn to have a grin on your face. He's stupidly ridiculous but that's what's great about him. How could you turn him down?

"Well, how can I say no? I mean it's a fair trade." you hummed with a smile. He couldn't help the huge smile coming from his lips at the agreement. 

"Exactly. So why don't we take the car for a spin and call it our first."

[aparttimewriter]

the reporter

lando norris x webber!reader

summary: the daughter of mark webber and oscar’s childhood best friend, lands her dream job reporting for f1 on the grid. and her constant present around the mcalren garage catches the eye of lando

social media au ✨

📍 Bahrain 🇧🇭

y/nwebber

liked by aussiegrit, oscarpiastri, redbullracing and 456,231 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/nwebber: we are racing in bahrain ! i am so excited to announce that for the 2023 season, i will be an f1 tv correspondent on the grid

view all 12,321 comments

redbullracing: happy to see another webber on the grid

aussiegrit: so proud of my little girl you worked so hard for this ❤️

—y/nwebber: thanks dad xx

ferrarileclerc: y/n webber on the grid, as in f1 tiktok queen and mark webber’s daughter !!?

user213: just because her dad raced in f1, doesn’t mean she should be reporting on f1

mclarenboys: ahh yess !! y/n better get us more oscar content

marixxx: yes more women in motorsport !

oscarpiastri: f1 reporter or my personal photographer?

—y/nwebber: why not both 🤷‍♀️

y/nwebber posted to their story

📍Melbourne, Australia 🇦🇺

y/nwebber

liked by logansargent, oscarpiastri, aussiegrit and 323,5579 others

tagged: oscarpiastri, aussiegrit

y/nwebber: aussie aussie aussie, this girl is happy to be home x

view all 12,4577 comments

mclarenboys: y/n and oscar being bffs is so iconic!

logansargent: rare photo of oscar wearing clothes beside his mclaren stuff

—y/nwebber: i know i was shocked

— oscarpiastri: thanks for teaming up on me 😐

teampapaya: not logan and y/n bullying logan in the comments

redbullgirls: mark seems like he is the coolest dad

—y/nwebber: he’s about 10% cool 90% cringe

marixx: so excited to see y/n in the paddock this weekend

y/nwebber posted to their story

@landonorris liked your story

y/nwebber

liked by landonorris, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 523,456 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/nwebber: spent my weekend off at albert park

view all 10,588 comments

mclaren: happy to see you in the papaya colours

vettlechamp: seeing y/n webber in a mclaren garage feels wrong 😂

oscarpiastri: always have time for a photo with a fan

—y/nwebber: bet you are really proud of that joke

teamcharles: y/n is out there living my f1 dream

user231: so does she do any reporting, or just hang out in the paddock taking photos

landonorris: only one mclaren driver photographed…rude

—y/nwebber: had to pick my favourite

a/n: i finally decided to write a fic just for my lando girls, and honestly i’m so excited for it !

[reidsworld]

Beekeeping Age

Summary: Who knew having a crush on your best friends dad would turn out so good? Based on this request.

Pairing: Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Content Warnings: Age Gap (25 and 55), Secret Relationship, not proofread

Mars speaks... Thank you so much for the request, I'm sorry it took me so long to respond! Also I'm pretty sure his daughter is like 19 but for the sake of this, she's like 25 lol.

Masterlist

You and Ava had met in your first year of university. She was studying communications, and you were pursuing cinema, but your friendship clicked immediately. Movie nights turned into inside jokes, and your shared love for Formula 1 only solidified the bond. By the time you were finishing your degree, her house felt like a second home.

And her dad? Well, Hugh Jackman was always around, friendly and easy to talk to. Over time, your admiration for him began to grow into something more, though you’d never admit it out loud… until one day, a TikTok joke set things in motion.

“You know what we should do?” Ava said, sitting beside you on the living room floor, phone in hand.

“What?”

“This audio!” She played a popular audio on tiktok about beekeeping age.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Seriously? You wanna do that?”

“Come on, it’ll be hilarious,” she said, nudging you playfully. “Besides, half the world already has a crush on my dad.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

With a laugh, you both set up the shot. Ava played the part of the daughter, gushing over her dad’s wholesome bee-keeping hobby, while you delivered the punchline.

When you finished recording, Ava burst out laughing. “Oh my God, that was perfect.”

You laughed along, but you couldn’t help but feel the warmth creeping up your face. The joke hit a little too close to home. Ava raised an eyebrow, catching your expression.

“Wait…” she began, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You don’t actually—”

“What? No!” you quickly protested, but she kept laughing.

“Oh, come on. Everyone’s into him! I mean, he’s Hugh Jackman. It’s fine,” she teased.

You flushed but waved it off. She had no idea how much truth there was behind that joke.

A few days later, you found yourself chatting with Hugh after one of his early morning runs. You were both sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee in comfortable silence.

“Ava tells me you’re a big F1 fan too.” Hugh said, glancing over with a grin.

“Yeah, I’ve been obsessed for years,” you said, grateful for the change in subject. “I actually studied cinematography partly because I loved the way F1 races are filmed.”

Hugh’s eyes lit up with interest. “No kidding? I didn’t realize that’s what got you into it.”

You nodded, feeling more at ease. “I’ve always loved how dynamic the sport is—the speed, the angles, the tension.”

“Well,” Hugh said, leaning back in his chair, “speaking of F1, Ryan just gave me tickets to the next race with Alpine. I was thinking of taking Ava and… maybe you, if you’re interested?”

Your eyes widened in excitement. “Wait, really? You’re inviting me to watch the race from the garage?”

He chuckled at your reaction. “Absolutely. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.”

The race weekend was a dream come true. Standing in the Alpine garage, so close to the action, was something you’d always fantasized about. Hugh was at your side, just as enthusiastic, and you found yourself growing more comfortable around him. As the weekend progressed, your conversations flowed effortlessly—from F1 to films to life, and everything in between.

By the end of the trip, there was an undeniable connection between the two of you. You couldn’t help but feel that spark.

What started as innocent conversations turned into something more over time. Hugh would call or text you when he wasn’t busy, and the two of you found more excuses to spend time together. Coffee runs became long walks, and movie nights became opportunities to hang out alone. It wasn’t long before you realized your feelings for him were deeper than a crush.

The sneaking around was thrilling, but it also felt right. You and Hugh kept things under wraps for a while, not wanting to complicate your friendship with Ava.

One evening, you were relaxing on the couch, scrolling through TikTok when an edit of Hugh popped up on your feed. It was a compilation of his movie moments, and you couldn’t help but smile at how good he looked in each clip. As the video played, you whispered to yourself, “He really is amazing…”

You didn’t notice Hugh walk into the room until he chuckled from behind you. Startled, you looked up, realizing he’d seen the reflection in your glasses.

“Why watch videos when you have the real thing right here?” he teased with a playful smirk.

You blushed, embarrassed. “I—uh, I wasn’t—”

But he just laughed and sat down beside you. “It’s alright. Still nice to know I’ve got some fans out there.”

Eventually, you both knew you couldn’t keep the relationship a secret forever. The guilt was starting to weigh on you, and Ava had always been too important to lie to.

Sitting in the kitchen one afternoon, you glanced at Hugh nervously. “I think it’s time we tell Ava.”

He nodded, though he looked just as apprehensive. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

You sat down with Ava, your heart pounding in your chest. “Ava, I need to talk to you about something important.”

She looked up from her phone, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s going on?”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hugh before speaking. “I’ve been seeing someone… and it’s your dad.”

Her eyes widened, and the room fell silent. You could see the surprise and confusion on her face as she processed what you had said. The tension in the air was thick as you braced yourself for her reaction.

“This is… really weird,” she finally said, rubbing her forehead, “but I still love you guys. I guess I just wasn’t expecting that.” She looked between the two of you, a small smile forming. “Just treat him well, alright?”

Relief washed over you as the tension melted away. You hadn’t known what to expect, but Ava’s acceptance lifted a weight off your shoulders.

“I promise,” you said with a smile.

Mars speaks... Thank you for reading, any and all feedback is always appreciated 🫶

[cheriladycl01]

Qatar Heat - Grid x Driver! Reader

Plot: Everyone has a hard time at the Qatar GP, most needed medical attention once the race finished, some drivers retired and some continued even though they threw up in their helmets. What happens when the female of the grid, who already struggles with body temperature regulation finishes the race?

It was Thursday, which was media day in Qatar which meant that right now you were walking round the paddock in shorts and your Aston Martin Team top.

"Lance, hey are you okay?" You ask your team-mate. You'd known him since last year as the reserve driver for Aston Martin, Seb wanted you to take his place after retirement.

"Yeah, its just so hot. And Henry's still making me do training" he complains.

"I know but think we got the ice bath's later!" you grin excited to have the ice bath. After a hot day of training it was like a reward. So you did your ball exercises and you did a track run for the media team. Afterwards you were about to lay down on the track ground but it was blistering when you put your hand to it.

"Tires are gonna get shredded" you complain a little out of breath to Jessie your personal trainer.

"Can we go get water and smoothies now?" You ask and Sid one of the media guys who had followed you around today nods. You guys get out of the sun before running into the garage and collecting as many people's orders from the garage as you can.

You bring everyone back what they wanted on a tray. Sid filmed you the whole time, so he could upload it to the Tik-Tok saying that the new Aston Martin waitress is pretty cool. And another one joking that you can always fall back on waitressing if F1 falls through which you found hilarious.

"Okay, Lance Y/N. Ice bath time!" Mike Krack informs you both. You go into your driver room changing into your bikini that'd you'd brought with you. You pull the Aston Martin polo back over, feeling as though it would be odd to walk out the back of the motorhome in a bikini.

You see the cameras on you and immediately smile. You go up very close to the camera.

"Hi guys, i felt awkward coming out in just my bikini so Aston Martin Representation!" you whisper before stepping back and poking your thumbs at your top to show them what you were talking about, as if it wasn't obvious.

Looking to your left, Lando, Oscar, Alex and Logan were also all doing icebaths out the back of the motorhome too.

"Looking good boys" you shout after wolf whistling in their direction, they all laugh having finished their icebaths coming over to you and Lance.

"Come on" Alex gestures you towards the ice bath. You roll your eyes pulling the top over your head and passing it to Alex, he steps back looking at the other three boys who are shamelessly staring at you.

You were the current youngest on the grid. 21 years old, so Oscar, Logan and Lando all took a liking to you, not only because of the age similarities but because of your sense of humor.

"Ready Lance, you ask your team-mate whose shirt was just pulled off and handed to Mike who was helping the social media team.

"Lets make this interesting. First to fully submerge wins"

"That's not exactly fair your from Canada...okay your on" you shout and before anyone can blink your jumping into the ice bath. Your up to your thighs before you watch as Lance starts to sink down. Not even thinking about the cold you just force your whole body down. You can feel the cold all around your hair as it floats up and you can feel the cold water on your eyelids.

You come back up with a gasped breath before looking over at all of them.

"Who won, it was me right?" you say with your eyes blown wide as Lance emerges.

"Yes, but your fucking crazy" Lando laughs looking at the smile that comes across your face.

"Hahaha Suck that Stroll! I win" you say looking over at him.

"Ohhh you know what we should do" you say looking over at the camera that was still pointed at you.

"We should do a thirst trap of me, so people can edit me on TikTok!" you exclaim and Oscar chokes, while Logan and Land laugh as your started to lean back in the bath, running your hands through you hair.

"Y/N how many times have we talked about this" Your PR manager exclaims trying to stop the admins from filming.

"Oh come on its what they want!" You exclaim.

After that night, you went out for food, a healthy meal of course that Lance payed for as the looser of the bet.

Friday First Practice was good, you'd come in 4th just behind the two Ferrari's and Max.

Qualifying was just as good, you were starting in 4th next to Lewis, with George and Max ahead of you for Sunday's race and that was locked in. It was exhausting, you were boiling but you pushed. Lance was angry with the car performance and got angry at Henry, you were shocked to see and hear what happened when you were still driving and scolded Lance, before nearly fainting from being dizzy.

Again, you did the ice bath dinner and slept.

Now to focus on Saturdays sprint. You did well in the first two sprint shoot outs. But ended up retiring the car in Q3, starting in 9th position.

You were so faint for the whole race. Today, it was hotter than all the other days. Your fireproof felt more clingy to your skin than usual and the water in the car was heating up quicker than it normally did.

At one point during the sprint race the water was so disgusting to drink you actually spat it out in your helmet on reflex.

You finished in 8th gaining 1 point for the team who congratulated you. You stayed in the car as you pulled into the garage for a minute before you stripped of in the garage down to tank top and your underwear. You sat on the cold garage floor, head in your hands as you panted, looking for breath.

A team member brought an orange juice up to you, tapping you on the shoulder to which you shake there hand and thank them for the gesture.

You sip it slowly, not wanting to gag like you had before.

"How you doing sweetheart" Mike comes up to you, everyone in the garage had reported to him, how red and beat up you look coming out the car. You look at him and nod.

"It's always been harder for me" you laugh looking up at him wiping the sweat from your forehead before it falls down into your eye.

"What do you mean?" he asks crouching down so he's at a similar level to you.

"I mean, you've probably never checked my medical papers right. And women struggle with heat more than men anyway but my body doesn't regulate its temperate that well... so I've always struggled with being hot in the car but this is next level" you sigh to him.

"Are you going to be okay to race. We can get Drugovich to fill" Mike says concern filling his face as he can tell your struggling from the speech pattern and labored breathing.

"No i promise I'll be okay and I'll bring us home points" you smile.

I'm going to go congratulate Oscar on his Sprint win. You smile before holding you hand out for help. He helps you up and you trot over to Mclaren pulling the taller male into a hug the minute you see him.

"You did amazingly Ozzie" you grin, still holding onto him.

"Hey! I did well as well" Lando interrupts and you roll you eyes before turning to look at the man baby behind you.

"Yes yes, well done on P3 Lando Norris" you grin pulling him towards you and hugging him. He hugs you back before lifting you and squeezing you making you groan at the harshly shown affection that you were used too.

"How you feeling about tomorrow starting P4?"

"I'm hoping for a podium with my boys" you grin, pulling them both in, one arm round each of them.

"With us starting P6 and P10. I doubt that" Oscar groans, knowing he stuffed up Qualifying the other day, along with his team mate.

"Never say never. Tomorrow's going to be a hard race for everyone"

Sunday was the day that everyone struggled as you'd said.

Max actually ended up crashing out, and after coming back on the track, the car didn't have the pace it had from the start of the weekend.

"Come on Y/N, win in rookie season will look amazing. Keep holding. You've got Oscar behind 2.3 seconds gaining and Lando behind him. 3 laps left" you engineer inform.

"Guys the heat's really getting to me" you voice but its barley recognizable through the radio.

"Not long left, just push until the end" the engineer says but his voice waivers, he could tell you were struggling but unlike Logan who retired early on, lap 40 and with only three laps left there was no point especially when you were this close to a win.

"I - I know" you waiver, you control the car, speeding up trying to get this done as quickly as possible.

Martin Bundle - AND IN HER ROOKIE SEASON Y/N Y/L/N IS THE WINNER OF THE 2023 QATAR GRAND PRIX

"Guy's I need to get out this car now" you cry, tears forming in your eyes.

"Okay copy that"

"I cant move" you cry, the only thing that was able to move from your body was your hands which were shaking.

"We're sending pit crew to help" your engineer says. You see race marhsalls come up to your car, where Oscar and Land pull up alongside you. They both jump out hugging their team who were stood their waiting for them both. They turn to congratulate you thinking you'd be there next to them with the Aston Martin team but see you still sat in the car.

"Oh my god, she's shaking" Oscar says looking closer at you.

"She's in shock, from the heat" Lando says running over Oscar behind him.

"Y/N hey hey hey. Its okay its okay" Lando says flicking up your visor so he could see you. He honestly could have cried at the sight. He saw you looking so exhausted and out of it, the tears in you eyes and the sweat underneath them mixed.

"Come on baby lets get you out" Oscar voices, pulling Lando back by the shoulder and leaning down into the car, putting his arms under your knees and the other behind your back before lifting and pulling you out the car.

"Can we get a cold towel over here" Lando shouts which makes your head dizzy. Oscar sits you on the car wheel, pulling your helmet off, and then your balaclava. You were extremely red in the face but he still thought you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

So did Lando, he had for a while, and he would always flirt with you when you were the reserve Aston Martin driver. But he cared for you, and seeing you like this pulled at his heart strings.

"You did so well today darling" he compliments. He pulls back your hair that was sticking to your face, doing it in a low bun so it wasn't tight but was out of your face and off your neck.

Lando unzips your race suit, pulling it down off your shoulders so your in your fireproof top before laying the cooling towel around you neck.

"Just breath" he smiles at you handing you and Oscar an icy bottle of water than was handed to him by his team. They got you to the cool down room where you sat on the floor with your back against the wall and your cheek resting on the cold marble.

"Great race guys. Said I'd have a podium with my... my boys" you smile, before you feel the urge to throw up. You get on your knees grabbing the bin before spilling the food you'd eaten before the race into the bin. Oscar sits next to you rubbing your back.

"Come on lets go get weighed" Lando sighs. Oscar goes first, the you and Lando watches the figure seeing you'd lost a whole 6 kilograms which meant that you'd lost 9 over the whole weekend. He, Oscar and Logan would all have to go out for a big meal to all put the weight back on.

The podium was amazing, first place and sharing a podium with Lando and Oscar had never felt better. It was a shorter podium as they wanted all of you to seek medical attention. You were eventually declared to have heatstroke and were forced on home rest in a nice a/c-ed room and lost of Peach Ice Tea's.

One thing for sure was you never wanted to race in Qatar as this time of the year again.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle

[keykoso]

Formula 1 drivers as High School students

To spark some creativity and to practice drawing faces I challenged myself to draw all the current and some retired F1 drivers as if they where high school teachers or students for my F1 spiderman AU. So let's start from the begging.

The Seniors

Max Verstappen: A little bit of information on Max. He sits outside the music classroom because the piano music calms him down but he always leaves before Charles exists the room because doesn’t want to admit that he enjoys it. Max has big anger issues and a talent for boxing. Because Daniel, as the PE teacher, noticed that Max was potential he gave Horners number. Daniel was Horner’s pupil back in the days but they had a falling out. However Daniel knows that only Horner can shape up Max to his full potential. In this AU Horner has a boxing school.

Charles Leclerc: Charles has the best face card in school but his fashion sense is his downfall. Also Charles was bleached tips (00s vibes). Also also Charles is convinced that Artur started that rumor but Arthur pleads innocent. Lando is having the best time in the world because of that.

Lance Stroll: Lance is like the super rich but Esteban sees the real him, this introverted kid that just wants peace and quiet. Lance adores Estebans non stop talking that is way they are always sitting together at school assembly and at lunch. Basically, Lance let's Estaben do the talking.

Estaben Ocon: Esteban is the go to guy at school if you need any help especially if you can’t reach something.

The Juniors

Oscar Piastri: Oscar is the Spiderman of my f1 spiderman au. He has the personality of Andrew Garfield Spiderman. Smart smart kid. Lando is always copying homework from him. Hamiltons favorite student. Lewis looks out for Oscar because he sees that the kid has brains but for some reason the brightest pupil is always sleeping in his English class. Oscar noticed that Alonso is interested in him, but his spidey sence is saying that something is up whit him. So as the story progresses Oscar is keeping a distance from his science teacher. However, Lando works for Alonsos lab so that makes it complicated because Oscar wants to protect his best friend

Lando Norris: Lando has this Harry Osborn portrayed by James Franco vibes. HE IS NOT THE GREEN GOBLIN in my au. I'm sorry but I will not hurt my precious baby. The class clown who's always dragging Oscar along with his pranks and antics.

Yuki Tsunoda: The short kid with anger issues. Car guy, always talking about them and dreams about owning a Nissan Skyline car. Has a mood board for his dream cars. If you missed a school fight he's the guy whit the tea.

Logan Sargeant: The exhange student. Keeps it to himself. Only here for one year. Oscar befriended him at science class.

The Sophomores

Liam Lawson: The Lightning McQueen kid, he's the type for guy that would do anyting to be popular and play the guitar to the girls on there first date. Barbie movie reference. An if anything happens to him, Liam runs to the teacher to complain about it. If any of the school teachers see him coming they start running away.

Franco Colopinto: The girls guy, absolute romantic, can get away with anything because he knows how to smooth talk his way out of trouble. However, for some he disappeared for a period of time. Nobody knows here he went. But when he got back Franco acted as if nothing had happened.

Jack Doohan: Because Jack wants to be tiktok famous he shaved his head in the school bathroom while Liam filmed it. It did go viral and he got called to the principals office. Also Jack is like the biggest sunshine and I alot of girls adore him but he's clueless why that is, so he usually never notices the attention he gets.

The Freshmans

Kimi Antonelli and Ollie Bearman they met in preschool. Oli was dressed as a bear for halloween and because he was already the tallest kid in class Kimi really thought that Oli was a bear. Of course the teacher had to explain to Kimi that that’s just a costume. Since then they’ve become friends. Oli always laughs at that moment and Kimi as a shut up gift have Oli a teddy bear that he keeps in his locker. Also Lando believes that Oli and Kimi will become the next pranksters after he and Oscar graduates. That’s why George is absolutely terrified and tries to befriend the younger freshman so that we could discipline from the start. However, the fact that Kimi for some reason has a get out of jail card from Toto him and Oli absolutely abuse this power. Lando noticed that and is super jealous because he’s always sitting in detention.

Gabriel Bortoleto: Gabriel and Oli got drunk together and forgot that they have an exam at Alonso’s science class. Fernando understood that the boys were shit faced but he pretended not to notice Oli sitting in class with sunglasses and drinking energy drinks while Gabriel was as pale as a paper sheet.

Isack Hadjar: because he was this foreign accent he got confused with Logan and was placed in the junior class. Nobody even questioned his existence but Yuki noticed that Isack is absolutely lost at the curriculum. Isack explained that he’s not the exchange student and after lunch break he was back with the freshman. That’s the story how Isack befriended Yuki.

NEXT PART - THE TEACHERS

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (2/2) | two string bathing suit

୨ৎ : featuring : kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, yuki tsunoda, isack hadjar, liam lawson, and lance stroll (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1!boyfriend reacting to you showing him two strings as a bathing suit (tiktok trend - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : romance comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 1706

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : lance stroll has been officially added as per request >.<

ʚ・kimi antonelli

you peeked around the corner into the hotel room, barely holding in your laughter. kimi was lounging on the bed, headphones on, scrolling his phone with that focused little frown he always wore when he was pretending not to care.

“kimi,” you called sweetly, hiding the tiny bundle of yarn behind your back. “got my race weekend bikini for the yacht. wanna see?”

he looked up instantly. “yeah, sure.”

you stepped out.

and revealed it.

kimi sat up like someone had just smacked him with a steering wheel. his eyes locked on the two limp strings dangling from your hand. there was a long silence. he looked personally attacked.

“…that’s it?”

you nodded, holding it up like a trophy. “cute, right?”

his entire face turned red. “that’s not—where’s the rest of it?!”

“this is it. full coverage.” you twirled it dramatically. “very ‘high fashion.’”

kimi blinked so hard you thought he might pass out. “i can’t handle this.”

you burst out laughing. “so you hate it?”

“i—no! i mean, it’s not like—it’s just—” he ran a hand through his hair, face burning. “that’s barely string! you can’t wear that!”

“but what if i did wear it?”

he stared at you, scandalized. “you’d cause an incident. i’d get black-flagged emotionally.”

you walked closer, waving the bikini in front of him. “so you wouldn’t let me wear it?”

“i’d let you wear it in a locked vault, maybe,” he muttered, grabbing a pillow and burying his face in it.

you flopped beside him on the bed, laughing as he groaned dramatically. “you’re evil.”

“you’re dramatic.”

“i’m right. that’s not a bikini, that’s a cry for help.”

ʚ・ollie bearman

you strutted into the hotel room like you were doing a runway walk, holding a suspiciously small bag in one hand. ollie was mid-bite of a granola bar, half-watching some race replay on the tv.

“babe,” you said sweetly. “i got a new swimsuit for the weekend.”

he looked up with zero hesitation. “show me.”

you reached into the bag and slowly, dramatically, pulled out two strings.

that was it.

just… two strings.

ollie blinked. “ha-ha. okay. where’s the rest of it?”

“this is it.”

his mouth opened. no words came out.

you held it up. “don’t you like it?”

he made a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh. “i—yeah, of course i do, you look amazing in anything, but babe. babe. i can see my future falling apart.”

you walked closer, biting back a smile. “so you do like it.”

“i like it in the way that i like setting things on fire. fun, but dangerous. for my health.”

he rubbed his hands over his face. “you’re gonna kill me. actually kill me. like, emotionally and legally. i’m gonna go to jail because of that bikini.”

you stepped even closer, brushing the string against his arm. “what if i wore it to the hotel pool?”

he made a noise. loud. “i’m calling security. you need to be escorted back into real clothes.”

you burst out laughing. he looked at you, wide-eyed and flushed, then grinned. “you know what? wear it.”

you blinked. “wait, what?”

he leaned in with a cocky little smirk. “wear it. but only if you let me be your lifeguard.”

you blinked harder. “ollie—”

“you’re gonna need saving,” he winked. “from me.”

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

you stepped into the hotel room like you were about to drop a bomb. yuki was curled up on the couch in a hoodie, munching on chips and half-watching a replay of his onboard camera.

“babe,” you said, holding up a suspiciously flat little package. “new bikini just came in.”

without looking up: “yeah? show me.”

“that’s not a bikini,” he said carefully, like he was speaking to a wild animal. “that’s—no. no. what?”

you held it up. “it’s trendy!”

“it’s thread,” he hissed, standing up like the strings offended him on a spiritual level. “that’s not clothes. that’s… dental floss in distress!”

you fought a grin. “i think it’s cute.”

“you think crime is cute?”

you walked closer, holding it up to your body with a mock pose. “so i can’t wear it to the pool?”

yuki stared at you for three full seconds. “if you wear that to the pool, i will fake an injury to stay in the room and make sure no one else sees you.”

“that’s a little dramatic.”

“you’re dramatic! what happens if it unravels? what happens if there’s a breeze?!”

you giggled, reaching for his hoodie drawstrings and tugging him toward you. “you’re panicking.”

“i’m not panicking,” he said firmly. “i’m just… concerned. deeply. as a boyfriend. and a citizen.”

you tilted your head. “so i can’t wear it?”

he sighed, long and slow, then muttered something under his breath in japanese that definitely included the word “dangerous.”

then he looked up at you with wide, slightly desperate eyes. “you can wear it. inside. with the curtains closed. while i hold the emergency blanket just in case.”

you grinned. “so you do like it.”

“i never said that,” he huffed, pulling you into his hoodie-covered arms. “i said i need time to emotionally recover.”

ʚ・isack hadjar

you barely got two steps into the hotel room before isack glanced up from his phone.

“what’s that look?” he asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

“i got a new bikini,” you said innocently, holding up a little mesh bag.

he scoffed, lounging back on the bed. “are you going to show me something i haven’t seen?”

you pulled it out.

two strings. two. one knot. a whisper of fabric. that’s it.

there was silence.

then:

“mon dieu.” he shot upright like he’d been electrocuted.

you tried to stifle your laugh. “it’s couture!”

“that’s not couture, that’s catastrophe.” he was already pacing. “who sold you this? who approved this?! was it made by… criminals?”

he grabbed a pillow and threw it onto the bed dramatically. “you want to wear this? in public?!”

you shrugged. “maybe.”

he clutched his chest like you had physically wounded him. “do you hate me? is this a test? is this revenge for that time i forgot your fries?”

you walked toward him, bikini still dangling from your fingers. “so… you don’t want me to wear it?”

he blinked. hesitated. swallowed.

“okay,” he said, exhaling. “you can wear it. but only if i walk ten feet behind you with a stick to chase away the men.”

“romantic,” you teased.

“i will fight for your honor.”

you leaned in, brushing a kiss to his cheek. “you’re such a drama queen.”

he glared at the swimsuit one more time, muttering in rapid french about “scandals” and “yarn” and “the end of society.”

then: “…but you would look hot in it. i’m not blind.”

ʚ・liam lawson

“what’s going on,” he asked immediately. “you’re doing that face. the chaos face.”

“i bought a new bikini,” you said sweetly, holding up a very small, very questionable package.

he raised an eyebrow. “why does it look like you bought it from a fishing supplies store?”

you opened it.

and dropped the strings onto the bed.

liam stared at the two strands of fabric like they had personally betrayed him. then looked at you. then back at them.

“…cool,” he said finally. “so you’ve given up on fabric entirely. that’s where we are.”

you smirked. “it’s fashion.”

“it’s fabricophobia.”

“minimalist.”

“no, missing.”

you picked it up, twirled it around your finger. “so i can’t wear it on the yacht?”

he squinted. “you could. you might also get arrested. or knighted. i’m not really sure how monaco works anymore.”

you walked closer, holding it up to your body like it was an award. “you don’t think i’d look good?”

“oh no, you’d look phenomenal. that’s the problem.” he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall like he was considering relocating to another dimension. “if you wear that, i’m gonna have to fight like four yacht guys named jean-luc.”

you laughed, and he tilted his head, smiling.

“you’re a menace,” he said fondly. “but like… a hot one.”

“so you’re letting me wear it?”

“yeah. just tell me when and where so i can book a one-way flight off this planet.”

you stepped closer. “aw, are you jealous?”

he raised a brow. “i’m prepared. there’s a difference.”

you grinned. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

“cool. can’t wait to explain to security why i’m tackling people at the hotel pool.”

ʚ・lance stroll

you walked into the villa with a sleek little shopping bag in hand and a suspicious sparkle in your eye. lance was lounging on the sofa, drink in hand, sunglasses still on indoors like the heir to a fashion dynasty.

“i got something for the yacht,” you said sweetly.

he didn’t even look up. “is it another bathing suit? you have like thirty.”

“yep. except this one is perfect, i do wish it was smaller though.”

“nice. lemme see.”

you pulled it out.

he did a double take so fast his sunglasses nearly flew off.

“…you want this…smaller?” he sat up slowly. “no, seriously. where’s the rest of it?”

you held up the two strings like they were trophies. “trendy, right?”

“that looks like something my grandma’s cat coughed up.”

you grinned. “but imagine me wearing it. on the yacht.”

“i am imagining it. that’s the problem.” he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the “swimsuit” like it owed him money. “there’s gonna be fifty people on that boat. i’ll have to throw them all off.”

“you’re being dramatic.”

“i’m being realistic.”

you giggled, walking over to stand between his knees. “so you’re saying no?”

lance stared at you for a long moment. then he nodded.

“alright,” he said, completely serious. “we’re going to mars.”

you blinked. “what.”

“you wanna wear that? fine. i’ll buy us a spaceship.”

you burst out laughing, but he was still just looking up at you, shaking his head like you’d genuinely broken something in him.

“you’re out here in two pieces of string and a prayer, and i’m supposed to cope?”

“so… you do think i look hot.”

“oh, absolutely,” he said, pulling you into his lap with a sigh. “but i’m rich enough to not share. so start packing. spacesuits only.”

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

[lancestrollsgf]

# THE BETTER NORRIS ! F1 GRID X ADOPTED NORRIS! READER, SMAU (2)

introduction master list request list

part one, part two, part three.

# WARNINGS: cussing, i know nothing about the parents of lando so everything is fictional. reader speaks spanish!! lowercase intended, spelling errors (english isn't my first language). lando's actual siblings are not featured in this since I don't know anything about them. hate comments towards reader and ollie. excessive usage of emojis such as "🙄, 🤫, 🤣,😝, 😭,😊,😉”.

# SUMMARY: the adventures of the formula one driver lando norris adopted sibling, y/n norris.

# AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you so much for the support on the first part (it’s insane love yall sm). so here is part two, hooray!!! here is part one!!! lowkey worried this isn’t gonna be as good as the first part i'm so sorry 😭😭 this is way shorter because the timeline is until before the hungarian gp so there isn’t much to post about (there will be a part three 🤫🤫) btw for the sake of the story ollie attends all the grand prixs (at least from this point foward). excuse. more in-depth reason this is short is because i started writing this july 11 and i didn’t expect the first part to get that many likes so i only came up with ideas up until after the british grand prix. the next part will have all 9 posts and not only 5 😘

# FACE CLAIM: marian guevara/theatomicbomb on instagram and tiktok

— instagram !

liked by landonorris, lancestroll, lawerence_stroll, and 1,284,820 others

thebetternorris thank you so much, @.astonmartinf1 for the invite to the british grand prix, my home grand prix. i’m so grateful for the gift, thank you @lawerence_stroll 💚. congrats to @.landonorris for p3 and congrats to @.lancestroll for p7 😝😝 👤: @.landonorris, @.lancestroll, @.tommyhilfiger @.astonmartinf1

astonmartinf1: thank you y/n for coming to our garage!! loved having you there 💚

-> mclaren: you better have enjoyed this grand prix because next one we’re keeping y/n.

-> thebetternorris: guys dw there’s enough of me to go around 😏😏

username42: y/n rizzing up the admins is crazy 😭

landonorris: did you really have to use that picture of me. i look horrible.

-> thebetternorris: you always look horrible 🙄🙄

lancestroll: still can’t believe my dad actually got you something.

-> thebetternorris: time to make room for me in the family 🤫🤫

fernando_alooficial: gracias por venir y apoyarnos y/n 💚 (thank you for coming and supporting us y/n)

-> thebetternorris: de nada fernando, tu eres mi idolo 🥹🥹 felicidades con p8 💚 (you’re welcome fernando, you’re my idol 🥹🥹 congrats with p8 💚)

lawerence_stroll: lovely meeting you y/n, hope you enjoyed my gift

-> thebetternorris: thank you so much for the gift, lovely meeting you too mr.stroll

-> lawerence_stroll: @thebetternorris please call me lawerence

-> thebetternorris: @.lancestroll your dad likes me more than you

-> lancestroll: @thebetternorris just because he let you call him by his first name doesn't mean get likes you more 🙄 it’s not like he bought you an f1 team

-> thebetternorris: @.lancestroll you're so sassy...

username43: lance's reply being “it’s not like he bought you an f1 team” IS SO FUNNY LMFAOOO

username44: lance and y/n acting like siblings 😭

-> thebetternorris: @lawerence_stroll please adopt me

username45: y/n is so pretty

username46: why did lawerence gift y/n something from tommy hilfiger?

-> username47: im guessing its because he invests in tommy hilfiger

username48: how come aston martin invited her to her home grand prix but not mclaren?

-> mclaren: unfortunately we sent the invitation too late

-> astonmartinf1: @.mclaren finder keepers looser weepers 😝

username49: even though y/n is one of the driver's siblings they still sent the invitation late LMFAO

-> mclaren: we wouldn't have had to sent an invite if "someone..." hadn't told y/n so late.

-> landonorris: @.mclaren I DIDN'T KNOW SHE WOULD GET AN INVITE FROM ANOTHER TEAM 😞

username50: the mclaren admin trying to clear their name ✊🏼

-> mclaren: i’m trying my best 😞

username51: y/n giving unseen photos of lance and lando

username52: y/n’s camera is probably full of unseen photos of drivers we may never see 😔

-> thebetternorris: 🤫🤫

-> username53: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN??

username54: y/n calling it her home grand prix 🥹

zhouguanyu24: thank you for the keychain and the toy for sweet corn 😁

-> thebetternorris: of course!! 😊

username55: lance and lando an underrated duo

view all 9,921 comments

july 7, 2024

liked by landonorris, itsyoungmiko, olliebearman, and 1,402,027 others

thebetternorris parties in london go crazyy 🍾👤: @.itsyoungmiko, @.arcangel, @.friend1, @.friend2

itsyoungmiko: it was lovely meeting you twin 😈

-> thebetternorris: lovely meeting you too 😘

landonorris: do you just take photos with random people.

-> friend1: lando we've met before...

-> thebetternorris: don't talk about my twin young miko like that 😡

arcangle: loved partying with you norris!!

landonorris: you’re finally partying at home and not in the burger land😒

-> thebetternorris: BURGER LAND???

-> landonorris: the united states or whatever 🙄

username56: two posts in one day omg???

username57: y/n and young miko do look so much alike omg 🤨

olliebearman: it was lovely meeting you y/n

-> thebetternorris: hi ollie, it was great meeting you too 😆 congrats on your haas contract 🤫🤫

-> olliebearman: thank you! 😊

username58: y/n and ollie interacting???

username59: is no one gonna mention that y/n and ollie were in the same place??

username60: can y/n drink? i thought she was too young..

-> username61: she is too young. she’s only seventeen, but even then why are you assuming she’s drinking 😟?

username62: a sneak peak of the photo's y/n has in her camera

view all 3,939 comments

july 7, 2024

— instagram stories !

thebetternorris and olliebearman added to stories

replies to thebetternorris story

landonorris replied to your story: WHO IS THIS??? TAKE THAT SMILEY FACE OFF AND COME BACK HOME.

lewishamilton replied to your story: is this what you call soft launching?

oscarpiastri replied to your story: please answer lando’s messages. he’s been pacing back and forth for the past ten minutes.

username63 replied to your story: Y/N IS THAT A GUY???

username64 replied to your story: YOU’RE SOFT LAUNCHING??

pepemartiofficial replied to your story: quén es?

username65 replied to your story: you’re such an artist 😻

replies to olliebearman story:

charles_leclerc replied to your story: son, are you dating a girl?

kimi.antonelli replied to your story: mate. you didn’t tell me you were going to the beach today? you didn’t even invite me 😞

arthur_leclerc replied to your story: 🤨

username66 replied to your story: IS THAT A GIRLL? OLLIEEE

username67 replied to your story: since when did you take such aesthetic photos?

username68 replied to your story: soft lauching omg??

view more messages

july 8, 2024

— instagram !

liked by thebetternorris, charles_leclerc, and 392,921 others

olliebearman got to drive an f1 car in silverstone 👍🏼

username69: i’m sobbing, he’s so cute 😭😭

charles_leclerc: so proud, congrats ollie 👍🏼

-> olliebearman: thank you dad! 👍🏼

-> username70: i can see where ollie got his thumbs up from. LMAO

thebetternorris: a thumbs up is such a dad move

-> olliebeaman: compliment or?

-> thebetternorris: compliment ofc ☺️

-> olliebearman: oh okay then, thank you y/n :)

username71: ollie has rizz???

username72: going from a ferrari reserve driver to a haas f1 driver is such a downgrade 😬

-> thebetternorris: you’re saying that as if you can even drive a formula one car ever 🤣

-> username73: HELLO??? y/n defending ollie 🫣🫣

username74: HIS EYES ARE SO CUTE 😔😔

username75: a semi F1 car

-> thebetternorris: more than you’ll ever achieve. bullying a eighteen year old at 26 years old is embarrassing.

-> username76: Y/N DEFENDING OLLIE 😍😍

username77: i can't wait to see ollie every race week

username78: y/n defending ollie is so cute

view all 500 comments

COMMENTS ON THIS POST HAVE BEEN LIMITED.

july 9th, 2024

liked by landonorris, olliebearman, lilyzneimer, and 826,281 others

y/n.jpg surprise, new account 🤭 very first post is a photo dump, from beach day 🌊☀️ 07/08/24

landonorris: copycat 😒😒 be original for once. same username and everything

-> y/n.jpg: 🙄🙄

landonorris: WAIT A MINUTE. WHAT IS THAT THIRD PHOTO. Y/N NORRIS. WHO IS THAT???

-> y/n.jpg: 😜

-> landonorris: Y/N NORRIS. WHERE ARE YOU.

username80: y/n’s first post on her jpg account is a soft launch. this has got to be a halluaction.

username81: if someone told me that y/n would make a jpg account and soft launch a guy. i would never believe you.

username82: the second picture is so cute 😭

username83: the difference in the two comments lando commented. LMFAOO

-> username84: i’m guessing he commented “copycat” before seeing the photos and then commented the second one 🤣🤣

username85: two of the norris siblings have a jpg account that’s so cute

username86: ollie in the likes 🤨

lilyzneimer: you're so pretty

-> thebetternorris: thank u lily, love u

username87: both ollie and y/n posted about being at the beach the night after they met..

-> username88: nah you guys are reaching..

oscarpiastri: y/n please. don't do this rn 😭

-> thebetternorris: 🤫🤫

username89: you guys are assuming that y/n is with everyone leave her alone 😭😭

olliebearman: should i make a jpg account too?

-> thebetternorris: yes you should!! i can help u make it if you would like 🤫

-> olliebearman: ah yes that would be helpful 😁

username90: y’all won’t even let y/n be friends with the opposite gender before immediately shipping them together

username91: everyone saying that we're reaching and what not. but what about the comment between y/n and ollie… 🤨🤨

username92: the third photo looks a little similar to the one ollie posted on his story; the same day. 🫣

username93: there’s definitely gonna be something happening between the ollie and y/n because why else would she defend him in his own comments

view all 11,191 comments

july 11th, 2024

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 947,829 others

y/n.jpg digital camera photos from silverstone 💫 lando taking a little nap in the fourth photo 😴 btw congrats on your win lewis 😉. 👤: @.landonorris, @.oscarpiastri, @.roscoelovescoco, @ciscawuaman, @adam_norris_pure_electric, @lewishamilton

username93: i love y/n for giving us unseen photos

username94: oscar doing a shoey 🤔

-> thebetternorris: ik right disgusting 🤢

-> oscarpiastri: @thebetternorris hey. i didn’t like it anymore that you did.

-> username94: OSCAR AND Y/N REPLYING TO MY COMMENT. THIS ISN’T REAL.

roscoelovescoco: 🤍🤍

-> thebetternorris: ROSCOEE

username95: oh to be photographed on y/n’s camera and posted on her account 😞

-> thebetternorris: i just dm’ed you!!

-> username96: @.username95 well tell us, what did she dm you omg???

-> username95: @.username96 she gave me tickets to the next gp 😭😭😭 i’m distraught rn 🥹🥹

-> username97: @.username95 HELLO??? FREE TICKETS???

lewishamilton: thank u for the congrats y/n 🩵

-> thebetternorris: of courseee 😉

username98: these photos are so cute omg 💔

thebetternorris: do you guys see how @.landonorris replaces me with another kid 💔 guess i’m not his favorite nor youngest sibling anymore 😞

-> landonorris: y/n. i don’t think mom or dad could or want to adopt another kid especially after dealing with you.

-> thebetternorris: MOMMM 😭😭😭 @ciscawuaman

-> cisacawuaman: @.landonorris please. you may be right but don’t comment this on the internet. @thebetternorris we love you y/n, i would adopt you all over again and as many times i could 😘

username99: y/n is literally living every formula one fan’s dream 😖

-> username98: considering she is literally lando’s sister she’s been living the life since day one 😭

username100: THE FIRST PHOTO HELLO??? 😍

francisca.cgomes: hii y/n! it was lovely meeting you. are you going to the next gp? i would love to hang out with you ☺️

-> y/n.jpg: hi kika 😁, yes i will be!! i loved meeting you, you’re the sweetest, i would love to hang out with you too ☺️

username101: y/n is genuinely so pretty omg 🫣

landonorris: don’t think this is distracting me from the post you made previously..

-> thebetternorris: 🤫🤫

username102: i was at the grand prix and seeing y/n on the fan stage was so surreal.

username103: i met y/n at the grand prix and she got my hat signed by both oscar and lando, she’s so sweet 😭😭😭

-> username104: stop me too. she got all of my mclaren stuff signed by them 🥹🥹

username105: i met y/n and when i asked her to sign my shirt she was so shocked it was so precious 😞

view all 10,829 comments

july 12, 2024

comment to be tagged in the next part. (pls mention if you wanna be added to my general taglist or just this series taglist)

taglist: @yawn-zi @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @d3kstar @inejghafawifesblog @azeal-peal @hadids-world @sumlovesjude @poppyflower-22 @formulaonebuff @bloodyymaryyy @kodzuvk @matchalyne @ynnasaint @morsstuff @2pagenumb @velentine @keii134 @deepeststarlightmoon @wobblymug @xoscar03 @raizelchrysanderoctavius (if you are tagged here, i will mostly likely tag you again in the third part)

READ PLEASE/URGENT: hello!! thank you so much for the support on this story. just wanted to share some links about the crisis/situation in venezuela. an undeniable cause of election fraud is happening in venezuela, spread awareness. how to help refugees near you. explanation of the situation. donate/help families forced to flee. the reason i’m sharing this is because the face claim for this story is from venezuela (will not have a huge effect on the story), but furthermore because the situation in venezuela is not being publicized enough. even just sharing these links will do a lot. sadly, i could not find any more links other than those three.

[itaipava]

— f1 boys as your boyfriends.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS:

he’s the fun and cheerful kind of boyfriend. the kind that spams you with his silly internet discoveries, like an interesting article or a tiktok video or random vlogs. the kind of boyfriend who calls you ‘beautiful’ all the time, even when you’re not looking or feeling good. the kind of boyfriend who gets over fights easily - the kind of boyfriend who makes it hard to be mad at him because he’s so genuine and generous. the kind of boyfriend who praises you constantly and has a genuine admiration for you. the kind of boyfriend who makes you feel heard and understood. the kind of who suddenly drags you into a store to buy cheap plastic ‘promise rings’ and then asks you as a joke; when the two of you stop having a good laugh, he says with a soft, content smile, “you know... i’m really going to do this one day.”

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO:

is the kind of boyfriend that lifts your mood and makes you feel lighter just being around him. he’s very open with his physical affections and words - probably the one who says ‘i love you’ first and he does it at the most random moment and with the purest beam of light on his face that makes your heart melt.  the kind of boyfriend who shows you off to friends;  you often hear “daniel don’t shut up about you, please help me” or “he’s so in love with you, it’s disgusting”. the type who calls you out of the blue and drags you off on unplanned dates - he’s sometimes the reason you end up neglecting your work, but he makes it up by helping you get through later.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ:

is the kind of boyfriend who still looks at you with the same passionate gaze, no matter how long you’ve been together. the kind of boyfriend who picks you up wherever you are because he doesn’t want you to be alone, especially late at night. he is more of a listener in the relationship, but he also speaks his mind and values honesty. the kind of boyfriend who suddenly blurts out ‘you’re so beautiful’ while watching you laugh with your friends; even when others stop and turn to him, it doesn’t bother him, because it’s just the truth. the kind of boyfriend who kisses you a lot on the forehead and temple. the type of boyfriend who makes you feel safe, welcomed and protected just by being around him.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC:

he’s the kind of boyfriend who pays attention at you even when you’re not looking at him, and unconsciously knows all the little habits you have. the kind of boyfriend who not only knows your little quirks on the surface but also understands you so deeply that you sometimes think he can read your mind. the kind of boyfriend who likes to sit beside you in silence while you do your own thing. the kind of boyfriend who tells you to go to bed early but also calls you and you end up staying up late because the conversation flows so naturally when you talk to him. the kind of boyfriend who loves watching you sleep while gently stroking your cheek with his thumb; your peaceful and lovely sleeping face makes him feel calm, as if he is right where he should be.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON:

he’s the very cuddly, relaxed and comfortable type of boyfriend to be with. he sends sweet little messages during the day to see how you are doing. he is also very tolerant and open-minded. the type who always seems to know what you’re feeling - he’s good at noticing small changes in your voice, expressions, habits or mannerisms, so “i’m fine” lies don’t really work with him. he’s so affectionate, always making sure you’re healthy and eating well. the kind that thinks a lot about the future together. the kind who marathons your favorite movies with you. the kind that brings you chocolate, snacks you like and other necessities when you have your period - comforts you and makes you smile when you have mood swings. the type of boyfriend who looks at you with so much love and affection that makes your friends fall in love with your relationship. the type of boyfriend who supports you in everything, but also gives you advice and helps you overcome your problems and difficulties. the type of boyfriend who makes his love for you obvious in everything he does for you.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

the “best friend” type of boyfriend. he can be a little shy and awkward about showing his affection, especially at first, but there’s also this feeling of comfort around him. the kind of boyfriend who treats you like he’s known you forever, but still blushes and gets nervous whenever you praise him or kiss him randomly. more like a listener, but he’s so considerate when he talks; the kind that asks questions you never thought of or that no one asked before. the kind who have a verbal habit of saying “we” instead of “i” because subconsciously include you in most of his future plans - no matter how big or small. the kind that gives you so many kisses on the forehead. and whenever he hugs you, you can feel all his love for you, you can feel at home.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN:

he’s the kind of boyfriend who likes to take you everywhere he goes: his favorite park, favorite restaurant, favorite cafe, favorite record store. the kind that remembers almost everything you like and don’t like, which makes him amazing when it comes to buying gifts, among other things. the kind of boyfriend who remembers your hours or when you’re free and calls you at those times because he wants to hear your voice. if you don’t, he likes to leave voice messages. honestly very sincere. he’s the kind of boyfriend who lets you use him as his personal pillow all the time; no matter where you are, if he sees you dozing, he won’t think twice before letting your head rest on his lap or shoulder. the kind of boyfriend who lovingly calls you an ‘idiot’, but you know, his idiot.

[inchidentally]

Sorry new landoscar fan here, I kept seeing the notion that Oscar was Lando’s fan for years, but I can’t seem to find any info about that?

ofc babe ! I store a lot of it in this tag but I think a little roundup post is probably due - heads up this is not in chrono order bc a lot of it is referenced from recent content:

2015 and Oscar making the big move to the UK to join Ricky Flynn and his fanboying of Lando begins

tiktok compilation of Oscar revealing his chronic Lando content consumption well before they were teammates

compilation from twitter of Oscar's decided bias toward not only liking Lando content but also searching his tag and finding posts that sometimes had barely a few likes (and this was just going back to 2017)

Oscar knowing when Lando's maiden podium was (and Lando calling him a nerd)

the 2020 hornet tweets because Oscar watched the stream of Lando battling 2 hornets in his house x x

Alpine Oscar 'interviewing' Lando and Alex on Sky in 2022 and the quote from Lando that he hasn't raced Oscar "yet" and Oscar well basically staring at Lando

2021 Oscar citing Lando's social media inspiring him to use humor as a way to open up to the public more (added landoscar angst here bc the hate and abuse he received after alpinegate seriously made him clam up and between that and him being fairly in awe of Lando, meant that Lando himself didn't rly get to know Oscar's humor until fairly late 2023 - like, no one should underestimate how Oscar entered F1 properly and got to know one of his favorite drivers all while being universally despised and painted as a villain/cold/evil - how much could have been different if one team had simply kept their mouths shut until verifying that tweet first esp when Oscar was already a shared reserve driver w McLaren anyway !!!!)

the beloved Oscar and Max F at Renault Academy lore

this post I made is a mess but the anecdotes he can only know from Lando's or Max's streams streams or Quadrant videos: Lando making stickers and selling them at school; Lando's snoring lore could be because of the thin shared walls but also Max has def brought it up before; he definitely already knew the story of Lando falling from a window trying to break into his own house; and the fact that we got Max reacting to Oscar referencing Max's outrage at Lando forgetting his birthday

it's a bit too scattered to compile but trust and believe Oscar has been a carlando girlie from day one - def the bromance but idk I feel like he's read a fic or twenty

watching Lando's career when asked about his idols coming up

and backing that up, him in 2019 saying the same thing

EDIT: his mum Nicole saying he would choose Lando as his ideal teammate going into F1 because the expectations of him wouldn't be too high since everyone knows how good Lando is

pulling out the it's Friday theeeen Lando meme

being so addicted to Lando content by 2020 that he actually fanboyed about the LN4 admin interacting w him

EDIT: he then followed it up by creating a sort of ship name for himself and Lando ???

EDIT: Lando's kart and the number 481 !!

EDIT: how could I forget Oscar submitting this old photo of Lando to a meme page in 2023 but he literally had that photo somewhere saved

EDIT: how could I forget the hornets saga ??

and ofc K's beloved Oscar primer has a lot of context about all of this more fleshed out!

I think that's everything but if anyone notices I've forgotten anything lmk !!